The words pass in a blur. A crown is held above our heads. Rings exchanged. Promises spoken not in love, but in obligation.
Still… my voice shakes.
When it’s done, when the vow is sealed, and the silence stretches, he turns to me fully.
There’s no smile, no softness.
Just a single, quiet declaration that slices the air in two:
“Mine.”
My breath shatters.
And when his lips press against mine, the world tilts.
Vitali
Her lips are softer than I expected.
I didn’t think kissing her at the altar would mean anything more than what it was intended for. A symbol of us joining before a God I don’t believe in, and a family who need this as proof that any heirs that follow will be legitimate.
Only something primitive and vicious in me took over the moment she breathed against my mouth and I whispered she is mine. And as soon as I lower my mouth to hers, carefully and deliberately, every intention I had for control fractures.
The kiss is brief. Civilized. Just enough for tradition. But I feel every individual part of it like it’s a recipe for something I didn’t know I liked or wanted.
Heat. Hunger. Possession igniting like a fuse.
When I pull back, she’s still trembling, but she doesn’t look away. Her eyes are wide, uncertain, shining with something that feels dangerously close to trust.
This is the first time I’ve touched her. The first time my skin has met hers. And already I’m ruined.
We turn, facing the mostly empty chapel. No applause. No celebration. Just the weight of expectation heavy in the incense-thick air. Her hand is still in mine when Yuri approaches. He’s the only other person here besides Sophia and the priest, the only witness who matters.
Yuri grips my shoulder. “Swift,” he says under his breath, approval threading his tone. “Calculated. Exactly what this family needs.”
I give a clipped nod. He has no idea how uncalculated this is anymore.
His gaze shifts to Charlotte, assessing but not unkind. “Welcome to the family,” he tells her.
She swallows like she’s not sure if that’s a blessing or a sentence.
Sophia pulls Charlotte into a friendly hug and presses a warm kiss to her cheek, whispers something that makes Charlotte’s shoulders loosen just a touch. I file that away. Sophia softens the edges of this world in ways no one else can. My wife may need that.
My wife.
The words strike like a blow to the very foundation of who I am. She stands so close her perfume curls into my lungs, something faint and floral that wraps around the iron edges I’ve spent my life sharpening.
I escort her out into the cold. Snow falls in silent drifts, catching in her hair like stardust. She looks otherworldly. Fragile. Breakable.
I should stay away from fragile things.
I open the car door for her and she slides inside, satin whispering. Her dress looks like it was spun for a queen. On her, it’s blinding. The way it hugs her curves is devastating and enlightening all at once. It’s confusing and I don’t like feeling like I haven’t got a tight grip on my control.
Once I’m seated beside her, the door closes, sealing us into warmth and leather-scented air. She folds her hands tightly in her lap, knuckles white.
“You did well,” I say quietly.
She lets out a breath that is almost a laugh. “I didn’t faint. That’s something.”
