This afternoon, when I stepped into the living room wearing it, neither brother spoke. Kayden looked torn between kissing Donna and staking her. Asher muttered something sharp in Gaelic and refused to translate.
Too late to change, so here we are.
The brothers are sharp in tuxedos—Asher's with military detailing, crisp lines, Kayden's a more classic cut that lets his arrogance do the work. Our crew looks equally striking: Astrid in a tailored men's suit, shoulders squared, daring anyone to comment. No one would be that stupid, I'm sure.
Eira in flowing white, ethereal as a beautiful ghost made flesh. Winston, Tomas, and Jace stuffed into tuxes too: Jace smug as if he were born in one, Winston tugging at his collar like it's choking him, and Tomas wearing the expression of a man sentenced to death by bow tie.
"If you ripped it off here, we'd draw even more attention," I mutter under my breath.
On the surface, I keep my expression cool, detached, and polished, the kind of upper-class mask I learned young and swore I'd never wear again. But it comes in handy now. I hold it in place while my eyes sweep the crowd.
I feel the stares—men and women both. And I don't know if it's the dress, the two vampires flanking me, or the allure bleeding off me because my nerves won't stay caged. Probably all of it.
"I'm not sure we can getmoreattention," Asher says dryly, noting every glance like he's cataloging threats.
I can feel Kayden winding up for something sharp when Donna sweeps in to intercept us, glowing gold under the lights. Her gown catches every shimmer, her jewelry making her look like she stole a piece of the constellation.
"Here you are," she says brightly.
I glance at her fully covered neckline, then at my own very-much-not, and narrow my eyes. "Really? You put me in this—" I gesture at the deep plunge, the bare back, "—while you button yourself up to the chin?"
Donna waves me off like I'm spouting nonsense. "I've got plenty of skin showing." She angles her leg to show the high slit, stilettos flashing like glass daggers. "And you? You've got curves for days, but keep hiding under their shirts. Time to shake things up."
Kayden groans. "Oh yes, wonderful plan—half-naked wife paraded in front of half the town and a satyr who already thinks he owns her."
"Imagine his face," Donna shoots back instantly. "He'll be sick with jealousy."
That shuts Kayden up for half a beat. Long enough for Asher to add, calm and quiet, "He already is."
"Not as much as he'll be when the two of you have her on your arms while he's forced to behave," Donna counters without missing a step.
Kayden scowls, muttering, "Have you always been this insufferably bright, or just when it comes to fashion?"
"Always," she huffs. "You never noticed because you're busy being a giant pain in the ass."
Kayden shrugs.Fair enough.
We move on, Donna falling in beside us.
"How's it progressing?" Asher asks, voice low but clipped.
"All according to plan. Father strutting around like he ascended Olympus, Mother fussing with her ladies-in-waiting. The usual just grander." Donna gestures toward the raised dais where cameras flash and journalists circle like vultures. "Pre-interviews before the speeches and the signing."
"I don't clock many of his people," Astrid murmurs behind me.
I realize the same. Only a handful I recognize.
"Can't smell them either," Winston adds, quieter. "But with this many bodies and perfumes, hard to be sure."
I glance back at him. "We smell different to you?"
Winston nods. "Yeah. Learned to tell this week, tracking them. Each has a note to them."
"Undertones," Jace cuts in. "Like moss and damp earth. Or fresh water. Meadows. Blooming trees. Subtle, but it's there if you know to look."
Tomas scans the perimeter, arms folded. "Plenty of security, but most are human."
"As if he's saying he's not here for a fight," Asher mutters, frowning.
