She kissed his cheek, then returned to Viktor’s side, pressing close. His hand traced the silk at her waist, and she shivered at the gentleness of it.
“Will you not dance?” she asked Gabriel.
The big elf only smirked.
“Come,” she said, tugging his hand. “Dance with me—just once. You’ve earned at least that much joy.”
Viktor grinned as Gabriel surrendered to her command, letting her draw him into the swirl of dancers beneath the starlight. Dask, she was breathtaking.
A brush at his arm broke his reverie.
Storne’s voice rumbled low.
“Carry her overyourthreshold tonight.”
“Commander?”
“A father should not be privy to some things.”
Viktor bit his lip to hide his smile.
“Understood.”
Storne clapped him once on the shoulder before striding off toward Saecily and the wine.
Amerei returned moments later, cheeks flushed, Gabriel at her side. She tapped the rim of his glass, breathless. He nodded, and she took a sip.
“Gabriel Feindoran,” she said warmly. “You’re as poetic on your feet as you are in your letters.”
Gabriel faltered, eyes shining. She squeezed his hand gently.
“Jasmine loves you as you love her. Don’t lose hope.”
His voice came quiet as he bowed. “Thank you, Princess.”
She slipped back into Viktor’s arms.
The air stilled, the music thinning to a hum as her gaze met his. Her smile spoke straight into his soul.
“My bride,” he whispered.
She sighed softly at the sound, and it only deepened the ache to take her from the meadow and make her his. She pulled him closer, murmuring against his lips, “Let them dance.”
He barely heard her over the drum of her heart pressed to his chest, over the riot in his own veins. His grip tightened at her waist, fighting the urge to carry her away.
“I only want you,” she breathed.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
And Then, the Dawn
The vows were whispered. The gown was shed.
Nothing could stop the storm now.
Amerei pulled Viktor up the hillside, her laughter scattering like bells—bright, defiant, daring him to catch her. His pulse thundered with the chase, with the sight of her hair streaming wild in the twilight—his bride fleeing only so he could claim her again.
He caught her at the steps of the apothecary, his arm banding around her waist as he pinned her against the wooden arbor where they’d been wed.
