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When I saw the dress she had created for me, I was inclined to see things her way.
Until I got to the buttons that ran up and down the back. It was an intricate piece, sleeveless and cut tight to the body until it flared beneath the hips out into countless layers of tulle. The bodice was covered in intricate webs of gemstones that glittered in the firelight. Iwasn’t sure how it had been made so perfectly to fit my body, since no one had taken a single measurement. Magic, most likely. Unless Cole had been feeling me up last night for more practical purposes.
I managed the first two-thirds with ease, but for all my shifter strength, I couldn’t get the last few latched. I twisted around, trying to see what I was doing in the mirror, but it made no difference. A growl of frustration rose in my throat.
“Now, what could have my future wife making a sound like that?”
I spun, fabric flailing everywhere while I hastily pressed a hand to the front of the dress to stop it from falling off. Not that myfuture husbandwould likely have complained.
“This dress is a torture device. I think it’s Hecate’s revenge for making her run the kingdom the past few months.”
The right side of his lip quirked up. “I have to say, I’m rather fond of this kind of torture.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you were the one who had nearly pulled a muscle trying to button all of these.” I gestured to my back and spun around so he could see.
When I turned back to face him, the look on his face was one of pure hunger.
“We can’t have that, now can we?” He strode across our bedroom.
“You’re not supposed to see me before the ceremony, you know.” Shifters didn’t have weddings exactly. Your moon-matched bond was supposed to transcend that. Usually, the night true mates met, though sometimes after, they’d mark each other with a claiming bite to cement the bond. The mark was as good as wedding rings, though some indulged in those as well. Sometimes, if they gave up on their moon-matched mate, shifters would pair up in common matings, butthose didn’t end in claiming bites.
That happened when, you know, your mate didn’t forsake you and then kill you. But I’d read plenty of books in the castle’s massive library, and they were extremely clear on the human customs.
“You’ll break the laws of the universe, but this is too much?” he teased, sweeping my hair to one side. His fingers trailed across my exposed back, barely more than a graze. The brief contact set every nerve alight.
I scoffed. “I have to have some standards.”
“But then who would rescue you from all those hard-to-reach buttons?”
Fair point. “Fine, you can stay if you get the top ones latched.”
“Hmm. I don’t know, at this point, I’m more inclined to undo the rest.” His hand drifted lower, squeezing my backside.
My eyes flared wide in the mirror. “That comesafterthe wedding, remember?”
“Such a traditionalist.” Hetsked. “Besides, after you’re my wife in truth, I won’t have the patience. I’ll just rip it off your body.”
The words could have been a joke, but there was not a shard of doubt in my mind that Cole planned to do exactly that.
“If you’re not here to help me with the buttons from, well, Hell, what are you doing here? Checking to make sure I didn’t get cold feet and decide I didn’t want to marry a possessive, demanding, grumpy male?”
“You forgot ‘bossy.’ I know you’re fond of that one.”
Okay, I did usually call him that too. “Did I mention know-it-all?”
“I’ll add it to the list.”
He didn’t deny the accusation, though. Maybe there was a grain oftruth to my accusation.
“Too bad,” I said. “I’ve decided this possessive, demanding, grumpy, bossy, know-it-all male ismine.”
In the mirror, I watched his face light into a grin. “Of all the things you’ve called me, that’s my favorite.”
“Mine?”
“Yours,” he agreed. “In heart, in body, in spirit.”
I melted at the affection in his words. I wanted to turn and kiss him, but he had dutifully shifted his attention to the buttons. I watched his movements in the mirror, then shifted my attention to us. What a pair we made. His dark features were accentuated by a matching dark suit he wore. It was a thousand times more formal than what he’d worn to the ball. This seemed molded from darkness, curved around his body. A crown adorned his head. It wasn’t particularly large or flashy; a circlet of black metal with spires of varying heights. In contrast, my hair was bright and bold. My dress practically glowed. Opposites. Death and life. An unlikely, yet perfect, match.
