It was the wedding day. My wedding day.
My palms were sweaty as I sat up in the waiting room, staring at my own pale face in the mirror.
Despite everything, I couldn’t help the tiny kernel of excitement that was growing in my chest. It was a far cry from the nerves and anxiety I felt from the man who was just downstairs—the same anxiety I was sure the rest of his pack was also feeling.
It had been a week since I had seen them last and a week since my father had shared his plans for me to become the vessel for his heir.
News of our marriage had rippled through the family, though if anyone had any opinions about it, I wouldn’t know. Hardlyanyone spoke to me outside of the dress fittings for a dress that had been pre-picked out for me.
Instead, I spent the week in my sunroom, trying to figure out exactly how I felt about the situation.
Marrying them was everything I had ever wanted since I was a little girl. They were my one obsession.
But did they feel the same way?
I knew Nico at the very least liked me if his kiss was any indication. My lips still tingled whenever I thought about it and the desire to do it again was increasing by the day.
Ranieri and Dante were always better at hiding how they felt about, well, anything. Ranieri with his indelible charm and Dante with his persistent silence.
But, with my newfound sense of smell, I knew that all of their scents were a match for mine. Scent matches were supposed to be fate—the universe coming together to give you a mix of scents that made your instincts happy. I never thought it could happen to me.
However, once I became a freak of nature, suddenly their scents were the best thing in the world.
Then there was Elio, the one I should have understood the most thanks to what I now understood was a tentative bond between us.
He had kissed me once like he couldn’t help himself, then he put space and distance between us after that as if he was nothing more than the protector my brother had created. After I bit him, I thought somehow it would help me feel how he was feeling, and instead, I felt more confused about him than ever.
His emotions were a mixed up jumble at all times now and they never showed on his face or in his actions. He held himself stiffly apart from me despite the underlying desire that I could feel beneath the chaos that was inside of his head.
My thoughts were interrupted when my eyes caught someone entering the room in the mirror. It was one of the venue staff, probably coming to tell me it was time to head downstairs.
With one last glance at myself in the mirror, I turned to look at her.
“Are they ready for me?” I asked out loud—something my father had been reminding me to do every chance he got this week.
The woman nodded once before ducking out of the room, probably assuming I would follow her.
The wedding was in the same church as the one that had occurred months ago. The same flowers had been ordered, the same guests had been invited, and it was even taking place at the same time.
I was just grateful that they had at least changed the dress from the frothy monstrosity that Peregrine Chandler had been forced into.
The dress I was wearing was soft and elegant with a lacy bodice that clasped high on my neck. It had probably been the easiest to tailor on such short notice, but at the very least it was comfortable and easy to walk in.
When we made it down to the entrance hall I found that it was empty except for my father who was tapping his foot impatiently as the event staff tucked my long veil into my hair and handed me my flowers. He didn’t even glance at me as he offered me his arm and I wished I had the courage to ask him why he was walking me down the aisle in the first place if he hated it so much.
The last time I had been in this church it had been to reluctantly watch Elio, Ranieri, Dante, and Nico get married to someone other than me. This time it was my turn.
I just wished it was under better circumstances.
There was no doubt in my mind that once my father got his heir I would be locked away in the estate, never to see the hypothetical child and certainly never to see my husbands again.
Then he would do the same thing to his grandchild that he did to Alesso and me—that much was obvious. While I had been largely ignored as a disappointment, Alesso had borne the brunt of our father’s physical abuse disguised as lessons in leadership.
I could still remember the bruises on the back of his calves when we were little and he would come to visit me after his mornings spent with our father. That level of brutality would only grow with age and I wouldn’t be able to protect any child while I had no power.
Just the thought of the same thing happening to my own child sent a wave of nausea through me and set the voices in my head off. Both sides of my new instincts rejected the idea of letting someone else raise my child—especially if that someone was the person who had made my life a living hell for as long as I could remember.
Silently, I tucked my hand into my father’s elbow and let him lead me into the packed cathedral.
