She lifted her sparkling eyes bright with love. “I’m your Queen.”
“And I am your King,” he rebutted.
The End
Crashed Wedding
The sky was a bright blue; the guests had come from everywhere.
Witches, warlocks, werewolves and even a few half-Surrem had been invited, along with Raijin’s pseudo father and others the women had met along their journey.
The seated guests waited for the four brides who had meticulously planned their wedding. Some had thought it was over the top to have one ceremony for four couples.
Namely the four notorious men who now stood waiting.
Alek’s sons stood near the doors, positioned to open them when the time came. They looked ceremonial enough in their suits, but none of them had forgotten to carry weapons.
Alek stood at the front, still as stone. Only his eyes moved. He counted heartbeats without thinking. Measured the air. Marked the exits.
One of the grooms looked like he was on edge and was clearly contemplating going in search of his bride. His green eyes constantly flicked toward the two doors that had yet to open.
“When was this supposed to start?” Malcolm asked Castian.
“An hour ago,” the warlock replied from between gritted teeth.
Malcolm’s eyes narrowed toward the podium. “Are you sure they haven’t run away?”
“If they ran away, do you think Alek would still be standing here?” Castian asked, giving him a look that suggested Malcolm’s continued existence was accidental.
“No, it’s possible for Lanias to run without me knowing,” Alek admitted calmly, though his gaze never left the doors. “I’ve given up on expecting her to follow any plan.”
Raijin cleared his throat. “Sabina wouldn’t leave me. She’s the sweet one amongst the four.”
“I know that’s a fucking lie,” Malcolm muttered. “You forget I remember when she went into berserk mode.”
Castian and Alek both took two deliberate steps back.
Malcolm blinked at them. “What?”
Only then did he notice Raijin had grown slightly larger, the seams of his jacket pulling at his shoulders.
“Ah, shit. I mean she’s sweet when not in berserk mode,” Malcolm corrected quickly, tugging at his tie. “Where are they?”
A large red-haired man approached them, drawing their attention. Alek had been introduced to him the day before as Cael, a former colleague of Lanias. Alek had not enjoyed that introduction. The easy banter between the two of them had tested his patience in ways he had not appreciated.
It was only after learning that Cael was married to Madison, a green with three children, that Alek abandoned the idea of tearing his head from his body. Fallen angels were difficult to kill, but he had been willing to test the theory.
Cael stopped beside him and leaned slightly closer. “Lanias sent me a message. Said she’s dealing with a fashion emergency. It’ll be a minute.”
Alek’s jaw tightened before he forced a nod. “Of course she is.”
Cael gave him a knowing look and returned toward the back of the seating area, where his wife immediately pressed herself against his side.
Madison tilted her chin and covered his lips briefly before speaking. “Did you at least tell them they were being attacked?”
Cael lifted a large hand and toyed with the curl that had fallen against her cheek. “Something along those lines.”
“Good,” Madison replied.
