Page 31 of Married to the Devil

“Shush now.” Rafe nods to the priest. “Finish it, Father.”

The priest coughs. “Ah, I was saying—to have and to hold from this day forward, to honor and to keep him, in plenty and in want, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, so long as you both shall live?”

“I have to,” I say, eyes downcast. “I do.”

Because of Hattie. Because they have my daughter.

I want to scream with the horror of it.

“With this ring, I marry you. What I have is yours, what is mine, I put between you and the world.” Rafe leans down and kisses my finger before slipping a simple gold ring on.

It fits. Yet again.

Almost like he planned this down to the last detail.

“What God has joined, let no one divide. By the authority entrusted to me, I declare you husband and wife. You may kiss⁠—“

Rafe enfolds me in his arms and presses his mouth to mine.

I’m dizzy. I barely kiss him back at first, but I can’t stop myself. Soon I’m hungry for him, desperate for his taste as it all floods back: that night, locked in my brain, the ecstasy of him, the terror I felt then and now, bending and breaking against the walls of my mind. He holds me tight as I whimper and releases his lips from mine, pulling back to stare into my eyes.

There’s no sorrow, no uncertainty, no hint that what’s happening is wrong.

“Now you’re both mine,” he says and whisks me away, back down the aisle.

“Wait,” I say, twisting, looking back. “Hattie⁠—“

“Our daughter will not be separated from us, don’t worry. Theodora is bringing her along.”

“Who? What’s happening? Rafe⁠—“

“I’ll explain another time.” He tugs me closer. “Nod to Cassian. We owe him a debt.”

The brother waves casually like he can’t wait to get the hell out of here as I’m marched past.

“Why are you doing this?”

He says nothing. I’m led into the hall, but he doesn’t stop there. Rafe continues on, through the mansion, down to the rear entrance. I struggle at one point but his grip is iron and all he does is growl for me to stay calm or else he’ll have to drag me by the skull. And won’t that be a pity? To ruin the bride’s beautiful hair on her wedding night?

It’s sick.

There’s a black car waiting and I have the sudden epiphany that if I get in there, I won’t ever be free again. I yank backwards, nearly stumbling, scrambling for the sidewalk, blindly freaking out⁠—

“Mommy, what’s the matter?”

I look up to see the tall woman, Theodora, holding Hattie’s hand.

Rafe looms by my side. His face is thunder and death. It’s beautiful and horrible all at once. He holds out a hand.

“Get up, wife. We’re leaving.”

“Mommy?” Hattie sounds scared. “Did you fall?”

“I’m okay, baby.” I let Rafe help me up. “Mommy slipped, that’s all.”

“I fall a lot,” Hattie says proudly to Theodora. “But I don’t cry. Sometimes I cry. I cry a little but not a lot.”

“That’s a strong girl,” Theodora says.