Page 27 of Outcast’s Vow

What the hell is this fucking feeling? And where the hell has it come from? I’ve never felt like this with a woman before.

What the hell have I become?

This must be just biology again, dominating my weak human emotions. It isn’t nice; it’s danger, and it’s a loss of control I promised myself I’d never allow.

The battle in my head is abruptly cut by the words of Latin filling the air. The Supreme Elder is speaking in the dead language. The ancient words sound like a magical spell being cast.

I glance over at the Supreme Elder. If Elwood Levine feels anything about me marrying his daughter, he’s masking it well. He hasn’t shown any sign of emotion since this ceremony started.

And then he stops. It’s my turn to speak.

“I claim my woman under the old ways,” I say, turning back to my bride. “Under the ancient laws of oath-keeping and blood-giving. She will be mine. And I will be hers. I swear.”

Sylvie’s breath hitches at the end of my vow. It’s so subtle that no one else in the room notices it.

But I do.

Is it recoil, or something more tantalizing?

It’s her turn now. No going back.

“I will be claimed,” Sylvie declares, voice steady. “I enter his domain. I take his name and accept his blood. I am his, and he is mine. I swear.”

Her hand tightens around mine. Is it fear, or is she seeking reassurance?

Whatever it is that prompts her, I squeeze back. Her lips part at my action. She blinks as she studies me.

We’re sharing something here. Something that can’t be explained. Something that shouldn’t exist between the two of us.

Beside us, the Supreme Elder lifts the ceremonial dagger from the crimson cushion. I let go of Sylvie’s hand and lift my palm. With the dagger, Elwood cuts into my flesh, lightly enough not to cause much pain, but deep enough to draw blood.

And then it’s Sylvie’s turn. She doesn’t make a sound when her father cuts her, but I notice the subtle tension gathering in her shoulders. Even if no one else does.

She’s trying to appear brave.

I respect that.

And then, my new wife and I clasp our cut hands, blood mixing with blood. Drops of red hit the ground around our feet as we join together both metaphorically and literally.

“Bound by oath and by blood,” the Supreme Elder mutters. “You two are now one, under the ancient way.”

This ceremony has taken place at the Castaways mansion. In fact, under it in the secret tunnels and caverns that sprawl below the remote estate.

An Elder rings a bell somewhere unseen. The ringing echoes through the cavern.

And then, silence.

It’s done.

Before I can even say a word to my wife, I am pulled to the side by men in suits. They hold me back as they rip open my shirt and quickly brand me with a tattoo of Sylvie’s name over my heart. I don’t utter a sound. My new spouse watches on, expressionless, as the letters are inked into my flesh, binding me to her forever as the most important thing in my life.

I want this.

Sylvie Tremblay. My wife. My ticket to a better life.

Now that the wedding ritual is over, the men in suits have dispersed around the cavern, talking in groups. Masked foot soldiers of the Order offer trays of sparkling golden champagne to the guests. It’s hard to ignore the fact that this room currently contains more wealth than most of the United States combined.

Sylvie and I are together now, observing the space just as we did on that island’s beach, each daring the other to speak first. Somewhere in here is Clement. It’s reassuring that my friend was here today to support me. I spotted him lurking in the back earlier, flashing a cheeky thumbs-up from across the room.