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My pulse increased, focus narrowing. This physical reaction was what I experienced when going into a fight. Awareness of every detail began to filter rapidly through my brain.
The bride, heavily veiled, trailed toward me, her father tall and commanding next to her. The dress clung to her in all the right ways, and my groin tightened to think of those curves. She might be here to kill me, but somehow, that just made it hotter. I tried to peer past the thick lace, searching for her electric gaze. I couldn’t see it, but I couldfeelit. Focusing on her veiled face, I met her stare measure for measure.
Chapter 13 – Talia
The chilly, piercinggaze from the groom had my insides knotting together. The hunger from last night wasn’t present, but I knew it was concealed behind his hard visage
Stopping at the end of the aisle, my father leaned into me. I had to dip my head so that his lips could reach my cheek. Although the thick lace remained between us, it was the first time he’d demonstrated this kind of affection.
“Courage,” he hissed, voice so low it was unlikely anyone heard.
I stole a look at the lone female in the front pews, swathed in royal blue. It was the famous sister, who was rumored to be the butcher’s mistress since there was no blood relation between them. But there was only one person who mattered here and now. Towering over me, even with the shoes I wore, Constantine Drakos waited for me to take the final steps toward him. And with some supernatural strength, I did.
I turned to face him and once more locked eyes with the butcher, conscious there hadn’t been one moment in which he’d taken that hard gaze off me. The veil made it possible to meet his black eyes, mirrors of my own. It would be all too easy to lose myself in their dark depths.
The officiant began the ceremony, which would be redacted to the barest pieces. There was no mass celebration and no extras like hymns. Rather, this was a plain introduction that could have been copied from the internet, carefully lacking in personalization.
I gazed at the man I was marrying and felt...nothing. Or rather, nothing I was supposed to feel. There wasn’t a touch of remorse either. This event and our marriage was a job, and the sooner I finished it, the better...as long as I ignored the strong jaw and hardened body, I would be fine.
Liar.I was lying to myself, because the truth was, I was in danger of falling into lust. Standing so close to Drakos did things to me. This physical reaction had to be because I was still a virgin. Not to mention that he was a virile man—a man I would be naked with within a few hours. That was the only reason lust fired in my veins, I told myself. There wasn’t any other reason to be attracted to the enemy.
The vows were read by the officiant, and my groom repeated them in a solemn tone, sending a little shiver racing down my back. Then it was my turn. A feather tickled my throat, and I needed to cough. I tried the first sentence, and my voiceshook. Dammit.Dammit!
I sucked in a short breath while the officiant rattled off the second sentence. I opened my mouth and then felt something warm press into my hand.
I froze. The butcher had reached out discreetly and was now holding my fingers, which were wrapped around my bouquet. He nodded his head ever so slightly. My own sign of weakness and his acknowledgment of it pissed me off, and I rattled off, “To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish always. Until death do uspart!” I jerked the bouquet back on the last word.
A smile flashed on his lips. He was looking at me like I was a fucking dessert he was ready to devour. The look was gone a moment later, that hard mask falling back into place.
The minister cleared his throat, and it was then that horror welled inside my gut, because I suddenly realized what I’d done—the officiant hadn’t gotten to that part of the vows yet. But with my statement, he fast-forwarded the ceremony, and I made it through the rest without another mishap.
When the butcher reached out to lift the veil, I didn’t flinch. I glared at him. His guard slipped for a moment, and raw hunger burned in his eyes. My breath caught in my throat. Then he was leaning forward, never breaking eye contact. Those heavy hands brushed over my shoulders, and I swore his touch was going to break me. Grabbing hold of my anger, I held fast to it and braced myself for his kiss. The moment seemed to stretch on for an eternity. Under the weight of that ravenous gaze, his lips met mine. It was a gentle kiss, almost like the brush of a feather.
He pulled back sharply, breaking all physical contact. It was over and done with before I could even blink. The officiant warbled a benediction and then presented us to the crowd. The cathedral erupted in cheers.
The butcher held out his arm, returning to his stiff formality. Touching as little as possible, I grabbed hold of his crisp, black sleeve and fell into step beside him as we retreated down the aisle. Between the heavy skirts of the dress and the precarious hold I had on my elaborate bouquet, I couldn’t move properly. It grated me, but my husband’s presence was steadying and solid. The moment felt strange, but not wholly uncomfortable.
