“I’m sure, but what about you three?”
“Well, Sebastian, but he’s dealing with something urgent in Belarus,” Zane said.
“We can wait until he gets back,” I offered.
“No telling how long he’ll be. But not to worry! Ko’s all set up to record the whole glorious event so he can watch itad nauseum.”
“Ad nauseum?” I was starting to fall back to sleep, and my mind wasn’t up to much thinking at the moment.
“Yeah, he can be sick with jealousy that, one, we found our beloved before him and, two, our wedding was utterly spectacular.”
“Just don’t turn it into an utter spectacle,” Casimir muttered.
“Never.” Zane snuggled closer.
“Better rest while you can, beloved,” Koa chuckled.
A sleepy smile tugged at my lips as I relaxed, happy and warm, and drifted off to the melody of Casimir’s mumbled complaints about “property rights” and “fair distribution,” the soft rise and fall of Koa’s breathing, and the occasional snore from Zane.
26. In Wild Disarray
Jack Webster
I had officiated over a hundred weddings in my time. Some were beautiful, some were awkward, and some were downright bizarre. Butthisone? Oh, this one was already shaping up to be something I’d tell my grandkids about.
Assuming I lived that long.
I stepped into the music room of Evermere, a mansion that looked more like something plucked from a Martha Stewart magazine. Much fancier than any place I had performed a marriage before. With vaulted ceilings, intricate gold crown molding, and a grand piano off to the side, it felt less like a manor house and more like a palace.
Which, I supposed, made sense. King Lucian had personally asked me to oversee this union, a fact that still made mea touchuneasy. There were rumors about the vampire king’s sons, the trio ofdhampir princes who worked as monster hunters and enforcers of supernatural law.
And now they were getting married.
To the same woman.
The girl must have nerves of steel, I thought, glancing toward the entryway where she was meant to enter.Or she’s been drugged.
I was curious to meet her, truth be told, but then I saw the grooms and…
Oh. My. God.
The first one I spotted was the tallest. He had cognac brown eyes, an aura of mischief, and an outrageous outfit.
A ruffled poet’s shirt, dramatic as sin, tucked into black trousers beneath a fitted brocade velvet jacket that looked like it had been pulled straight from the closet of a Victorian stage actor. His short, untamable red hair stood in wild disarray, as though he’d rolled straight out of bed, thrown on the most outrageous thing he owned, and decided,Yes. This is exactly the vibe I want to bring to my wedding today.
I could not for the life of me figure out why no one else seemed surprised by this choice of attire. Even the glowering man with a face like a Norse war god only turned his head slightly and muttered, “Really, Zane?” in a tone that suggested this was both entirely expected and still somehow exasperating.
“I’m making an effort, brother. This is metrying.” The redhead—Zane, I now knew—shrugged and flashed a grin far too smug for a groom about to enter a legally binding marriage. “Zane Cimmerian,” he introduced himself, even bowing as he shook my hand.
“Jack Webster, at your service, Prince Zane.” I pulled my hand out of his as soon as civilly possible.
Next to him stood a veritable mountain of muscle and tension. Long black hair pulled away from his face by a blue hairband, a jawline sharp enough to cut glass, and skin the golden tone of someone with native heritage. He was adjusting the cuffs of his black dress shirt, which, in contrast to Zane’s flamboyant attire, was buttoned up to his throat like a man preparing for a funeral.
“Koa,” Zane said, gesturing lazily. “The animalistic one.”
“And you’re the irritating one.” Koa shot him a glare that promised violence.
“True.” Zane beamed, and Koa merely grunted. “Don’t mind him. He’s vibrating with nerves right now.”
