Esmerelda laughs. “Fair point.”
We walk the rest of the way back to the reception in surprisingly companionable silence. Just before we walk through the doors, Esmerelda holds out her hand, and I take it. It’s then I notice how perfectly her hand fits in mine. She reaches up and musses up my hair a little, pulling a few strands loose from the intricate style I wear for special occasions. She smiles at me when she notices my confusion. “Gotta put on a show.”
I chuckle. “Indeed.”
When we walk back into the reception, I notice the majority of the council members staring at us. Esmerelda leans in and puts a hand on my cheek. Her warm palm is oddly comforting, and I can’t help but think she’s being the tiniest bit nicer. It’s not the first time she’s touched my face, but there’s something different about it this time.
She tucks the stray strands of hair behind my ears and winks. “I think that ought to do it. I’m going to dance.”
She doesn’t invite me to dance with her, which works for me. I’m not much of a dancer, so I make my way to the back of the room where Leonard is silently watching me. As I approach, he smirks. “Changed your mind about fucking her, I see.”
I follow his gaze to where Esmerelda is dancing with Minerva and people I don’t know.
“Nope. I didn’t touch her.”
“And that’s why your hair looks the way it does? I’ve never seen a single hair out of place on you. Not even when we used to share a room as kids.”
I run a hand over my hair. “It’s all for show.”
He shoots me a skeptical look.
“Get used to it. Everything in my life is going to be this way.” The weight of my situation comes crashing down. I grab the glass of bourbon out of his hand and swallow it down.
“Please, help yourself.” Leonard’s tone drips with sarcasm.
“I’m going to get my bride. I’m done putting on a face for the night.”
It takes nearlyan hour to walk around the room and say our goodbyes, which we do separately. It would’ve taken half the time if we’d done it together, but from Esmerelda’s posture, she’s barely keeping up the happy-go-lucky front and having to play adoring wife is way out of her capacity right now. My own cheeks are sore from the fake smile I have spread across my face. If the guests weren’t completely intoxicated, I’m sure they would notice, but so far all I’ve heard is what a beautiful couple we are and how it’s clear we’re besotted with each other. People will believe what they want to believe for their inner peace.
The limo waits at the curb. Esmerelda gets in and all but presses herself against the far door. Taking her shoes off, she rubs her feet, then straightens and stares out the window, her face stony. The distance between us couldn’t get wider due to the confines of the car, since I’m also mashed against my door. Is this how it’s going to be from now on? Both of us eager to be as far away from each other while being forced to spend a lifetime with each other?
Esmerelda sighs, and I wonder if she’s thinking the same thing.
5
ESMERELDA
The sun pierces through the gap in the drapes. I pull the duvet over my head and groan. I need at least another fifteen hours of sleep after spending the entire day and most of the night faking it being the “happiest day of my life”, but once I’m awake, I’m awake. Even if I could go back to sleep, the dread that sits like a stone in my stomach won’t let me. I’m married. Married! To my enemy, no less. Every day will be spent pretending I’m in love with a man whose mere presence fills me with an all-consuming anger instead of the marriage filled with love and mutual respect I sometimes dreamed about. Even if I had a lapse in judgment and was nice to Marcus after he eased my mind about consummating the marriage, it doesn’t mean things have changed for me.
Prior to the wedding, if anyone had asked me what my future looked like, I’d have taken a knife in the eye before admitting I wanted the fairytale wedding with the happily ever after. In short, the marriage my parents have. I mean, who doesn’t want a life with someone who loves you unconditionally? Someone who looks at your achievements with pride instead of the disdain I’ve faced from my adversaries my whole life. Who wouldn’t want a husband to worship your body when you’re in your twenties orwhen you’re in your eighties? Marcus is so unaffected by me that the craving for more in my life nearly crushes me, and it’s only been one day.
Not that I’m affected by him, but still.
I sit up in the bed, unable to bear the pressure in my chest. Bringing up my knees, I clutch them to me, rubbing the satin pajama bottoms as I look around the room. To anyone else, the luxurious room would be warm and inviting. With wooden floors, a stone fireplace, and a large round tub in anticipation of romance, the room is the perfect honeymoon suite. I bet whoever made up the room would never have guessed the bride and groom would be sleeping in separate locations the night of the wedding.
My husband is currently sleeping on the pull-out couch in the sitting room. Idiot. I hope he has a stiff back when he wakes up. We’re adults, for crying out loud. What does he think I’m going to do? Jump his bones the moment he falls asleep after taking the time to reassure me he has no plan to consummate our marriage? That’s the thing I hate most about being a shifter. The fact that Marcus will be able to figure out what I’m feeling by using his heightened sense of smell puts me at a real disadvantage. Humans do not have to deal with this.
I smirk to myself as I flex the hand encased in the protective glove. Maybe he isn’t entirely idiotic for sleeping on the pull-out. I lift the edge of the mattress and feel under it, breathing out a sigh of relief when the silver dagger brushes against my glove. I may not have jumped his bones, but I wouldn’t have hesitated to use my dagger against him if he tried to kill me in my sleep.
I head into the bathroom to pee and get ready for the day. As I brush my teeth, I contemplate not only spending the day with Marcus, but the rest of our lives. The thought is almost crippling, so I give myself another ten seconds to wallow. I need to accept my fate and make the best of the situation. As I stare at myself inthe mirror, I don’t like the dead look in my eyes. I definitely need a pick-me-up. And what better way to do that than on the beach, soaking up some rays? A smile that is easily the most genuine smile I’ve had since being told I had to marry Marcus spreads across my face. Here, I can be myself without the eyes of any of the council members on me. I highly doubt they would send someone to spy on us while in St. Lucia.
I walk back into the bedroom and open the closet door. When we arrived last night, my clothes were neatly unpacked in the wardrobe. Thank goodness I didn’t bring any of my toys with on “honeymoon”. That would’ve sparked a few questions from whoever did the unpacking. I suppose they could’ve thought Marcus and I were a little kinky…
I burst out laughing, imagining Marcus being even remotely kinky. He probably wouldn’t even know how to turn a vibrator on. Feeling considerably better, I slip out of my PJs and put on my bright orange bathing suit, before slipping on a white cover-up. Sliding on my sandals, I complete the outfit with a floppy sun hat and decide to go get my lazy-assed husband up. The day is too beautiful to be spent indoors.
I rip open the bedroom door, intent on slamming it shut and startling Marcus awake, but Marcus is already up. He glances up from the book he’s reading and raises his eyebrows at me. He’s dressed and ready for the day in jeans and a button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The leather straps he wears on his right wrist bring my attention to his corded forearms. I’m not going to lie, I’m a sucker for defined forearms. It’s a pity they’re wasted on Marcus.
I’m so enamored with the rolled-up sleeve/leather strap combo that it takes me a minute to realize that not only is he reading on vacation, but he’s reading inside. Not on the stunning porch hammock or on one of the loungers in the private garden.On the couch. Sitting ramrod straight like he’s reading to the alpha.
