“I can’t wait to feast during the dinner reception,” he whispered in my ear as he cupped me through my towel.
I choked.
Yet again his expression turned sinful, and he backed me toward the bed.
“Scorpius, you better not be fucking in there, you know the rules!” Corvus bellowed as he banged against the door.
“Come on, man!” John shouted from outside. “It’s not fair, we all aren’t allowed to see her.”
Scorpius nodded and looked grave as he picked me up and took me on the bed.
“Be very quiet,” he whispered in my ear. “You don’t want to break the rules.”
Then he put one hand over my mouth and another around my throat as he proceeded to set a brutal pace. Stars exploded in my vision as I convulsed underneath him, but he refused to relent.
“So fucking perfect,” he whispered as I swallowed my moans.
When Corvus threatened to burn down the door, Scorpius came inside me. When he was done shuddering with pleasure, he ordered me to lie still and grabbed the crystal initialed thong I had laid out for the wedding.
He pulled it up and over my legs, then patted where he was still spilling out of me. “I want you to feel me as you walk down the aisle,” he said gravely. “I want you to remember who you belong to.”
“Yes, sir!” I saluted him mockingly, and he groaned as he clutched himself.
“I need to go before I ruin you for our wedding,” he said, then he stalked out of the room.
There were loud shouts and smacking as the rest of my mates attacked him.
I rolled my eyes at their antics.
A pang twisted my heart.
Last night was the first night in months that I hadn’t slept beside all of them. The nightmares had been the worst sort—memories. I’d woken up heaving in the dark, patting at my arms.
I shivered as I remembered the feeling of being lit on fire for hours.
Eleven, twenty-two, thirty-three, forty-four, fifty-five. The repetition calmed me down.
I was secretly grateful Scorpius had broken the rules.
Already, the tense, achy feeling in my joints from a sleepless night was receding.
Meandering around the room, I picked up the thousand-year-old engraved, enchanted wood champagne bottle Corvus had gifted to me.
The wood reminded me of my pipe. I’d discarded it in a drawer forever ago.
There was a time where I smoked every minute of every day.
It had been my crutch for so many awful months.
When I thought about the pipe, I thought about the infected screaming in my face as I gutted them, chasing monsters down dark mazelike corridors, convinced I’d never find my way out.
Never again.
When I’d first put the pipe away, the compulsion to smoke had made my tongue itch for days. I’d suffered night sweats and choked at random times.
But I hadn’t given in to the urges.
Now months had passed, and the cravings were gone.
Never again, I repeated. The lungs held memory, and if the pipe was between my lips, then I wasn’t living in the present; I’d be trapped by my past, coping in desperate ways.
It had served its purpose, and I’d survived.
It was time to move forward.
I popped the top off the champagne, brought the bottle to my lips, and chugged the sweet, bubbly liquid.
I’d stick to imbibing heavily on special occasions.
Instantly, the world mellowed.
A whispering melody started to play. I stared down at the enchanted bottle in awe and chugged some more.
The music was rich and melodious.
I felt like I was flying.
All worry drifted away, and I fingered the outfit I’d had custom designed for today.
Everything’s going to be all right.
Hours later, I walked down a makeshift flower aisle that led to the pond on the estate.
The sun was setting and cast the cloudless sky in streaks of gorgeous pink.
It was a deliciously warm day with a slight breeze, but snow flurried overhead and drifted around us magically. I tipped my head back and smiled as I unleashed my powers.
It coated the grass in sparkling white.
My blue curls supported a crystal tiara and hung loose around my face. A gossamer white silk dress was draped across my shoulders, and it floated around me in an iridescent sheath of fabric.
In the dress, I felt like I was a fluffy cloud on a summer day.
My makeup was subtle but pretty.
Pink gloss shone on my lips and matched the pink on my nails.
I’d covered up the scar on my cheek, and my skin glowed tan from the sun. Vanilla-scented oil covered every inch of my body, and I smelled delicious.
My favorite part—cobalt ice covered my hands and crawled up to my elbows, creating the illusion of elegant gloves. Ice also wrapped around my skull-tattooed throat like a choker.