“Christ alive,” I whispered under my breath. “What is happening?”
“Cough up the rings, Brumous, or no more eggs at breakfast.” Koa’s voice turned into a storm approaching.
The wolf pup froze. Stared at Koa for ten seconds. Horked up four rings.
“God have mercy!” I exclaimed, hand flying to my mouth. “I— You— What—”
“Got ’em!” Zane emerged from beneath the piano, saliva-slick bands laid out on one palm. “Don’t worry, officiant-man. We’ll just rinse ’em off in some vodka. It’s all good.”
Casimir, who I now suspected was the only sane one here, muttered, “You’re disgusting.”
“I’mresourceful.” Zane winked, then turned toward the piano. “I’m also the musician, so if you’ll excuse me?”
And then, I kid you not, he settled himself behind the grand piano and began to play Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March.” Perfectly. Like concert-level skill. His hands moved with such grace and precision that, for a moment, I almost forgot I was about to marry a young woman to three terrifying half-vampires using rings that their oversized wolf had just vomited up.
“Lady Serafina!” a voice rang out, and we all turned to the door where a staff member bowed at the waist.
And thenshewalked in.
I had seen many brides in my day, but none quite like her.
She was delicate like a bird that might break if held too tightly in her lilac dress. Not a wedding gown, but something simple and sweet that could easily be worn again. Golden hair fell in natural spirals over her shoulders, gray eyes bright with something soft and fragile, but quietly fierce.
She also had a fading bruise at her temple, a healing split lip, and a red welt on her jaw, and I would have been tempted to suspect one of her soon-to-be husbands if it wasn’t for the look she gave all three of her men.
It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t dread. It wasn’t even nervousness.
It was pure, unshakable devotion.
And the most terrifying part?
They looked at her the same way.
Three dhampirs—predator-eyed, battle-worn, cold-blooded hunters—softened the moment she entered the room. Koa’s entire face lit up like the sun, Casimir’s wrought-iron expression eased by a fraction, and Zane transitioned into a flawless rendition of Pachelbel’s “Canon in D.” It was hauntingly beautiful, and for a brief moment, I thought perhaps the ceremonywouldbe normal after all.
Then the wolf tried to eat her bouquet.
“Brumous!” Casimir snapped, yanking the creature back by the scruff of its neck. “Quit it.”
The wolf made a sound like a disgruntled foghorn and spat out flowers. Zane didn’t miss a note. Casimir’s face could have been carved from stone. The bride merely giggled.
She tamed them, I realized with dawning horror, but wisely decided not to comment.
“Proceed, Mr. Webster,” Casimir said coldly.
“Uh.” I licked my lips. “Right. Yes. Um. We are gathered here today—”
#
When we reached the vows, the trio of grooms produced a twenty-sided die.
“I beg your pardon?” I murmured.
“We agreed to roll for it.” Zane balanced the die on his knuckles. “Whoever gets the highest number gets to be the legal husband. You know, for tax purposes.”
I turned slowly to Seri. Surely,surely, she would object to this absurdity.
But no. She looked delighted.
