I swallow hard. “I’m fine,” I say automatically.
“You don’t have to do this,” she whispers.
Roman takes his place beside the officiant. If I asked Vivian to, she’d get me out of here. I know she would. But then what?
How unfair would it be to leave Roman now? All the media outlets, every news station, would report how the billionaire groom was left at the altar. He doesn’t deserve that. From the moment we met in that bookstore, he’s done nothing but treat me with respect. I might not love him, but I definitely don’t want to hurt him.
“I’m fine,” I say through my teeth. “Just nervous.”
That seems to appease her. She nods and squares up to face the aisle.
I force my regrets and apprehension down, down, down until I can hardly hear the whisper of warning my gut is sending me. A string quartet nestled under a canopy of feathery greens begins to play a classic piece, Handel if I remember correctly from my meeting with the coordinator. Vivian strikes a plastic smile and walks to her spot, stepping up onto the dais across from Roman. The music changes, and it’s my turn.
Time seems to slow. Step. Step. Step. One foot in front of the other, I walk myself down the aisle. Until finally I reach my place facing Roman. Vivian fluffs my train, then takes the bouquet from my trembling hands.
The officiant starts talking about love and family, lives joined. My mind wanders. I am really doing this.What would Marion say if she were still alive? Silently I say a prayer.God, if you’re listening and I’m not supposed to do this, if I’m not meant to be with Roman, stop this wedding from happening. Send an earthquake or a storm. Anything. Send me a sign.
I pray it over and over again, my joints starting to ache from the anxiety welling within me.
I can’t look directly at Roman, not when I’m thinking these thoughts. I pick a floral arrangement over his shoulder to focus on. Looking at him without looking at him. That’s when I see something move along the side entrance to the garden, the aisle Roman took to the altar. I’m drawn to it, happy for the distraction. There’s an irregularity in the pattern of the flowers. An animal? I can’t make it out. I draw a deep breath through my nose. Whose cologne is that? It smells like salt air, cucumber, and mint. Soothing and clean. The thing shifts again. There’s nothing there, but there is. I can’t explain it. And I can’t tear my eyes away from it. I stare at the non-thing. Really stare.
And itblinks. It blinks!
Jesus fucking Christ, there is an alien predator at the end of the aisle, and its eyes are trained on me!
Chapter Five
CONNOR
Looking back, I should have had a contingency plan, but I’ve never been much of a wait-and-see kind of guy. I’m a man of action. Coming here on my own to read Stefan’s mind made sense. I never suspected a scenario where the man wouldn’t attend his own son’s wedding. He’s conspicuously absent. Something is definitely off, and I don’t like it.
Once I’ve registered that my target is missing, I turn around to leave. It’s the obvious next step. Every moment on this property increases my risk of being detected and captured by the Order. The four will want to know about Stefan’s absence. We all need to go back to the drawing board and come up with a new plan.
Only, the second I notice the woman at the altar, I can’t move. Oh hell do I notice her. My dragon slams into the wall of my skin like a tiger leaping for its prey. I burn,my mouth goes dry, and my wings twitch with the desire to take her. Everything has changed. My world, my priorities, everything that I am and will ever be is different now.
Because ofher.
The woman standing on the dais is the most perfect specimen of a female I’ve ever laid eyes on. And she’s staring straight at me. Even wrapped in all that French lace with her gorgeous auburn hair bound in a bun that looks painfully tight, I see something wild in her amber eyes, something flinty, as if the right word could spark a fire in her that would send this entire event up in flames. My dragon twists and chuffs, a vivid image of the dress burning off her filling my mind. Nothing but creamy flesh and palpable tension would be left between us.
This is Roman’s fiancée?
No. No. No. I refuse to believe it. It’s a travesty. Shecan’tbe with him. What must he have on her to force her to dress in this costume and jump through gold hoops for these people? I close my eyes and get control of myself. I’m not here to be distracted by a woman, especially not one who’s chosen to marry my nemesis. For Creator’s sake, I have no business even looking in her direction.
My dragon disagrees. His desire to claim her is a drum whose beat grows louder in my ears.Thump. Thump. Thump. I fist my hands. Breathe deep. Close my eyes so I can’t see her. Count to ten. I take a step back, then another. I can do this.
And then I hear her in my head.I’m not trying to hear her. I haven’t made any effort to enter her mind. But I feelher inside me and I realize she’s projecting a mental plea, a panicked plea, so intensely she might as well be screaming it.If you’re out there and I’m not supposed to do this, if I’m not meant to be with Roman, stop this wedding from happening. Send an earthquake or a storm. Anything! Send me a sign.
She’s praying to her god, not to me, but she wouldn’t be thinking those words if she didn’t want the earthquake, if she didn’t want to stop this wedding from happening. She’s having second thoughts. And this, this is why I can’t leave. The beast within me has a carnal, primal need to answer her call, to save her from this travesty of a ceremony.
She’s begging for a storm. I am the storm.
Fiona. I breathe deep as I mentally repeat her name. I know it from Remus’s research. Fiona Morrow. Fiona. My dragon sings her name inside my head.
For all intents and purposes, I’m invisible, camouflaged in the shadowy recesses of the garden, but her amber eyes look directly at me. I swear she can see me.
The Saint’s Order only initiates men. There are women who know about the Order—wives, girlfriends—but they don’t wear the rings. The rings possess the magic necessary to detect cloaked dragons, but even with one, the order members have to be actively using the rings to see us. Fiona has no ring and shouldn’t be able to see me, but her eyes widen slightly and there’s recognition in them. She sees me. Sheseesme. The deepest part of my soul. And I see her.
Mine, my dragon growls.Claim her. Claim her.
