“Not particularly,” I deadpan. “But I figured we should get at least one awkward, wedding-style shuffle out of the way before I’m stuck with you forever. Following tradition and all.”
That should cover up the fact that last night wasn’t just about avoiding him.
He smirks. “Very well, wife.”
He pulls me close, one hand on my waist, the other holding my hand like we’ve done this a thousand times before. We sway in small circles, and I almost step on his feet twice. He doesn’t laugh, but I don’t miss the way the corners of his mouth twitch.
“You’re terrible at this,” he murmurs.
“I never claimed to be good.”
We finish the dance and pulled apart awkwardly, Sariya applauding us as I blush.
She turns to us with a sly grin. “The honeymoon suite is ready. I hope it’s to both of your liking, so you can enjoy the rest of your beautiful day in peace… or not.” She winks.
Heat blooms across my cheeks. “Thank you,” I say, my voice shy and full of gratitude. I turn to Aran and pull him into a tight hug. “Thank you for being here.”
“I shall see you when you return, Your Highness.” He teases gently.
“I’m not a queen yet, Aran. And please, call me Daisy.”
“Yet,” he says with a smile. “But of course, Daisy.”
Korithax turns to me, offering his hand. “Shall we?”
I hesitate, but place my hand in his and nod, and together we follow Maren toward the suite we would share for the first time as a married couple.
Gods help me… I was about to spend the night with my seven-foot demon husband.
Chapter 37
Korithax
She was my bride. My wife. My Queen.
And now she walked hand in hand with me to our honeymoon suite, wearing the most beautiful gown I’d ever seen on any woman. She looked like a living, breathing goddess.
And she was mine. Theoretically speaking. I knew she didn’t actually belong to me. She couldn’t stand me. But for now, I was going to let myself stay in the illusion of being happily married, just for tonight.
Maren escortsus to the large citrine doors, bows once, then takes her leave. Daisy steps forward to open the door, but I place a hand on her shoulder to stop her.
“Well, since you’re so adamant about keeping up tradition—like you were last night—” I mutter sarcastically, “let’s continue the mortal customs, shall we?”
“What do you mean?—”
Her shriek cuts off her words as I scoop her up into my arms and kick open the door, carrying her over the threshold like mortals do for good luck… or for some other dumb shit. She giggles, slapping at my chest lightly.
“Put me down, you idiot.”
I place her gently on the floor—but keep her in my arms just a moment longer.
“I like that sound,” I murmur.
She doesn’t respond, instead she averts her eyes and starts looking around the room in awe. I know I should be colder and keep my distance. But something about her laugh unravels all the edges I’ve spent centuries sharpening. And gods, it pisses me off. I don’t want to feel that way, but regardless, that feeling sits there, clawing at my chest. It’s not softness I feel towards her. But I feel the need to be less of a monster around her, even if I’m not entirely sure how.
The room’s large—palatial, even. A massive four-poster bed sits in the centre, draped in sheer canopies that release a soft rain of petals, though none ever touch the sheets. Floor-to-ceiling folding doors stand wide open, letting in the warm breeze and the gentle sound of waves rolling in from the ocean. Pink and coral hues from the sun bathe the room in soft light, and golden butterflies flutter around us, leaving shimmering trails behind them. A wraparound balcony surrounds the suite, white gleaming marble that reflects the sun.
She steps outside, resting her hands on the marbled railing, and tilts her face toward the sun. She closes her eyes, inhaling deeply, looking so utterly at peace. I pad up behind her and stop at her back.
