“I will be faithful to the Sokolov Bratva,” I say. “And I will make you proud, like I was proud of you...” then whisper, “when you saved me from the river, and from those men.”
His breath catches. For the first time, he looks almost uncomfortable or impressed with me.
A subtle shift in the crowd follows, heads tilting, eyes sharpening, something like approval stirring through them. I suppose they weren’t expecting any words from his foreign bride.
The officiant continues. My fingers tremble in Gustav’s. The room swims slightly. I feel disassociated, floating between terror and hope.
Then the question comes.
“Do you take this man as your husband?”
I inhale sharply. “I do.”
“And do you take this woman as your wife?”
Gustav does not hesitate. “I do.”
It echoes through me.
The officiant nods. “You may kiss the bride.”
I freeze. I never thought I would want this moment with him. Yet now, my heartbeat is a wild drum. I rise onto my tiptoes without thinking, reaching toward him.
He leans down.
The kiss is soft... yet shocking. His lips are warm and soft. His hands cup my jaw, thumb grazing my cheek with surprising tenderness. But it changes, sharp and sudden. I feel him holding back. I feel the restraint shaking inside him. The tension in his hand tells me he wants to pull me closer.
Our lips part for a breathless second. His chest rises with a quiet, ragged inhale. He kisses me again, deeper, but still careful.My knees feel weak. The moment is sensual and terrifying in equal measure.
When our lips separate, he doesn’t look at me right away. He lowers his head slightly, gaze on the floor, jaw tight.
For a split second, I catch him raising his hand toward his temple again. He stops himself. His fingers tremble once. Then he steadies.
The officiant announces something in Russian.
The ceremony is over.
Applause rises around us. Now, everyone bows their heads to me as we turn, their gestures stiff with respect, a recognition that rattles me more than the blood ritual did. I am different somehow.
Gustav steps back.
But the distance between us chills me more than the entire castle ever has.
Chapter 12
Gustav
The reception is loud. Music, laughter, glasses clinking. My men mingle in dark suits, their wives glittering in jewels. It is meant to be a celebration. A unification. A moment of victory.
I feel none of it.
My mind is not in this room. It’s trapped in the kiss that is still burning against my mouth. It shouldn’t stick to me like this. It shouldn’t have mattered.
But it did.
Voices press into my skull, hissing and relentless.
Weak. She makes you weak. She blinds you. She will destroy our empire.
