Cole
Snowy sunlight dusts through ceiling height windows in one of the guest rooms in King Isaac’s castle. I stare at the snowflakes sticking to the frosted window as a woman with mousy brown hair and bright gray eyes adjusts my tuxedo for the eighth time, her small fingers deftly plucking invisible thread from my suit jacket.
“Mom,” I say, then clear my throat. “I’m sure I look fine.”
She glances up at me with glassy eyes before turning from me, walking toward the vanity. She’s wearing a shimmering gray gown and a cape trimmed with white fur, possibly mink. Her braided hair is wrapped in an updo at the base of her neck, and she looks… stunning but lost in her thoughts.
She and Dad never married. Not officially. She never took vows before the Goddess, but I know they were deeply, utterly completely in love.
She lost her mate. I killed her mate, and now she’s preparing me to marry my own mate.
I visited her alone shortly after the Winter Solstice. The reunion had been tense–heartbreaking, honestly. She’d spent months wondering if I was okay. It was almost impossible to get word to her about what was happening. When Lavender was rescued from Tarsian at the beginning of the war, she hadn’t just been carrying a message for Misty, but one for the royal family with my mother and sister’s location, and a plea to help them in the wake of my death.
She’d been thrilled to meet Misty when we moved to Crescent Falls for good, but I know her heart is still in shambles from losing my dad.
She knows I killed him. She knows I had to. I know she forgives me, but still, seeing her broken is gut wrenching.
“Are you ready?” She turns to me, smiling through her tears. “You look very handsome, Cole. You look like your father. I know he’s watching over us right now.”
“I know,” I reply, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “I’m ready.”
She shrugs her narrow shoulders and motions to the door. “The princes mentioned you’d probably need a drink before the ceremony begins. I’m sure they’re waiting in the library for you.”
“Is that where they said they’d be?”
“I believe so,” she chuckles, unsure. “This is my first time in this castle. I’m not sure I even know how to get back downstairs.”
The door opens, revealing my sister, Annabel, in her pale blue gown, her hair expertly curled and falling around her face as she hisses, “What’s the hold up, Cole? The ceremony is supposed to start in ten minutes!”
“Is Misty doing all right?” I ask, checking my watch before following Mom out of the room.
“Morning sickness,” Annabel shrugs. “She’s a bit woozy, but she’s dressed and ready to go.”
The castle is a hot-bed of activity as I follow the women down an upper hallway. We pass the library, and I’m grabbed by the arm, yanked through a crack in the doorway.
Ryan kicks the door closed and shoves me toward the group of men lounging in various positions around the wide room. Three stories of bookshelves stretch to a domed ceiling while snow continues to fall in a bright, shimmering haze beyond the windows.
I glance behind me and notice my mom and sister aren’t here, which is fine, I guess. They’ll join the ranks of the women, while I–
“Drink up.” Ryan thrusts a glass of exceedingly fine whiskey in my hand before turning to the group, which includes Sydney, Evander, Declan, Ryatt, and… Duncan.
I eye Duncan for a moment before sipping my drink then throw it back in one go. He’s deep in conversation with Evander, smiling brightly. He’s a handsome guy but definitely rugged–some kind of specialized mechanic.
He’s my sister’s mate.
I haven’t had a moment to talk to him, not man-to-man. There’s not much I can say to him but thank you, honestly, given that he was there for Annabel when I couldn’t be.
Ryan joins their conversation, motioning me over. “We’ve got about six minutes before my mom tears into the room to tell us we’re late, so finish that drink so we can get a second one in you.”
“Why are you trying to get him drunk before his own wedding?” Ryatt tilts his own drink back, giving Ryan a playful glare.
“You’ve seen the decorations; he hasn’t,” Ryan replies smugly, rolling his eyes back to Evander. “You know what, I consider myself lucky Aviva and I got married in the Deadlands… twice. Mom’s an absolute tyrant when it comes to party planning, and Sarah’s no better.”
“Don’t bring my mate into this,” Sydney laughs.
Ryan arches his brows. “I’m right, though. Your house is an explosion of pink taffeta, and you know it.”
Evander sighs heavily and pours another dram of whiskey in my glass. “Anyway,” he says, shooting daggers around the room.
“Anyway,” Ryan drawls, looking at Duncan, “my offer stands. We could use someone like you in Silverhide if you and Annabel decide you want a change of scenery.”
I don’t have a single sec to process this–the idea of Annabel moving back to Eastonia–because Maddy bursts into the room with a snarl, “What the hell are you all doing up here still?”
“That’s our cue,” Sydney murmurs into his drink, rising and clapping me on the back.
I’m bustled out of the room and downstairs, looking around the gathered crowd for my mate, but all I see are mostly unfamiliar faces. The friends and extended family of the Alpha King of Crescent Falls and his Luna Queen crowd the ballroom, which has in fact been decorated in a… wintery type of pink, if that's a thing.
I smile despite the nerves skittering through my body as Ryan and Sydney escort me to the altar–an archway of pink and white. This whole wedding is for Maddy, honestly. Misty and I would have been fine going to the temple and having a quick ceremony without frills and fanfare, like Sydney and Sarah, but at least one of the siblings needed to have a real wedding.
The High Priestess is already waiting for me. She smiles curtly and sighs as Ryan and Sydney take their positions in the crowd.
We don’t have groomsmen or bridesmaids. Misty didn’t think it was necessary, but I also know she’s not feeling great right now. Her pregnancy symptoms kicked in a few weeks ago and haven’t let up.
I spot my mom and sister in the assembled crowd, standing beside Duncan, who leans down to whisper in Annabel’s ear. She blushes brightly and swats his chest.
I feel my mouth tick into a smile at the sight.
We’re fine. Everyone is fine. We made it out.
I keep telling myself every day to keep the memories of last year, of the war, at bay.
The crowd parts, and my mate comes into view. My heart stops as she’s escorted by her father–dressed in his full regalia–down the aisle.
She’s wearing a pearly white gown that drapes over her figure–silk, or satin–which shimmers in the chandelier light. Her veil is lace and trimmed with bubble-gum pink accents–flowers, I think, as she gets closer, and closer.
The rest of the room fades, and it’s just me and her, standing before the priestess.
I barely register the vows. My eyes are locked with Misty’s, and I remember the moment I saw her for the first time, in the street, just a day before all hell broke loose.
I never thought we’d make it to this point.
That shock echoes through me as I slip a new ring on her finger. A plain golden band that matches the setting of her engagement ring. I had it engraved with a date. The date of our first kiss, actually, beneath the campus in the tunnels. I’m not sure why I felt it was so important that we remember that moment given what happened shortly thereafter, but for me… it changed everything. It changed the reasons I was fighting against Richard.
I would have given up had it not been for her, and when I kissed her for the first time, I knew… she was mine.
I’m not sure the ceremony’s even over when I lean down, cupping the back of her head and kissing her like I kissed her that night–fully, ravenously.
She rises on her toes and smiles around the kiss as people whoop and holler for us.
My mate. My wife.
* * *
“It was lovely. Just beautiful!” Lavender gushes to Maddy as Misty and I make our rounds during the reception.
We’re both starving, but we haven’t had a single second to ourselves since the reception started. The crowd ebbs and flows in conversation, which is broken up by multiple rounds of toasts to the happy couple, all while Misty and I are looking for an out.
Night has fallen. Misty eyes the dessert table as we pass, dropping into conversation with some of her distant relatives from a pack called Obsidian Temple, but then a woman beckons us toward the entrance of the ballroom.
It’s Cosette, who works for Sydney and Sarah, running their house, and their lives, I’ve been told.
“Here,” she whispers briskly, shoving a trio of stacked plates wrapped in tinfoil into my hands. “Take her upstairs to the Opal Room on the fourth floor. It’s already set up for you both.”
“Cosette,” Misty laughs, “People will know we’re gone!”
“No one will even notice, not after the amount of champagne that’s been shelled out this evening. Go! Eat something and enjoy some peace and quiet, please.”
She motions us away, and we obey, sharing feelings of relief as we jog up the grand staircase and disappear into the depths of the second, then third, and finally, the fourth floor.
The Opal Room is aptly named. Everything is a soft white. A few candles have been lit, but otherwise, the room is dim and warm as I set the plates on a small table in the back of the room and turn to my wife, who’s staring at me in awe and excitement.
“We got married!”
“I know,” I breathe, chuckling in disbelief. “Now what are we supposed to do?”
“I have no idea,” she admits, laughing. She discarded her veil a while ago. Her hair falls loose over her shoulders, and her face is slightly flushed from the excitement of the day. “Will you help me out of my dress?”
I nod, and she gives me her back. My fingers brush over her skin as I unzip the fabric, a jolt of need coursing through my veins.
In nothing but a white shift, she walks to the far side of the room, near the ensuite bathroom, and shrugs into a satin robe before turning to face me again.
My feet move on their own accord. I grab her, pulling her against my chest, and kiss her like it’s our last time, like the world is ending tomorrow.
I wonder if I’ll always feel like this. Like I’ll lose her if I so much as blink, but when I open my eyes again, she’s still here, wearing her wedding ring on her slim finger as she unbuttons my shirt.
I’ve never considered myself a religious man. I like tangible things–things that make sense, that have an explanation… but I can’t put into words what this woman means to me. I’d die for her. I did, actually.
I’ve gone to the temple almost every day to pray to the Goddess in thanks for giving me the opportunity to live a life with Misty–to have a future.
I toss Misty on the bed, thankful I had the wherewithal to lock the door behind us.
I plan to worship her body tonight. And tomorrow night… And every night after that because we have that time now. We have years… decades ahead of us.
“I love you, Cole,” she whispers, wrapping her legs around my waist while I bunch the fabric of her shift up her thighs.
I steal the words with a kiss.