Holding my gaze, he says, “Who gives this woman to me?”
“No!” my mother shrieks, and I jump, turning to find she’s shaken her gag off. True to my story, the saint’s blood is passed down maternally, meaning my mother wouldn’t be able to be enchanted like the others.
Snarling, Alister waves a hand, and my brother tucks the edge of his scythe beneath her throat. She gulps, and to my dear mother’s acting credit, tears glisten in her eyes in the gleam of the moonlight, fairy bulbs, and candle flames.
“As I was saying,” Alister murmurs, “who gives this woman to me?”
Bowing low, my father passes my hand off into his. “I do, my liege.”
Holy corn on the cob. My knees might actually not hold up here.
As Alister’s fingers wrap around mine, I fear passing out may be imminent. He kisses my knuckles. I choke on my heartbeat. “Oh, dear saint.” His eyes lift, and his smile condemns. “I believe you understand the risk of denying me now. I’ve taken your family under my control. They are mine for one purpose, and one purpose only—that you might also give yourself to me, becomingmine, too.”
I understand that I have more than met my match.
I understand that I am going to marry this man—but not because he’s threatening my family or anything. No. That would be a silly reason when logic dictates that an ever-present, and irritating, reality persists around us.
I’m going to marry him because if this rush in my chest isn’t the plummet of falling in love, I don’t know what it could possibly be. I’m going to marry him because there has never been someone so willing to write me into a life of stories in the way he is.
In his eyes, I see dark promises. And in his actions, I know he’ll keep every last one.
Steeling myself as best I can on my trembling limbs, I say, “Don’t hurt them.”
“I won’t—if you behave.”
I let my eyes skim the harrowingly beautiful scene. “I see no officiator. If you are determined to bind us, who’s going to request our vows?”
December clears her throat as she abandons the hostages in favor of stepping up to the arbor. “I will. Should my master permit me the honor.”
Alister tucks an arm around my waist and pulls me in. His eyes never leave me as he says, “Begin.”
Dreamily, despite all her ebony attire, December says, “We are gathered here tonight to witness the joining of my dear friend, August Renee Winslow, and her soul’s mate, Alister Dominic Montgomery.”
I straighten as his full name comes unexpectedly.
“Oh?” Alister murmurs. “So you already knew?”
My fists ball in my wedding gown. “W-well, maybe a little bit.”
“And the blond thing, too, I presume? Here I thought I’d need to suggest my hair changed from dark magic.”
My cheeks flush. “You’re insane.”
“I suppose I am. I’m half certain that’s how we got here.” Nestling, he kisses my neck through the gauze of my veil. “You’ll have to tell me the story of how you found out later. I did think I was ever so careful and had you ever so duped.”
He really was so careful, but he never could have suspected that I’d go play Sherlock at his grandparents’ house.
December clears her throat. “As I was saying, Alister Montgomery, Prince of Capitalism and Other Such Wicked Things, do you take August Winslow to be your unlawfully wedded wife, to have her, and to hold her, and bring her endless joy, and paint her countless stories…for so long as you both shall live?”
“I do.”
“And do you, August Winslow, Princess of Stories, take Alister Montgomery to be your unlawfully wedded husband, to have him, and to kiss him, and to use that inspiration to write me many more wonderful tales wherein I may not need to wait until theveryend to indulge in a meager peck…” Her lashes flutter as she remembers the plot. “…for so long as you both shall live?”
I look at Alister, then past him, at my parents and friends and family. “Do I have a choice?” I whisper.
Slipping his warm hand beneath my veil, he cups my jaw and says, “No, not really. Not if you wish for them to see the dawn.”
“And if my blood poisons you,” I whisper.
