My chest tightened as I backed away. “I can’t—I can’t do this.”
He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to steady me. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice softer now, almost gentle. “You’re stronger than this. I know you are.”
I shook my head, fighting back tears. Despite the chaos in my mind, his touch grounded me.
“Let’s begin,” the officiant said.
16
RAFFAELE
The freezing cold of the chamber seeped into my skin. The violet flames cast jagged shadows across the ancient stone, the scent of incense and blood filling the air. The room buzzed with oppressive power. It should have grounded me, pulled me back into the focus I’d honed over years of dealing with rituals and nonsense like this. But tonight? Tonight, I was fucking unraveling.
I stripped off without a second thought and tossed my clothes onto a nearby stone bench. My eyes flicked to Vivian. She stood a few feet away, nervously chewing her lip, fear radiating off her. Guilt writhed in my stomach like a parasite, unwelcome and unrelenting. I needed to focus on the goal. I needed to remember why I was doing this. If the marriage wasn’t made official, my deal with Altair would be null and void.
Just as I thought I would have to undress Vivian myself, one trembling hand reached for the hem of her T-shirt, and she pulled it over her head with a jerky motion. I clenched my jaw as she shimmied out of her jeans. My gaze traced her every movement as she reached behind her back to unsnap her bra, her fingers fumbling slightly. It slipped off her arms, leaving herchest bare, and she hesitated only briefly before sliding her lace panties down and stepping out of them.
She was completely bare now, and I was a fucking fool for thinking I could handle this.
Even in the freezing chamber, my body betrayed me. My erection jutted into the cold air, painful and throbbing, and no amount of self-control could stop my gaze from lingering on her.
My wife.
She stood with her fists clenched, her beautiful mouth set in a hard, defiant line. When her eyes finally lifted, they locked onto mine, something sharp passing between us.
Then her gaze dropped, lingering on my erection.
Her lips parted slightly, and a soft gasp escaped her. The sight of her nipples hardening in the cold—or was it from something else?—only made it worse. My body screamed at me to close the distance, to touch her, to claim her. The thought was dangerous, intoxicating, and it would have consumed me if the officiant hadn’t spoken.
“It is time to begin the binding ritual,” he said.
I tore my gaze from Vivian and forced my hands to my sides. She didn’t move, and she squeezed her eyes shut as if she were willing herself to disappear.
The officiant stepped forward, holding two bowls filled with a thick, shimmering oil that glowed faintly in the dim light. “Both participants must be fully cleansed by the other. The oil will enhance your magical auras, allowing the binding to take hold.”
Cleansed. By each other. With oil.
Fuck me.
He handed a bowl to Vivian first, and she took it with trembling hands, her wide eyes flicking to me, then back to the shimmering liquid. “You will go first,” he instructed her.
She took a stiff, cautious step toward me. The heady mix of fear and defiance that radiated off her sparked a primal instinctin me. She dipped her trembling fingers into the glistening, golden liquid. Her hand hovered over my chest for a moment before she pressed her palm flat against my skin. The oil was cold, a stark contrast to the heat that flared beneath my flesh from her touch. She moved mechanically, her hand gliding over my shoulders and down my arms with an efficiency that told me exactly how uncomfortable she was.
For me, every touch ignited a new kind of torment. The press of her fingers, the slickness of the oil, the faint tremble in her hands—it all burned through my control like wildfire. My skin seemed to thrum under her palm, as if she were leaving more than just oil behind.
She froze when she reached my lower abdomen, her hand hovering above my erection. Her hesitation sent a fresh surge of heat through me, my pulse pounding in anticipation of her next move. I raised an eyebrow, tilting my head slightly as I forced my voice to remain even.
“You heard the man,” I said, my tone laced with a challenge. “The oil goeseverywhere.”
She ground her teeth together, the flicker of defiance in her eyes stoking the flames already consuming me. I could see her pride battling with her obedience, the internal war playing out in the tension of her shoulders, the tight set of her mouth. But she didn’t argue. Instead, she dipped her hand back into the oil, her fingers emerging slick and glistening.
And then she touched me.
Her hand wrapped around me, her grip light and testing. The heat of her skin against mine, combined with the glide of the oil, sent a jolt of pleasure racing through me. It was so intense I had to grit my teeth to keep from groaning. My entire body tensed, my fists curling at my sides as I fought the overwhelming urge to give in to the sensation.
Her touch grew firmer as she worked the oil over my length, her movements quick but thorough, as if she were determined to finish this as fast as possible. I closed my eyes, clamping down on the wave of arousal. The heat of her hand, the smooth glide of her fingers, was fucking unbearable. If she kept going for even a second longer, I’d lose every shred of control and come all over her hand like a damn teenager.
Each breath I took was a fight to keep my composure. My shadows stirred restlessly, responding to the heat between us, but I forced them back. This wasn’t the time or the place for anything more than what the ritual demanded. But fuck, it was hard. Harder than it had any right to be.
