He knew Jono would get nothing but truth from his scent with that answer. The kiss was expected—wanted, even—and Patrick turned into it, ignoring the faint flash of a camera from the wedding photographer that seeped through his closed eyelids.
Jono pulled back, smiling, wolf-bright blue eyes full of the same love Patrick saw every morning when they woke up together. “Then let’s get married.”
“It’s about time,” Wade said loudly, clearly eavesdropping.
“Yeah!” Lillian piped up, making everyone laugh.
It didn’t take long for the wedding organizer to cue the DJ outside. Music that had been soft background noise changed tune and pitch, the notes rising in the air. Patrick could only imagine everyone seated outside turning in their seats to watch the doors open. Lillian skipped out with a nod from Sage, her hand already digging into her basket for rose petals. Wade followed at a slightly more sedate pace, swinging his own basket a little as he walked.
Laughter rose above the music, so whatever the pair were doing with their rose petals, it sounded amusing. Jono laughed softly beside him, fingers still intertwined, neither of them letting go.
The wedding organizer signaled to Sage, who swept forward on her own with her chin held high, dress fluttering around her as she walked with all the grace of a supermodel outside. Then, attendants closed the doors, and Patrick and Jono were urged to stand in front of them.
Jono lifted Patrick’s hand to his mouth, lips brushing over his knuckles, making Patrick shiver just a little. Jono smiled at him, soft and fond. “Ready?”
“Always,” Patrick said, never letting go.
When the doors finally opened, the rich notes of the song they’d chosen for their walk down the aisle filled the air, and they stepped outside together, hand in hand. No clouds in the summer blue sky impeded the afternoon sunlight. The grass was bright green beneath their feet as they walked together toward the flower arch above the altar up ahead. Family and friends stood from their seats on either side of the aisle, heads craning around to look at them.
They’d asked for everyone to leave the photographs and videos to the professionals they’d hired. No cell phones meant no one was jostling for the perfect angle as they walked over the flower petals Wade and Lillian had strewn down the aisle.
The estate’s garden stretched behind the altar, with its many ponds and fountains and trimmed plants an elegant backdrop. Standing at the altar, wearing a pressed Mage Corps uniform gleaming with ranking pins and medals, stood Gerard Breckenridge, former captain of the Hellraisers, currently living his life as Cú Chulainn beyond the veil. He smiled broadly at them, silver eyes meeting Patrick’s with pride.
“Well, it only took years to get you both here. Glad to see the tradition of dragging Patrick along to have a good time is still alive and well,” Gerard said, eliciting laughter from the wedding guests as Patrick and Jono finally stepped up to the altar.
“Oh, screw you,” Patrick said, mindful of Lillian and her very sharp ears and willingness to repeat anything someone said. He couldn’t stop smiling though, happy that Gerard had been able to come on such short notice and had been willing to act as their officiant. “It’s my wedding day. You’re supposed to be nice to me.”
“I’m helping you get married, doesn’t that count? Speaking of the reason we’re all here.” Gerard clapped his hands together, the sound catching everyone’s attention as he used magic to allow his voice to be heard easily by everyone. “We’re gathered here today, from near and far, friends and family and pack alike, to see two of the most deserving people I have the honor of knowing be wed.”
Patrick didn’t bother holding back his smile, a warmth bloomingin his scarred chest that had nothing to do with the soulbond as he and Jono turned to face each other. He reached for Jono with his other hand, both of them holding on to each other as they stood side by side, as they always had.
Patrick had lived most of his life with gods meddling in it. He believed in them because he had no choice, but they had no place in the wedding. Gerard knew that, and the words he spoke for the ceremony were secular in a way, despite his background.
“Patrick Collins and Jonothon de Vere have walked some desperately hard roads through no fault of their own to find peace. Words and deeds have bound them”—Patrick snorted at Gerard’s subtly arched eyebrow as he didnotmention the soulbond, but those in the know would clue in to the unspoken reminder—“in ways many of us will never experience. To that end, I offer this cord as a symbol of your devotion to each other and the way your lives are forever entwined.”
The gold cord seemingly appeared out of thin air in Gerard’s hand, the magic of its making brushing softly against Patrick’s senses. It was suffused with power, made with care, the essence of both Gerard and Órlaith twined through it. Having it wrapped around his and Jono’s hands and deftly knotted was like being wrapped in a warm blanket, Gerard’s words washing over them like a blessing.
“With this binding, may everyone see what ties you together in this life and beyond. May your troubles be less and your blessings be more, and nothing but happiness come through your door,” Gerard said.
The traditional blessing was one both Patrick and Jono had agreed on just the other day when Gerard and Órlaith had come over for dinner to discuss the ceremony. It had been a long night of reminiscing, of laughter and wine and whiskey, their many wars far behind them on some other shore.
Gerard settled his hands above and below their bound ones, a soft smile on his beautiful face. “May you know nothing but peace.”
The flare of warm magic that suffused Patrick as well as Jono,judging by Jono’s rapid blinking, was more than a blessing. It was a godly decree from one whom Patrick had thought of as his brother in arms when they had served together in the Mage Corps and a friend always.
If peace was Gerard’s present to them, Patrick was not going to say no.
“With the handfasting complete, I release you to speak your vows and exchange rings,” Gerard said. A simple tug on the cord with his hand and a bit of magic unraveled it. He tucked it into a pocket to give to them later before taking a small step back.
Patrick let go of Jono’s hands, turning to receive his ring from Wade while Jono did the same with Sage. The metal still held the ghost of dragon magic in it, pricking against his senses. Patrick tipped his head back slightly, looking up into Jono’s familiar wolf-bright blue eyes. Despite all the literal hell they’d gone through, he was glad they’d ended up here.
Jono reached for Patrick’s left hand, fingers warm. Jono had won the coin toss Wade insisted they perform to see who would get to say their vows first.
“A long time ago, I said I would be your weapon if you would be my pack.” Jono’s grip tightened around his hand, as if they were both holding on to forever and never wanted to let go. “I don’t regret my offer, and I’ll always love you, no matter what. You were who I was looking for, even when I didn’t know I was missing anything in my life. I’d fight the gods all over again for you, but I’m glad I don’t have to.”
Jono’s lips quirked up into a smile just for him, and Patrick couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him as Jono slid the ring onto his finger. The gold was warm against his skin, the feel of the ring new but like he’d never lived without it before.
Patrick reached for Jono’s left hand, holding the wedding ring over the tip of Jono’s finger. The way his stomach swooped was all excitement, not nervousness, because there wasn’t anything to be nervous about when it came to the rest of their lives together.
