The Luna's Bodyguard [a mature werewolf romance]

Ch 45: The Blushing Bride

OPHELIA
🌶️

My heart was trying to launch itself into deep space.

Blow after blow pounded against my chest, the force of each beat threatening to pop my veins. I shot upright with a gasp, clutching at the blood-slick ground, blinded by the light —

— of the gently flickering sconces in the throne room. I gasped, struggling to orient myself as what I thought was blood turned to silk in my hands, a pearly white substance that pooled around my legs.

Then I realised there were rings on my fingers. Glitter on the back of my arms. I was fully healed, and it seemed they'd used a shot of adrenaline to wake me back up, if the needle being tucked away in somebody's utility belt was any indication.

I raised a hand to block out the glare, following two threads of power to their source: at the head of the chamber.

Ignatius was dressed for ceremony, cutting a devastating figure in a royal amethyst surcoat. He looked every inch the cruel prince, but his gaze was drenched with worry. His sandy hair was gelled back, accentuating the harsher lines of his face and the bruises beneath his eyes.

Actually, one of those lines was harsher than the others. And there was a cut in his bottom lip that had yet to close. The wounds were fresh, which meant...

I felt a stab of concern as Nate took a step towards me, only for an enormous hand to come down on his shoulder.

Fallon shook his head slightly, a wordless apology in his mind. I glanced behind him to the guards lining the walls — each with their sword drawn, the tip pointing directly at my heart.

"What's going on?" I asked, climbing to my feet. Atrociously spindly feels made it a wobbly attempt, and I blushed at how ridiculous I felt in front of these people, throwing out my arms for balance.

The Crown Alpha chuckled, drawing my attention to the throne, where he was cleaning the blood off his knuckles with a handkerchief. "Why, you're getting married, of course."

The floor threatened to open beneath my feet. "Right now?"

"I won't delay any longer," Reginald said. "My men reported your little escapade to your birth town. Trying to raise an army, no doubt." Chapped lips split back from a too-white grin. "How did it feel to find nothing but charred bones?"

"Fuck you." The words were crude. Reflexive. I was still reeling from the whole marriage thing.

"Which brings us to this moment. You will bind yourself to my son right this moment. Not just with rings, but with blood."

Jesus. "In front of all these people?" I asked, my voice rising with incredulity. "You have to be joking."

"I'm deadly serious," Reginald said.

I could see that he was. I could see it in the minds of my mates: Reginald had already beaten Nate once for trying to disobey him on this matter. Within an inch of his life, if Fallon's memory served.

He'd been beaten, too. For trying to intervene.

I locked eyes with the Pendragon prince.

You don't have to do this, Nate snarled in my mind. I'll kill the King. Or I'll die trying.

The King, not my father. Nate really meant it.

To my surprise, a deep voice latched itself onto our thoughts. Don't be fucking stupid, Fallon sent. Those aren't my men lined up around us. One wrong move and you'll both be slaughtered.

Cold steel nicked the small of my back. I started, glancing over my shoulder at the guard who'd advanced.

"Move," he barked.

A growl slipped from Fallon's throat, but there was nothing he could do. So I did as I was told, not just to save myself, but the men who were itching to intervene. I moved one shaky step at a time, up the dais to the altar, escorted by an over eager foot soldier instead of somebody who'd loved me and raised me. When I reached the top, I was grateful to squeeze Nate's hands, to be steadied by the looming presence of the two men who mattered most in my life.

I want this, I reassured them both, surprised by how much I meant it. Maybe I've lost my fucking mind, but I'm head over heels for you both. Yes, this marriage is happening a little sooner than I would have planned, but we were always going to wind up here. We're endgame, Nate.

Hope kindled in Nate's soul, even as it was crushed in Fallon's.

"We're ready for the vows," Nate said, not once looking away from my face.

Reginald made a derisive noise in the back of his throat. "Don't waste my time with those banal pleasantries. I demand that you be tied in holy matrimony, and so it shall be. Now seal the pact."

Nate's nose brushed mine. Somehow that tiny touch feathered all the way down to my toes, making them curl in my stupidly sparkly shoes.

Then his lips were moulding to mine, gentle but firm, sweet but savoury. I started to part my lips on instinct, intent on deepening the kiss, but the King cleared his throat with impatience.

"That isn't what I meant," he snapped.

Right: the blood pact.

Nate pulled away — just enough to pepper gentle kisses along my my jawline, down the arch of my throat. When he arrived at the steady flutter of my pulse his lips drew back from his teeth, canines lengthening.

The motion drew me into the crook of his neck. I breathed in the intoxicatingly amber scent of him and suckled gently, preparing to bite down.

Dark eyes met mine over the prince's shoulder. They were full of agony and regret.

And then Nate's fangs were punching down, and he was pulling on everything that I was. I claimed him in turn, severing flesh and sucking him deep, the polish on my painstakingly painted nails splintering as claws erupted from my nail-beds, digging into his shoulders.

Mine, we snarled as one.

When he finally pulled pulled away, ruby glistening on his bottom lip, it wasn't just a Pendragon staring down at me, somehow lounging whilst standing with that feral grace.

It was my mate.