Wicked Matrimony (Legends and Lovers)

She hands me my bouquet of roses, bound with a white satin ribbon. “You look worried.”

I inhale and let it out slowly. “I’ll be fine.” I follow her out the door, ready to meet my maker.

I grab the bottom of my long white dress, holding it up, so I can take each step down the grand staircase slowly. Lina walks in front of me, looking like a goddess in an auburn dress to match her auburn hair. She appears pleased with the wedding, however, I’m sure there’ll be many people who won’t be happy. My mind wanders to Draven’s girlfriend. Will she be here?

I haven’t seen Draven since the night he eavesdropped on mine and Simon’s conversation. I’m also nervous to see him as well.

I follow Lina through the halls of her castle, hearing the cacophony of laughter in the distance grow louder with each step we take.

“How many people are here?” I ask, wide-eyed.

She glances at me from over her shoulder, her thin eyebrows arched high. “A few hundred.”

I visibly shake at her answer, and she stops walking.

“You’ll be fine, dear,” she soothes.

We round a corner, and Simon stands there in a slim-fitting black tuxedo, smiling at me. I breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of him.

“Ready?” he asks. “I’ll be giving you away.”

I laugh a little. “Seems appropriate.”

The doors to the outside garden are closed, and butterflies dance in my belly at what’s awaiting me on the other side.

I loop my arm with Simon’s and Lina opens the door, walking along a runway of blood-red fabric.

I get my first glance at the outside transformation and am speechless at the huge production to keep me safe. If I’d ever fantasized about a wedding, this is exactly what I’d want. Elegant. Sophisticated. Grand.

It’s like something out of a fairy tale.

The orchestra off to the right of the garden plays “Canon in D,” and we step onto the scarlet fabric.

Twinkling lights dance high above us, illuminating the smiling, curious faces staring at me. Lina said a few hundred people, but as I glance out at the linen-covered chairs lined on both sides of the garden, I realize there must be close to five-hundred guests.

I inhale the soft fragrance of the rose bushes as we make our way down the wide path. All the music, lights, and people fade away when I spot Draven waiting for me at the end of the aisle.

I swallow.

His eyes home in on me, a slight smile curving his delicious lips, and my lungs seize. Draven’s all in black, except a red rose blooming in his lapel, looking like the night sky eclipsing the light of my white dress. Purity and evil. Savior and sin.

“You look stunning,” he says in my mind.

I wish I could speak back to him, for only him to hear. I’d tell him all of this is too much for just me. That he looks stunning too. That everywhere I look, all I see is him.

I try to push the thoughts away as I step closer to Draven, unable to look anywhere but at him. He’s so captivating.

His eyes burn into mine as we reach the dais and Simon releases me to him. Arthur, obviously the officiant, joins our hands together. Draven engulfs my tiny hands in his, and silence falls over the garden. Arthur begins the ceremony, and I stare into Draven’s eyes like I’m in love, yet all I can think about is how intoxicating he smells.

Like a forbidden forest. One I should avoid, lest I never come out the same.

We pass over the vows quickly, and I try to calm my rapid heart.

“You’re doing great,” Draven says to only me. “Breathe.”

I inhale a cleansing breath. I feel calmer, as if he put some sort of spell over me. Is this another power? Or does he just have an ability to soothe my nervous temperament?

There is no time to think about it, because we’re being pronounced as husband and wife.