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“Damascus, I would like you to meet my fiancé Talia Simmons.” Smiling down at her, Draven gave her a wink
“Talia, this High Priest Damascus, he runs a human coven that dates back to before the dark ages.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, my Lady,”
Pulling her eyes away from the intense stare of the woman, Talia returned his smile easily as she took his offered hand. “Please, call me Talia”
His grip warm, he nodded, “of course, it’s an honour to have been asked to oversee this event for you both,”
“Damascus here is going to be performing our wedding for us.” Draven’s hand came to rest on her back as he drew her closer to his side. “I thought something similar to our first wedding would be a nice touch,”
“Oh?” Talia raised her eyebrows, looking up to meet the man’s gaze. “What makes it different?”
“The difference, Lady Talia,” the woman replied gently, her voice almost like a whisper. Talia couldn’t help but look back into her icy blue eyes. “We are basing our ceremony on an Arcandian custom,” she went on. “Your two souls will be truly entwined, never to part again.”
“I won’t lose you again” Dravens voice was thick with emotion as his grip on her hip tightened.
“Will it place you in danger? What if I was to be killed? They are still hunting me?”
“When this ritual is done right, you will share the powers of your husband and he will share yours.”
“It will be done right” Dravens voice was low and his tone full of unspoken threat.
“Of course, my lord,” Damascus’s voice was confident as he shot his companion a look. “We have prepared everything and double checked it. Simone is just being cautious with her wording,”
“Perhaps you would like to see it all?” Stepping forward, her mouth curling into an encouraging smile, Simone gestured to a nearby door.
“I would love to” she had always assumed she would have an outdoor wedding, so she was eager to see what Dravens had organised. Security had to come first, but everything here was already so beautiful. The wedding chapel had to be just as perfect.
Smiling down at her excited tone, Draven nodded.
Turning to where Ghost was standing by the door, Talia waved her over. “You have to see it too” Ghost pushed off the door frame, her expression neutral as it always was whenever she was around Draven. Hopefully, in time, her friendship with her would override her caution of Draven. Once she and the other wolves seen how much change she was going to bring as Draven’s Queen.
The whipping would be the first thing to go. That was a promise she had made to herself on Hyde’s behalf. Ignoring the pang of guilt the thought of him always brought her, Talia grasped Ghost’s hand, pulling her along with her, as she followed Draven and priests.
Stepping into the room that was nestled in the heart of the house. Her footsteps slowing, she let go of Ghost’s fingers to gape at the room. The circular room was so large that she had to turn around multiple times to take in all the details. Her hair standing on end as she stared up at the almost full moon that shone perfectly through the glass ceiling overhead.
Silken drapes hung covering the walls in delicate folds, with lights strung in a cascade of falling, flicking lights. A thick red carpet lay rolled out, leading to a large stone altar that stood in the middle of the room. Surrounded by a new pentagram designed over the stone floor. Painted in silver, it glittered in the soft light. The ancient black marble reflecting the small glow of half a dozen candles that covered the top. Two tall chalices and a sheathed knife sat waiting.
“Wow,”
Her eyes moving over the hundred plus waiting chairs that sat empty in arranged small sections of rows, at every point of the pentagram.
Draven took a step closer, his hands reaching out to lift hers into his own. He turned her face towards him and with a gentle touch, wiped away the tear that had fallen down her cheek.
“You don’t like it?”
His voice was low, meant only for her.
Not like it? What kind of question was that? She loved it. Every part of it was perfect. He had even had her family crest engraved on the side of the altar next to his. It was perfect. With the glass ceiling, it was as close to the outside wedding that they could get and still be protected from the eyes of his enemies. Her enemies now.
“I love it,”
“Then why the tear, my love?”
“I wish my grandmother could be here. She would love all of this,”
or she would be begging her not to go through with it.
