Micah waited at the front of the makeshift aisle in Bain’s parlor. A long white carpet stretched from the doors in the back of the room to where he stood. Elegant, tall-backed chairs covered with royal blue slipcovers were arranged on either side, and large hand-painted vases filled with massive blue-and-white bouquets stood on pedestals all around the room. And ribbons. Ribbons hung everywhere.
He’d seen enough weddings in movies to know what to expect, but he’d never actually been to a wedding. Maybe, like everything else, Hollywood made weddings out to be more than they were, which meant he shouldn’t drop any lines like “You complete me,” or “You love me because I’m a scoundrel.” Okay, so technically those lines hadn’t come from wedding scenes, and in Star Wars, Han Solo used the word like instead of love, but the point was that he should refrain from improvising.
Was it normal for him to be so antsy? What was that saying? Cold feet? He’d never given it much thought, but maybe this impatient excitement was what “cold feet” meant.
He couldn’t wait for Sam to walk down the aisle. For him to become her husband—her mate—according to the traditions she’d grown up with. In his eagerness, he kept shifting from foot to foot. So . . . cold feet. It made sense.
Trace stood behind him, fidgeting like he was covered by an itchy rash. The hormonal heat coming off him was enough to make Micah grind his teeth.
Then the music started.
“Everybody stand,” Cara whispered loudly, gesturing for all the guests to rise.
From what Micah had read online, the guests weren’t supposed to stand until the bride walked down the aisle. Too late now. Everyone was already rising from their seats, turning to watch Josie and Cordray stroll down the aisle, holding round bouquets in various shades of blue and white.
Severin and Ari stood together, and while they looked to have mostly patched things up, an air of tension still hung over them.
Micah hadn’t meant to get between them. He’d simply been feeling Ari out, testing whether the restlessness he’d sensed and seen in Ari’s thoughts could be put to use. As far as Ari was concerned, he was on board, but Severin wasn’t quite sold.
A startled murmur rustled through the guests, followed by soft laughter. Micah took a step forward and grinned like a proud papa when he saw what had grabbed everyone’s attention.
Aiden was making her way down the aisle, putting on quite the show as only a magical fairy could. Glittering from head to toe, she wore a huge smile, twirling and dancing her way up the white carpet, gently scattering rose petals like she was a flower fairy and no petal should fall too roughly upon the floor, lest she fail at her duties.
Everyone pulled out their phones, cameras recording. He would have to get copies of some of those videos.
He hoped his own daughter would be just as precious at Aiden’s age.
Aiden reached the front of the aisle, spinning around and around until she got dizzy and listed to the side. Cordray caught her just as she was about to butt-plant on the floor and guided her to stand beside her.
Micah was still chuckling at her when a loud, childlike roar erupted from the back of the room.
He swung his gaze around to find Null with his hands up, his fingers curled to look like claws. The toddler roared again, then took a few steps, stopped, lifted his hands again, let out another roar, and continued the pattern as he made his way up the aisle. Walk, stop, roar. Walk, stop, roar. The small white pillow, with the rings tied to the satin cushion with silk ribbons, was tucked under his arm. He took a few more steps and roared again.
Micah leaned toward Trace and whispered, “What’s he doing?”
Trace shrugged like it should be obvious. “He’s the ring bear, so I told him to be the best bear he could be.”
Micah forced himself not to laugh. “Bearer,” he whispered. “He’s supposed to be the ring bearer.”
Trace frowned. “What the hell’s a ring bearer?”
Micah shook his head. “He’s responsible for carrying the rings. He bears the rings.” Even Micah knew that.
“Well, shit, man, I have no clue about all this human mating stuff.” Trace shifted his weight and adjusted himself inside his suit. “Jesus, this needs to get over soon.” He tossed a heated glance in Cordray’s direction. “If it doesn’t, my dick might decide to crash the party.”
Micah groaned and bent his neck forward as Null roared one last time as he stopped in front of him. He abruptly yanked the pillow out from under his arm. The ribbon securing Sam’s ring untied, sending the round band of precious metal flying across the room.
Cordray jumped to action, chased after it as it rolled onto the polished parquet floor, retrieved it, and hustled back.
Null’s face flushed. “Sowwy.”
“It’s okay,” Cordray whispered, adjusting the pillow in his hands and refastening Sam’s ring to the ribbon.
Micah pinched the bridge of his nose and tried not to feel like the night was caving in around him. He felt like he was messing up the whole day. Would Sam be pissed at him for all the theatrics? For the glittering fairy princess, roaring ring bears, and making a sex-starved male in his calling his best man?
Now that he thought about it, the day was turning into a disaster. A total disas—
He caught a flash of white out of the corner of his eye.
Like he’d zeroed in on a homing beacon calling only to him, his gaze swung around just as Sam came around the corner on her father’s arm.
Dear God, she was—
“Wow,” Trace murmured.
Micah didn’t see the dirty look Cordray flashed Trace, but he felt it. He also felt the smoldering affection Trace shot back at her, as well as a fresh surge of hormones that clouded around him like nitrous oxide.
“Jesus, will you two cool it,” he whispered over his shoulder as the wedding march started.
“Sorry.” Trace cleared his throat and shifted from foot to foot.
No doubt, the moment the officiant King Bain had hired declared them husband and wife, Trace would have Cordray in a back hallway somewhere, or on her back somewhere, as the case may be.
As Sam approached, she wore a smile brighter than the sun. She was more beautiful than the day he first laid eyes on her, when he’d been lying on the oil-stained concrete floor in that parking garage, barely clinging to life after Apostle and his friends had beaten him within an inch of death. She had blasted in like an archangel, wings outstretched, heavenly sword slashing the air, chasing them away before she landed beside him, smelling of lilacs and pure love.
She’d saved him that night. And he’d saved her. They’d saved each other. And tonight was the culmination of their mutual salvation.
The luminous, golden light of the ballroom hit her in such a way that he was reminded of how she’d looked that night in the parking garage. Radiant. Beautiful. Heart-stealing perfect with a halo of gold crowning her.
Her gaze locked to his, and step by step, she closed the space between them.
When he took her hand from her father’s and curled her arm around his as she stepped up beside him, nothing else mattered. Not the glitter fairy, not the roaring bear, not her wedding band flying across the room, not Trace’s calling. Only her. His Sam. This moment—this night—was for her.
She smiled at him, oblivious to everything that had gone down in the last two minutes.
“I’ve never seen you in a tux,” she whispered.
“How do I look?”
Her gaze dragged hungrily down the front of him. “Good enough to eat.”
He winked at her. “We’ll get to that later.”
Then her eyebrows crinkled as she examined his sleeves. “Micah, why are you covered in glitter?” She gave him a sexy smirk, then added, “Do you have a secret Twilight fantasy I’m not aware of? A fetish perhaps? Should I be worried about finding sparkling skin under your tux later?”
He glanced down at his tux, then smiled up at her. “Funny, female.”
She fought back a giggle. “I thought it was.”
The officiant cleared his throat, and they fell silent, although sexy, secret looks continued to pass between them.
When the officiant asked who was there to give her away, her father replied from behind them with the requisite, “I am,” and then took a seat beside her mother in the front row.
Only their closest friends and family were in attendance. Micah had even broken down and invited Argon and Rysk, although Argon preferred to be called Digon now. Something to do with shedding his old life and becoming someone new. Someone wiser. Apparently, according to the ancient dreck language, Digon meant reborn or some shit. Whatever, if Argon wanted to be called Digon, Micah would call him Digon. It didn’t change the fact that he’d been the first dreck premier and was, in fact, part of Micah’s bloodline.
The officiant led them through their vows, just like Micah had seen in the movies and in the online videos he’d watched to prepare for the day. They each said their appropriate I do’s, exchanged rings, and vowed to love, honor, and cherish each other until death do they part.
Very human.
Very odd.
But he could feel how happy Sam was and hear the elated thoughts dancing through her mind, so the oddness was more than worth it.
“You may kiss your bride.”
Oh yeah, baby, this was what he’d been waiting for.
He pulled Sam to him. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Then his lips found hers. Home. Kissing her always felt like home.
His hand held her cheek, and he explored her lips with his in a sweet caress. In a way, it felt like he was kissing her for the first time. Maybe, in a way, he was.
“You’re really mine now, so no more sass-talking me for calling you Mrs. Black,” he whispered against her mouth as their friends and family applauded.
He wasn’t sure if applauding was proper etiquette, but he didn’t care. His Sam was in his arms, and she was the most beautiful, most precious creature in the world.
“You can call me Mrs. Black anytime you want,” she whispered back. “And I’ve always been yours.”
“Always?”
She nodded. “I was born for you.”
He liked the sound of that. “As I was born for you.” He brushed his lips over hers, then left a short trail of kisses to her ear. “We did this your way, but later tonight, we do it mine. I want you—body, heart, and soul—my way now.”
“I’m already yours, body, heart, and soul.”
“I want to make it official.” He drew back, searched her angelic face, then took her hand and turned to face the room, presenting his mate, his wife, and the mother of his children to the world.
He felt like a king. Her king. And she was his queen. Together, they were their own royal family, ready to rule their world.
Nothing could stop him now.
Absolutely nothing.