Chapter 23 #3
Aspen beat me to the closet, already unzipping the garment bag that hung on the back of the door.
She held the dress up in front of her—a soft, almost-blush pink, the sleeves sheer to the elbow, the neckline square and modest, the bodice fitted and the skirt flaring out just enough to make her look like a 1950s movie star.
It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, and that was before she even put it on.
I showered quickly, then went to my side of the closet. The suit had arrived the week before, tailored by Menace’s favorite shop in Amarillo: navy, with a black-and-blue brocade vest, white shirt, and a black silk tie. I tied it twice before I got it right, hands shaking the whole time.
I could hear Aspen on the other side of the bathroom door, humming as she did her hair. I finished dressing and turned to the mirror. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t see the scars or the lines or the broken pieces. I saw a man who belonged here, who’d earned every inch of this moment.
The door opened, and Aspen stepped out, dress swirling beyond her feet, hair loose and shiny as a raven’s wing. She stopped short when she saw me.
“Wow,” she breathed, then again, “Wow.”
I tried to say something, but the words died. She looked like a dream, and I think I loved her more in that instant than I ever had before.
She crossed to me and straightened my tie, her hands gentle. “You’re so handsome,” she whispered.
I shook my head. “You’re perfect.”
She blushed, then leaned in and kissed me, careful not to smudge her lipstick.
Oscar popped in, tail curled smartly. He wore a little black jacket and a high-collar white shirt with a black vest and gray silk cravat. “Shall we depart, sir, Miss?”
We laughed, and for a moment, there were no witches trying to harm my mate, no danger, no tomorrow. Just the three of us, standing in a sunlit room, ready for the rest of our lives.
I offered my arm. “Shall we, m’lady?”
She took it, and together we walked out the door, the late-day sun painting everything in gold.
The walk from the truck to the altar was only thirty yards, but the way Aspen clutched my arm made it feel like a parade down Main Street.
Everyone was already in motion—pack kids running underfoot, Pearl and Maddie adjusting tablecloths and lanterns, the drone of the sound system testing in the background.
The golden light of the day had deepened, and as we passed under the string of lights, the entire world glowed pink and orange.
I did a sweep of the clearing, noting the new arrivals. Parker had set up a command post by the espresso bar, logging every guest in real time. Gunner circled the perimeter, giving two-fingered salutes to anyone he knew. Arsenal manned the entrance, nodding to the VIPs as they arrived.
The first big arrival at the ceremony area was Menace and Savannah.
They came in like the royalty they were, moving with a casual confidence that reminded everyone exactly who they were.
Savannah wore a fitted green dress and cowboy boots, her hair tamed into glossy curls.
Menace was all ice and steel, but the way he smiled at Savannah melted a little of the hard edge.
I shook his hand, then guided them toward the altar where Bronc and Juliet were waiting for the official start.
Next up was the vampire King Kazimir. Lucia was close behind, plus a couple of enormous “advisors” who looked like they could rip the transmission out of a diesel truck with their bare hands.
Kazimir greeted me with a predator’s smile, sharp and gleaming, then turned his attention to the dessert table.
He moved with impossible speed and grace, and within seconds he was standing behind Aspen, watching her as she double-checked her cake.
“Miss Waters,” he said, his voice silk over broken glass. “Your reputation precedes you.”
Aspen nearly bumped into the cake. She spun around, eyes wide.
“Thank you, sir,” she said, ducking her head. Her southern accent got thicker when she was nervous.
Kazimir nodded, then motioned to Lucia. “My daughter is an admirer of your work.”
Lucia, tall and lithe, wore a black sheath dress and lipstick the color of cherry cordial. She leaned in and studied the cake.
“It’s beautiful,” she said to Aspen, her voice low and smoky. “You’re an artist.”
Aspen’s cheeks went pink. “You’re very kind.”
Kazimir lingered another beat, then turned to me. “Congratulations on the occasion, Mr. Rice.”
I gave him my best “business handshake” and made a mental note to keep the vampires away from the cocktail table.
The guests kept coming. My parents came down the aisle, and I stiffened. They walked up to the table, the look on their faces best described as sheepish.
“Son, Aspen. It’s lovely to see you again.” My mother’s voice was strained but civil.
My father shook my hand.
I decided just to be myself. “Hi Mom, Dad. Y’all look nice.”
Aspen spoke up also. “Mr. and Mrs. Rice, it’s nice to see you.”
My mother looked surprised that Aspen was civil to her.
“This is a beautiful cake, Aspen. You are very talented.” Her voice was sincere.
“Oh, thank you so much.” She replied with a heart-melting smile. There is no way you couldn’t love this woman.
“Well, we need to take our seats, I guess.” My dad was clearly ready to move on.
I gave Aspen a wink.
King Rafe arrived fashionably late, sauntering in with his own small entourage.
He was decked out in what looked like a designer suit, probably Armani, looking more like a retired linebacker than a king.
His presence quieted the crowd; you could feel the power rolling off him.
I walked over to meet him. He clapped me on the back and said, “Damn good turnout, son. Who’s the artist over there? ” He asked, pointing at Aspen.
I told him Aspen was my mate, and his eyebrows shot up.
“Nice catch,” he said, with genuine warmth.
I wanted to be certain he understood she belonged to me. Rafe was an unmated wolf. Didn’t want him getting ideas.
By 5:45, the clearing was full. The crowd amazingly co-mingled together; vampires sat with wolves, and different packs sat together. This was a time for celebrating love, and everyone seemed to share the spirit of the occasion.
The last arrival was the most anticipated.
Archon Seraphael entered with no fanfare, just a ripple through the crowd as every head turned at once.
He was seven feet if he was an inch, dressed in white linen, his hair shining like spun glass.
He moved with the ease of a man who had never in his entire existence, feared anything.
He nodded at Bronc, then at me, then fixed his golden gaze on Aspen.
She froze. For a moment, she was so still I thought she’d turned to stone. Then, he turned back to me.
“It’s good to see you again, Jonas. Much better circumstances this time, I’d say,” he said, his voice a song and a commandment.
I had no idea what to say, so I just nodded. “Thank you for coming, sir.”
He left me standing there as he found his seat.
I took my place next to Bronc, squared my shoulders; it was almost time.