“Very well done, Esmerelda. You got away with that. I would be remiss if I didn’t warn you that you are skating on the edge of trouble, dear.”Athene’s words hit me.
Well, fuck this shit.
“I’m sure you didn’t expect me to stand here and lie, did you?”
“Indeed not. However, your husband handled the situation with rather more tact than you.”
“I am not my husband. Nor am I a manipulator.”
Before Athene can retort, Marcus turns to the alpha. “I humbly request to kiss my bride. I’m sure you can appreciate my urgency. One, because I’ve been dying to kiss her since she walked up the aisle, and two, I’m rather afraid of what might come out of her mouth next.”
You’d swear this was a comedy show rather than a wedding with the way the guests have been chortling throughout the ceremony, but before I can give it much more thought, Marcus steps forward and wraps his arms around me. With a flourish, he dips me low and away from the guests’ line of sight. He leans in, his breath teasing my lips. My tongue darts out my mouth to wet my lips in anticipation of his kiss. My pulse starts racing as he leans in ever closer. My body hums.
And then…
Nothing.
What the hell? Is he so intolerant of me that he can’t even kiss me? Well, I’ll show his pompous ass something. I bridge the minuscule gap until my lips press against his. The momentour mouths touch, heat flashes through me, and I’m flooded with attraction for the man I despise. Oh no. Absolutely not. I yank my lips from his, dousing the flames that just engulfed me. Marcus’s eyes burn with desire, and I wonder if he experienced what I just felt.
He stands, pulling me upright, and I’m unsteady on my feet. What the hell was that? Through the humming in my ears, I hear the alpha’s voice.
“With that, I pronounce you husband and wife.”
Ice fills my veins.
Goodbye, freedom.
4
MARCUS
When mywifeand I walk into the grand ballroom for our reception, no one bats an eye at the fact that between the ceremony and now, there has not been enough time for the traditional photoshoot to commemorate the “happy occasion”. I’m surprised the committee didn’t insist on it. I mean, don’t prisoners usually get their mug shots taken on the day they begin their sentence?
Our guests, which is mainly comprised of our large, extensive packs, as well as the council members, all stand and clap enthusiastically as we walk into the room. Whispers of what a handsome couple we are and how beautiful our children will be reach my ears, and I fight to keep a straight face. There will be no little kids running around looking like me. I might be opposed to this union, but I’m not going to do that to my wife. Even if our marriage is a farce.
As we walk past my great-aunt, I hear her inhale of breath as she turns to my cousin. “She’s a vision.” I can’t say they are wrong. My wife is absolutely gorgeous in her gown. I wonder ifshe wore the burgundy as a show of defiance or if it is because she wishes people to know she is not a virgin. My grip tightens instinctively, and if I wasn’t completely against this whole farce, I’d even say possessively, but since I don’t care about this, I ignore the instinct.
“If you must have your meaty paws all over me, would you be so kind as to loosen your grip before I lose all use of my arm,” Esmerelda all but hisses at me.
I lean in and whisper in her ear, “Just making sure you don’t make a run for it. Bride.” The word leaves my mouth like a curse word.
Esmerelda smiles sweetly at me. “Call me bride one more time, and I’ll rip out your liver and feed it to my dogs.”
“Trust me, wife. It’s a whole lot better than what I’d like to call you.”
We reach the bride-and-groom table, and I tighten my grip to indicate for her to sit down. A spark of defiance flashes in her eyes, but then she acquiesces and takes a seat. I’m not delusional—I know she has decided to choose her battles. I push her chair in, and she looks up at me. To anyone watching, this would look like a tender moment, except I can see the murder in her eyes. I place a kiss on her head, and the scent of her cherry shampoo hits me with the force of a wrecking ball and nearly brings me to my knees—much like the kiss in the church nearly did the same. My wife might well be the last person I wish to exchange pleasantries with, let alone marry, but there is no denying she has sexiness in spades. My cock presses angrily against my pants, and my wolf snarls, begging for the chance to escape and mark his territory.
I wonder how I will make it through the evening with Esmerelda’s scent beating against me like a battering ram.
Before long, the guests ignore us and get back to stuffing their faces and drinking more wine than they should. It’s a pitycouncil meetings didn’t take place under these conditions, then Esmerelda and I might not have found ourselves shackled to each other.
Come to think of it, if our families had just thrown a party like this, they might all have realized they have common ground without having to force our hands. Or, should I say, have the council force our hands.
I smile at the odd guest who makes eye contact and work hard to cover my disdain. It’s sickening how naïve everyone is to believe that, after being at war with each other for fifteen years, we would join together as we have. Then again, people believed what they want to believe.
The MC announces the father-daughter dance, and I relinquish my hold on Esmerelda. Her father cuts me a glare. I cover a smirk. Quite frankly, I should be the one glaring at him. I’m the one saddled with his feral daughter. The music starts to one of those cliché wedding songs that usually sets all the tears in motion. Under the guise of staring adoringly at my wife, I watch her with her father. Now is as good a time as any to start doing as much research on my wife and her family as I can.
What I don’t expect is to be touched when his eyes tear up. But what surprises me the most is when Esmerelda reaches up and cups her father’s cheek lovingly. It is clear the bond between them is very strong, and for a moment, I get the opportunity to see her in a slightly different light. It makes me realize that despite everything, she is also losing all her hopes and dreams due to this verdict. What I don’t like is the slight twinge of guilt I feel about how I’ve been treating her.
