We were together for four years, apart for another four, hell replacing paradise in a blink. I will cause the fucking apocalypse on earth if I don’t get to spend the rest of my days with her, but I doubt even eternity could cure me of craving her. Loving her. Yearning for her every waking moment.
She rolls her engagement ring on her finger, catching my attention and calling up a memory. I designed it especially like that, so she would have something to focus on when her brain took over. We weren’t in a hurry to get married, something I regret now. She wanted to finish college; I wanted to step out of my father’s shadow. Back then, there was no hurry. Everything was simpler. No lies. No hurt. No doom trailing after us, darkening the bright future we envisioned.
“Should we announce the happy news to the underworld?” I suggest, before the past swallows me whole.
“Why not.” She shrugs and inches closer as I type a message in the group chat with Rafe and Tristan, my closest friends, including a photo from the wedding. I forward the same image and message to the Syndicate.
Let’s begin with congratulations,
comes the reply from Kieran.
Interesting, and what he said,
says Cameron.
It was time,
says Cato.
Convenient,
says Hayden.
Why doesn’t it surprise me? You must copy me in everything,
texts Tristan.
Zara rolls her eyes at his reply. No one can match him in his arrogance.
I expected at least an invitation,
says Rafe.
You don’t even like weddings.
So what?
“So dramatic,” she mumbles.
Her nearness short-circuits my reason, erasing any thought other than her. I place the phone down beside me, sure I will face an entire interrogation during our poker night, which coincides with me hosting it.
“Will you keep doing business with BRACON and the Council?” I ask her, even though I already know the answer.
“Yes, it was one of the reasons I married you.”
I palm my chest in fake hurt. “I feel used.”
She rolls her eyes at me and folds her hands in her lap. “No wonder you’re best friends with Rafe. You both have a penchant for drama.”
I arch a brow that only makes her smile before she frowns as if she can’t believe she does it. “I’ll deal with the Syndicate.”
Trying to stay focused on the topic is a feat when all I can think about is erasing the space between us, kissing the breath from her lungs, and feeding her my madness.
“I don’t need a man to fight my battles,” she says. “I didn’t even want a husband.”
In a flash, I wrap my hand around her neck and tug her even closer, my breath fanning her lips. “But you wanted me, didn’t you, wife?” She flinches, and I continue, driven by the urge to make her see me, fucking realize who I am to her. “Let me be fucking clear. You’re my woman. Mine to care for. Mine to protect. Mine to support. You needing me is irrelevant, as it won’t stop me. In our world, a powerful alliance makes the difference between life and death. You’re a smart woman, Zara. You wouldn’t have proposed it without considering all aspects. Throughout humanity, marriage has fulfilled one role. Ours won’t be different,” I snicker, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue.
“You’ll get an heir. We grow stronger. It’s a situation that is mutually beneficial, so why do you look pissed?” she asks, her tone laced with irritation.
