Dark Vow (Blackwoods College)

I moaned his name as he growled mine. I turned when he was done and he held me in the water, letting the steam rise in billows. He kissed me softly and brushed my hair back.

Then, to my utter and total surprise, he began to wash my body.

Wordless. Gentle. Loving. He cleaned me like he worshiped me. Every inch, from my toes to my hair. He lavished me with attention, whispering soft words of praise for my skin, my curve, my figure, everything. When he was done, I felt pampered, dizzy with comfort. He turned off the water, wrapped me in warm, fluffy towels, and deposited me in bed.

He lingered, kissing my lips.

“We’re getting married later,” he whispered. “You have to get ready.”

“Will it be bad?”

“No, love. It won’t.”

“Then I’m looking forward to it.”

He laughed, kissed me again. “I doubt that very much.”

He left quietly. I stayed in bed, wrapped in blankets and towels, for a long time.

19

Calvin

My father sat next to my mother on white folding chairs beneath a crisp white tent. He wore black, and she wore gray, and neither of them smiled.

Behind them, my brothers glared like they’d rather slice my throat open than watch me get married.

Raymond in particular. He was held together with gauze and morphine. Noah had to keep jabbing him in the side to keep him from nodding off. The pair looked like hell, and it still wasn’t enough.

They hurt her. That meant I’d revisit all that pain on them tenfold.

We were out in the garden behind the manor. The smell of flowers was thick in the air. The wind was cold, though the staff set up heaters. The trees hung with long, naked branches, casting shadows across the partially frozen grass. It was an odd time of year for an outdoor wedding.

The priest looked uncomfortable. I’d never seen him before, and I guessed my father bribed him to show up, say a few words, and give this farce a semblance of respectability, though I didn’t know why he bothered. The only people watching were my parents, my brothers, several staff members, a few guards, and Matthias. There was no need for all this, but my father insisted.

He was old school that way. My preference was to sign a piece of paper and take Robyn as my prize, but if this was what he wanted, then this was what we’d do.

It was for him, after all.

All this theater was for his benefit.

I adjusted myself and half turned to Matthias. He stood next to me at the altar as my best man. Robyn had nobody on her side. I felt bad about that—I was sure she’d like to have Cora there, and a part of me wished I could’ve invited Jarrod and Des and Addler, but those two worlds had to be kept separate.

“She’s late,” I said, frowning at my assistant.

“She’s on her way. I checked in.”

“What’s taking her so long? I don’t know how long my mother can keep herself from drinking. It’s been five minutes already.”

“I’d worry more about Raymond nodding off and never waking up again.”

“If only I could be so lucky.”

The priest looked scandalized and I winked at him.

At the far end of the tent, the flaps pushed back. Martha stepped inside, positively beaming. She looked around and clapped her hands. Everyone looked back as she gestured, and Robyn stepped through.

The “Wedding March” played over loudspeakers, but I barely heard it. I stared, my mouth hanging open, as Robyn walked toward me. She glowed, floated, shone. She wore all white, a slip of a dress that clung to her body and shimmered in the weak winter light. She had diamonds in her hair and a heavy fur shawl around her shoulders. Her lips were red and her eyes were a bright, startling green. She always looked beautiful, but in this moment, coming toward me with that angry smile on her lips in that damn wedding dress, she looked transcendent.

My father must’ve seen it too. His eyebrows knitted down, his lips tugged into a frown.

Martha escorted Robyn to her position, kissed my future wife’s cheek, grinned at me, and took a seat behind my brothers. Everyone sat as the priest raised his hands for silence.

“You look incredible,” I whispered as the priest began to do his thing.

“Thanks. You can thank Martha for that.”

“I will.”

The priest glared daggers and cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind?”

I waved a hand in the air. “Skip the bullshit, father. We’re here for a pronouncement and a kiss.”

The priest looked scandalized and turned to my father, but my old man only nodded once. “Listen to the boy.”

“Sacrilege,” the priest said, shaking his head, but he flipped ahead and cleared his throat. “Now, we exchange rings. Calvin, will you place yours on Robyn’s finger and repeat after me?”