Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Page Thirteen. Burn bright, my fire.
“ W here did you get this dress from?” I ask my mother as I stare in the mirror, completely lost in the gorgeous dress. I never liked dresses with colour, because they reminded me of the slavery I grew up in, but this dress is pure white. It looks like a cloud, and it is as soft as one. I might never be as pure as this colour, but it is fitting for today. For Ziven and me, and the new start to our life that begins from this day. We want forever, and I thought my wedding day would be simple. I don’t need a dress, or anything fancy, I just need Ziven. I only want him. But, this dress is unmistakably the prettiest thing I’ve seen in a long time. I was surprised by all the planning Ziven has been doing behind my back to get this wedding ready today, and he has been conspiring with my mother. I can’t tell anyone how happy it makes me feel to see them both getting along so well.
She smiles at me, touching my cheek. “I made it and it mirrors the same one I wore to my own wedding. Admittedly, it is better. It took a long time, years, but being a seamstress was always how I put a bit of extra money away, even back in the breeder camp.” She touches the soft fabric, and I admire it right along with her. She spent the last hour making adjustments to my size and fixing loose ends, and I thanked her a million times, even when she said to stop.
It’s beautiful—white, with layers and layers of delicate fabric, held together with a bodice in the middle that pushes up my chest and is laced at the back. The dress falls to my feet, moving with me, and my shoulders are bare. I know my mother has seen some of the vampyre scars I have when I got changed, but she did nothing but tell me how brave I am. It was healing; some deep part of me needed my mother to look at me with nothing but love, no matter how broken I might be. I don’t think of myself as broken anymore. No, I’m healed now, but the scars are not forgotten. They are there, like cracks smoothed over in a vase, noticeable, but no one really cares unless they stare close. Only those I love will see I was ever broken. It’s how I want that to be.
My hair is tied up in a complicated braid bun, thanks to Avaluna’s expertise in braiding, with a few strands curling around my face. “I didn’t know why I started making it,” she continues. “This fabric…it’s woven from spiders’ cobwebs from deep within the caves. It cost a fortune to get even a small amount of it, as it takes days for them to find the webs. But I worked, I did odd jobs because I wanted to make this dress. I didn’t know you were alive, but something told me to make it, just in case. I never thought I’d be lucky enough to be standing here on your wedding day, watching you marry a man you are so in love with, who loves you just as much.” She pauses with tears in her eyes. “I never told you much about your father. He desperately wanted a better world for you. That was all he fought for—for you, for me, for his family. Being powerborn, oh, he hated his life before we met. We both did in our own way, but he needed a reason to fight, a reason to live. He said it was me, and then he saw you, and that was it. He had two reasons. The day you were born, the moment I first saw you, is not something I’ll ever forget, and I vowed to the deities that I would not ever leave you. I know it was the same for him, even when he left this world. I know he never…” She trails off, then shakes her head. “This is your day. My beautiful daughter, becoming a queen, and I wanted to share something your father used to say about us.”
I wait. “That fire lurks in our souls, shines as bright as our hair, and one day it will burn this world anew.” Her smile is so bright. “Burn this world anew, my daughter. A queen. A woman who never let this world dull her fire.”
“I love you, mum,” I whisper through sobs. “And I wish my father got to see this day…I wish I knew him.”
“I love you too. No tears, though.” She wipes my cheeks. My tears have already fallen, and she brushes them away. “I will tell you a thousand stories about your father. One day, stories are all we have left of those we love. We cling to them and share them. It keeps them alive.”
“Then tell me a thousand of him. Of you both.” I hug her tightly. “Thank you for always fighting for me. You taught me how to fight, even on your worst days. I am blessed to have you.” She cries in my arms and I cry with her, knowing we needed this moment to connect. I hear music playing from outside, a melodic sound, and it’s loud. “I think that’s our cue.”
“May I have a moment before you go?” Daegan is standing in the doorway alongside Catherine. “You look very nice, Story. I’m sure you want to throw me out, but I promise I’ll only take a minute of today from you and Ziven.”
“Leave us, it’s okay,” I gently tell them both.
“We’ll wait outside,” Catherine suggests as Daegan steps in and Catherine holds the door until my mum has stepped out. I wipe my wet cheeks with the back of my hands as Daegan awkwardly stares at me.
He steps closer. “I wanted…”
“If you have anything bad to say, please don’t,” I cut in. “Please don’t, Daegan. This is the happiest day of my life, and I don’t want it tainted with anything bad, like us arguing. If you’re here as my ex, wanting me to choose another path, then I’ll personally kick your royal ass off the nearest cliff. I choose him in this lifetime, in every lifetime I am blessed to live.”
“This is for you.” He hands me a small silver box with a long breath. “Before, when royals got married, they would accept tokens from older families. It was said that if you got married without a token, it was a sign of bad luck against your entire marriage and you wouldn’t be blessed with children. Ziven doesn’t have any family to give him a token, other than Hettie, and she’s too young to understand this.” He continues to hold out the box. “I will never, in any of my lifetimes, make up for anything I did. But I want to bless your marriage going forward. If you think that means nothing, then you can leave it here. But for my parents, who would have given Ziven something, for Ziven’s parents, who definitely would have blessed him with something too…take it. Please.”
I wordlessly take the box. I wasn’t expecting any of that from him. “Why?”
“This bond between us is only a fraction of what you have with Ziven, but I cherish it because you remind me to feel. To not dip into the darkness and lose myself there. I used the bond between you and me, and I lost anything we could have had. There isn’t a day that passes that I don’t wish I hadn’t. But I did and there will not be a day in my life that I do not try to be better. I’m sorry, and that is why.” He exhales slowly. “Enjoy your wedding, Story. The girl who reads, the girl who was broken and used, is becoming a fierce queen. The books you love will be written about you. They will write your story to inspire millions long after we have all left this world. I just don’t want to be remembered as a villain.”
“Thank you,” I tell him softly. I think this is the first time I’m seeing the real Daegan. “I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t done what you did. I might never be able to forgive you for all of it, but we were bound together in a way I’ll probably never understand. But for what it’s worth, I accept your gift, your token.” He walks to the door. “Please, do come to the wedding. You are invited. You are our guest.”
He nods his head. I catch a glimpse of a smile on his face before he slips out the door. I open the box, finding a bracelet inside—pure diamonds all the way around in a circle. Each one of them is shaped like a sun and a moon, side by side, as one. I clip it onto my wrist, sliding it so it fits perfectly, before looking at my reflection in the mirror just once. Peace. It’s a token of peace and it matches my dress too. I don’t spend another moment in my mother’s hut, because he is waiting for me. My king, my mate and my future. Outside, the lights are everywhere, above every house, twinkling like stars. As I get closer, I realise they’re moons, crafted out of glowing green fabric, but so bright they almost look white.
Mum walks on one side of me, Catherine on the other as we go down a path marked on the ground with petals. They sway against the bottom of my dress, and I can barely keep from crying more when we move toward the centre of town, where a large platform has been built with five archways forming a circle. The arches are covered in beautiful, vibrant blue flowers, and in the centre stands Ziven. The love of my life. So many people are gathered all around the arch, and Hettie is the only one standing on the platform under one of the arches. She smiles at me so widely, and my mother finally lets me go, glancing at me once before staying behind with Catherine.
I touch Hettie’s hand as I walk past, squeezing her fingers for just a second before stepping forward to Ziven, who waits in the centre of the circle.
He’s wearing a white shirt tucked into his rider trousers—clean, but the best he can do when clothes are rare here. But none of it matters when his eyes lock onto mine. His gaze travels slowly down my dress and back up, heat spilling through my body at the intensity of his stare. His eyes flicker to the bracelet for a second, but he says nothing. I step into the circle of flowers on the ground with him. He leans in slightly. “I cannot wait to get that dress off you, but you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I thought I saw the most beautiful woman yesterday when you woke up and smiled at me, but every day, you beat yourself in my eyes.”
“Charmer.” I blush under his stare, under the pressure of his gaze, and I know that will never change for us. “You’re going to have to tell me what to do,” I whisper, feeling nervous in case I do something wrong, as silence settles over the crowd like a wave coming in from the sea.
The officiant steps forward and I’ve never met him, but Ziven nods his head in greeting. “Greetings to you both. I heard there was a wedding, and I wished to offer myself as officiant as my family has done every marriage here, and I am fluent in the old rituals of dragon rider marriages and royals. Are you both ready?”
Ziven looks right at me, right into my soul. “I’ve never been ready for anything more than this moment.” Deities, I love this man.
The officiant waves to the circle in the centre of the platform. “Please stand facing each other and hold hands.”
Ziven shows me how, crossing our arms over and joining them in the middle. I realise he must remember this from the Moon Dynasty, from weddings so many years ago. I know he wishes his family were here, his parents and his sister. His eyes turn to Hettie for a second, and I squeeze his fingers. He has family here and, soon, I will be his family too. A single scale, one made of glittering silver, is pressed on top of our joined hands. Magic bursts from it, wrapping our arms in glowing red and black binds that look like smoke.
“We join together these two under the watchful eye of all the deities in the sky. We ask that their days be long and their nights be short. We ask that they know love, eternal and true. We ask that they be watched over, both in their health and in the days when they are closer to the deities than any fae would like.” I don’t look away from Ziven. “May time stand still as these two become one—one soul, one flight to the deities together, one entwined soul and one entwined life.” The red and black shadows spread up my arms, but to me, there is only him and me. Timeless, endless and everything I’ve wanted since I fell in love with him. Our relationship has always been complicated and messy, filled with so many trials that pushed us apart, but in the end, we fought together to win.
“Do you, Story Dehana of the Twilight Dynasty line, mark your soul to the Moon Dynasty king to serve as a royal, as a queen of the Moon Dynasty until your last breath?”
I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“Then, King Ziven Moonsilver of the Moon Dynasty, do you take Story Moonsilver as your queen, now and forever?” he asks Ziven.
Ziven touches my cheek. “Until my last moment in this world.”
“Then may the deities and every living creature bless this holy binding of souls and royals.”
The officiant’s voice starts to fade away, but it doesn’t matter. The second the words are spoken, Ziven crashes his mouth onto mine, taking claim of every bit of me that is his. Cheers erupt from the crowd, along with music and laughter and joy, but I hold onto him. I hold onto my source of happiness like I plan to forever. I laugh as Ziven holds me tightly, joy and happiness flooding through my body. He lifts me into his arms and carries me through the crowd as they throw delicate flower petals into the air, drifting down around us like falling stars.
All I can do is look at my husband. There is music playing, laughter, and celebrations as he carries me through the town. But I can tell—he wants me alone, and I don’t disagree. He walks us straight back to our hut, and he closes the door behind us with a kick of his foot. “I could have stayed, danced, celebrated.”
“After,” he promises, dropping me onto the bed. “But first, I want to give you this alone.”
He pulls out a box, old and weathered with time, and he clicks it open to show me a ring—a beautiful ring. “Where did you possibly get that?”
“I couldn’t get your crown for today, but this is my mother’s ring. I always kept it on me, just in case you agreed to marry me. Please wear it and remember me every time you look at it.” I offer him my hand. Remember him? It almost sounds like he plans to go away somewhere, when there isn’t a chance I’m letting him go. He slides it onto my wedding finger, and I admire it in the firelight—the stunning black diamond surrounded by small, shimmering gemstones. Each gemstone is a different shade of grey and white, though I’m unsure of their exact name. Each is shaped like a moon, circling the diamond in the centre.
“It’s an heirloom of my dynasty,” he tells me as he touches it. “There was one more moment I wanted us to be alone for. Let me put the mark on you and finally take you as my mate.” My heart races. “Where do you want to put the mark?”
“Here.” I take his hand and place it directly at the centre of my chest. Closing my eyes, I trust him completely. All I feel is warmth, a slight sting, and then…something else deep within my soul as it clicks into place, like this was the irrevocable part of me I was missing. When I look down, a moon mark now rests on my skin, right next to my heart. It’s perfect. Like it was always meant to be there. Like I was always destined to be part of the Moon Dynasty.
He kisses me softly, gently, but the second kiss is not gentle at all as his hands find the lace at the back of my dress. He pulls at it, loosening it until the fabric falls from my body, pooling at my feet, leaving me bare before him. Ziven sucks in a deep breath as he watches me, his eyes dark with hunger.
“Mating,” he murmurs. “I gather you have no idea about the technical side.”
“You’re going to have to explain it to me,” I ask, heat pooling between my legs.
“It’s words said when we’re intimate, and an exchange of blood before. The old fae used to do it by biting. Even when there were no vampyres, that was our way of mating. I don’t want to ever bite you,” he vows, and I nod in agreement. Biting would throw me back to before, to my life I escaped, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to do that. He turns slightly, reaching for something on the bedside table, and I grin as I see it. A black and red jewelled dagger. He’s thought of everything. “A cut on our hands will be better,” he continues. “We can join them together when you’re ready for this. For us.”
I reach up and take the dagger from his hands, dragging the blade lightly across my palm—a shallow cut, but blood pricks. He does the same with a smirk only Ziven can pull off.
“You sure?” he asks. Like he needs to hear me say it. Hear me confirm my choices.
“Husband, there was never a moment I wasn’t sure about us.” We press our hands together at the same time, our blood mixing, and in that moment, something feral takes over him.
He pulls me to him in a way that screams mine. There is nothing short of a passionate kiss as his lips devour me, as he digs his hands into my hair—not roughly, not enough to hurt me, but enough to show me that I’m his, that I’ve always been his. I couldn’t be more certain of anything else in the world, other than I love him. If this world is going down in flames and blood, I will be at his side. Ziven pushes me down on the bed, kneeling between my legs as I watch him. Without saying a word, without even touching me right now, the way he looks at my body sets me alight. He slowly undoes the buttons of his shirt, too slowly for my liking. But there’s a smirk on his perfect lips, a smirk that tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing, as he does each and every button, my heart racing at the darkness of his eyes, the way he looks down at me, at the outline of him that I can see in his trousers. His moon ear piercings catch the light of the flames from the fire, but throughout the smoke, all I can smell is his scent. The oakwood and moss, mixed with the scent of a rider. Fire. It makes every drop of my blood buzz for him. I want to touch his soft, short dark hair and the shadow of a beard growing through, which makes him look slightly older in looks, at least. Are the fae from the mansion aging now? I assume so, and it means we could grow old together in this world and die in it too. As long as he is with me, death doesn’t scare me one bit.
Watching him as he pulls off his shirt is devilish, his chest is not soft anywhere. In fact, not much of him is. There is nothing but chiseled muscles, and his new markings swirling around every inch of tight skin. The dragons move slowly, so slowly if I look at them I can see it; otherwise, it just looks like he has hundreds of markings of so many dragons. I find myself tracing him over the musculature of his forearms up to his muscled shoulders, down his chest past his pecs to the deep V-line and the ripples of muscles that disappear into his trousers, along with a light graze of hair that I want to see all the way down.
He undoes his belt and makes me watch as he slowly pushes them off, standing up off the bed to take them off completely until there’s no clothing between us, but yet he’s still so far away. I curl a finger in the air. “Come here, husband.”
“I used to like the name Ziv,” he murmurs, kneeling back onto the bed, kneeling before me. Deities, I like it when he kneels before me, especially now. I can see every inch of him and I see that a brilliant, proud man who has done everything for me is overwhelming. I love him so much. “But I think I enjoy the title husband far more,” he murmurs, his deep voice promising pleasure only he can give me, sends shivers down my spine. He lifts my leg onto his shoulder and his lips twitch. All amusement is gone when he drifts his eyes down my body, past my breasts and to my core. He kisses down to my knee and then to my inner thigh, and my heart races harder, louder, even more as he pushes my thighs apart. Ziven looks down at me in a way that’s nothing short of hungry. The groan that leaves his lips as he’s down kissing my thigh is music to my ears. There is something about hearing his pleasure, even when he isn’t inside me, that I need to hear. one torturous kiss at a time until he finds my core, and he presses a kiss there that sends electric buzzing all the way through my body. I gasp as he parts me, and slowly rolls his tongue around my clit. More torture, more teasing and it feels like he’s savoring every moment. It’s a game I’m happy to play because we both win at the end. “I’m going to very much enjoy calling you mate.” He swirls his tongue more. The vibration of him speaking against me is just getting me close to—“Or wife.” I moan as he swirls his tongue faster this time. His hands grip my thighs tightly, locking me in place. “But perhaps, knowing that our souls are bonded... it doesn’t matter what I call you anymore, Storm. Just that you’re mine.”
He doesn’t make me wait any longer as he glides two fingers into me, finding me completely soaked for him and swirls his tongue faster, sucking and nibbling at the same time, sending me into a frenzy. I grip the headboard of the flimsy bed, holding onto it tightly as I moan, as I crash into an orgasm that feels like it burns my body from the inside out. My back arches, and he’s ferocious, pulling out every inch of pleasure from me before he sits up, still on his knees, and picks me up to him. Ziven sits on the bed, pulling me against him, and his hard cock runs right up against me. His head drops back and there’s something so sexy about sitting on the lap of my mate, even when we’re not joined, and seeing him nearly loosing it.
“Ziv,” I whisper, brushing my fingers down his cheek. I lift my hips, kneeling over him. He watches me, looking deep into my eyes as I slowly drop down an inch at a time onto his cock until he’s fully inside me, until I feel full in a way that’s the best way possible to be. His hands slide down my back slowly, while grabbing my ass and pulling me up and slamming me back down again and again and again as he looses all control and I enjoy every second of it. I moan as the sound of us fills the room until I can see he’s splitting with the control that he’s trying so hard not to let go. “Tell me what to say to be your mate,” I moan, unable to help myself.
Ziven, my husband, grips the back of my neck, my nipples rubbing against his chest every time I slam up and down on his cock. “Take me as your mate, in front of the deities. Let all that are listening entwine our souls.”
I repeat his words, breathless, moans escaping through every word that escapes me. A connection like nothing else building within my soul, burning and binding me to him. His eyes seem to glow with it too, as he kisses me, deeply absorbing every moan as I ride him. Harder, faster, both of us chasing our pleasure, but I need this never to end. Like we will never end. Our souls are one, in front of the deities, and I dare them to try to part us now. My orgasm burns through me like a fire, touching every inch of me until I’m blinded by it. Gripping my hips tightly, Ziven groans as he finds his own release. We breathlessly both come down from the moment together, his forehead resting against mine. “You’re mine.”
His soft laugh sends shivers across my skin. “You’re my mate, but I’ve always been yours. Doesn’t matter what titles are between us. Everything I am is yours.” He softly brushes his lips across mine. “I’ve loved you for so long, Story. But it doesn’t feel like long enough. I want an endless future with you. One where it’s just me and you.”
“We’ll have that,” I say, raising my hand to stroke his cheek. He leans into my hand. “Tonight is ours and we face tomorrow, and the war, when the sun rises.” I whisper.
“When the sun rises.” He vows. I grin as he kisses me again, pushing me down onto the bed and he makes every minute of the night count. Once I thought I wasn’t beautiful because I was scarred, because it wasn’t just the outside scars, it was what was rotting on the inside. I thought the vampyres tainted me, they changed who I was deep below. But Ziven showed me that nothing can change who you are—no one can scar your soul enough that it warps it into something unbeautiful. No. My husband showed me that there’s always something worth living for.