I can feel my jaw clenching as anger bubbles up inside me. I don’t want to hold a woman’s hand, but I don’t have a choice. I need to keep up appearances.
The bride, on the other hand, lifts her hands without hesitation, waiting for me to take them. When the high priest clears his throat, I realize I haven’t moved yet.
Taking a deep breath to quell my rising anger, I take her hands, wrapping them in my large palms.
“Start with your bride’s name, Your Majesty, and say your vows loudly for all to hear,” he reminds me.
“Se…rena,” I begin, my voice flat. A part of me hesitates to say her name. I’m lucky I even remembered it.
“I offer you a life of contentment, peace, happiness, bounty, and wealth. I offer you protection and safety.”
In the back of my mind, I know there’s a double meaning to my words. Once she’s back in her world, she’ll have all these things.
I want to stop there, but the high priest clears his throat again and murmurs, “Your vow of love, Your Majesty. Let your people hear it. Give them inspiration.”
I stare at my bride through the holes in the lace covering, hoping she can sense my displeasure.
She must be smart enough to know that the words about to come out of my mouth mean nothing.
Holding her hands, I start again, my voice louder this time.
“You are the woman who captured my heart and chased away the darkness within. For this, I vow to love and cherish you for the rest of my life. I vow to keep you by my side forever.
“My heart is yours for all eternity.”
Suddenly, applause erupts, and the cheers of the crowd fill the air.
They’re expressing their joy, and as I look around, I see many spectators crying and hugging each other.
But a selfish part of me just smirks. Their overwhelming reaction means I’ve played my part perfectly. Now it’s my dear bride’s turn to play hers. The crowd falls silent as they wait for her to speak.
“Your Majesty, King Aero of the Kingdom of Phanteon,” she begins in the sweetest, most fluid voice I’ve ever heard from a woman.
“I have no promises to make to you other than what I have—my body, my heart, and my love. Take care of me as I promise to take care of you.
“I will be your conscience, your guide. I will keep your heart safe and sound and nurture it with my calming embrace.
Again, the booming sound of cheers and applause fills the amphitheater. It goes on for over a minute until the high priest lifts his hand for silence.
He places his palm underneath our interlocked hands and guides it up level with his forehead, then starts chanting. A couple of minutes later, a white light shines from our hands.
In the form of a chain, it slithers out of our palms and wraps around our wrists, binding us together. Then a mark appears on both of our right inner wrists. It looks like a crescent moon.
I gape at the sight of it. I’ve never seen this happen at a wedding before. Judging from the surprised looks of the high priest and the audience, they haven’t either.
Silence reigns as the white light disappears.
“Hail to the Goddess!” the high priest ecstatically booms.
“What you have just witnessed is proof that our Goddess has blessed this union! We have never witnessed such a thing before. This calls for an even greater celebration!”
For the umpteenth time, the crowd cheers again, but this time it’s noisier and more headache-inducing. I struggle to keep my composure. This wasn’t supposed to happen!
Whatever this mark on my wrist means, I have a feeling it’s going to cause problems.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a young boy approaching us, holding a tray of ritual equipment—a ceremonial chalice filled with clear water and a small platinum bowl filled with red powder.
The high priest takes the chalice and hands it to me. “We must move on with the wedding ritual,” he says with mirth. “Drink your chalice and be whole with your bride.”
After everything I’ve been through, after painstakingly keeping my temper in check, I can’t have her ruining this ceremony just by suddenly being frightened!
So when I hand her the chalice, I also grab her hand and squeeze it tight.
“Be still. Everything is okay,” I whisper softly, faking a smile.
She takes this as a promise, judging from the sudden lift of her chin.
“Drink your chalice and be whole with your husband,” the high priest says. She drinks the contents and, thereafter, hands it back to the old man.
When this is done, he takes out the platinum bowl, dips his thumb inside it, and signals both of us to lean closer.
We both do—rather hesitantly, I might add—and the high priest draws a single line across our foreheads with the red powder.
“The ceremony’s over. The wedding’s done!” he bellows. “Let every realm know this union is solid and unbreakable!”
I take in the old man’s words and, for the first time, a wave of dread washes over me.
“Cheers to our alpha and luna! Cheers to King Aero and Queen Serena!” my brother’s voice rings out from somewhere near the stage.
I glance at my council and the rest of the crowd as they all echo our names. Their faces are bright, not a trace of worry or doubt in sight.
They seem genuinely happy about my marriage to this woman, but I know the moment they discover she’s human, they’ll lose their minds and declare the union null and void.
Elijah catches my eye. He gives a slight nod, a silent signal that it’s time. I know what I have to do, of course. It’s a tradition for all couples married in the kingdom.
I’m their king; they expect me to follow suit.
I’ve been mentally preparing for this for two days. I thought I was ready, but standing in front of this woman, my new wife and queen, I’m not so sure anymore.
“Kiss!” someone in the crowd calls out.
And then everyone joins in, chanting that one damning word—“Kiss! Kiss!”
I flash them a grin and wave a hand to acknowledge their demand. But inside, I want to tear out every single one of their throats.
“Do we really have to kiss?” she asks through gritted teeth, looking worried.
I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her closer. “It’s tradition. It shows that the newlyweds are truly happy with their union.”
“I’m not happy with this union,” she blurts out, still managing to smile and wave at the crowd like a true queen.
I let out a frustrated groan. “Neither am I, but we have to put on a show.”
“Shit” is the last word I hear from her as I lean down, lift her veil, and claim her mouth.
The crowd erupts into cheers again. Damn them all.
At first, I just want our lips to touch, to create the illusion of a passionate kiss. But then, to my surprise, her lips part slightly.
I catch a whiff of an intoxicating scent, one I’ve never smelled on any woman, or any creature, for that matter.
It’s the same scent I noticed when she was bathing in my pool, and damn it, it’s making my head spin.
My nose loves it. My lungs crave it. And then, without thinking, I part my lips too.
As our moist lips touch and our warm breaths mingle, a strange need fills me.
My wolf howls inside me, and before I know it, I’m kissing my pretend wife like a wild beast that’s just been set free.
