But the truth is, I can’t protect her from mine.
No matter the silence I promise to keep, the obedience I give, the deals I make, the blood that stains my hands, they won’t stop.
I can only become the villain in her story, let her believe I never loved her.
Let herhateme.
Because that hate may be the only thing that keeps her alive.
Her hand finds mine and she steps close, fingers tightening in that soft way of hers, silently telling me she’s here.
Her plump lips are painted pink. Her freckles are softened by her makeup. Her lashes look longer than normal, darkened with mascara, and they don’t need the help. They already rest gently on her cheeks when she sleeps.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to…”
I nearly jump out of my skin at the soft female voice coming from between us. The officiant is holding a book even though it’s clear she has her spiel memorized, even down to the timing of pauses, waiting for chuckles or laughter or whatever feedback she normally receives from a wedding ceremony.
But there aren’t rows and rows of chairs, filled with loving family and friends.
There aren’t many voices to lend their approval to the quiet jokes and idioms.
Just two stoic witnesses—one my bodyguard, who I trust with my life…and hers, and the other my best friend, Jace. Who I trust just as deeply.
The mountains are behind us.
A narrow swathe of pine trees surrounding us, their branches intertwining to form a canopy overhead.
It’s a peaceful place.
Herplace.
And I’m going to ruin that too.
Boom!
Thunder rattles through the air, vibrates through my chest, my stomach. It shakes the pine needles overhead, dislodging glittering orbs of moisture that sprinkle over her skin, her hair, sparkling like diamonds even as they raise goose bumps in their wake. Above the trees, clouds gather, drawing together, darkening the sky in what feels like seconds.
A darkness that is suddenly split by a flash of lightning.
Fat, wet drops of rain begin plopping to the ground, turning the dirt to mud as they splatter onto my head, my suit.
Her beautiful dress.
Laughter fills the air—and it’s painful and beautiful all at once.
Because the sound that utterly captivates me in this moment is also what drew me to this sweet, gorgeous,innocentwoman, what coaxed me to ignore every single instinct I had to stay far, far away from her.
Briar’s laughter is not a sound I deserve to hear.
And I know it’s one I won’t hear again.
Noteveragain.
Not after what I’m about to do.
She laughs again as she tilts her head back, the drops caressing her face, her throat, soaking into the bodice of her dress.
The officiant stops, closes her book, glancing at us then up at the clouds. “Should we stop?”
