Chapter 10
Anders’s arms felt empty the moment she slipped from his grasp. He knew no words would keep her from what she deemed was her path, but still, he wished there was another way for them, a means for them to be together. Dreams of a foolish boy.
He couldn’t be a fool. He had to be his wolf. If he was going to survive all of this…
Was surviving enough for him? Did he merely wish to live each day and sleep each night?
Honestly, no. During his exile, he had been more man than wolf, and it had almost driven him mad. Even before that, he had always felt as if he was being kept too locked down, as if he had been meant for something more.
And now? Ever since meeting and bedding Misti, he felt more alive than ever. He had lived and breathed and killed, and it had all been such a rush, but even that compared to what he felt when he was with her intimately.
Never again.
The thought might have saddened him. Instead, it angered him. Rage and hatred, was that all he would ever feel? His Shadowed Stars and her Red Nightwalkers had thrived on those emotions for such a long time that it felt almost alien to be at peace.
Yet he felt peace with her.
A Red Nightwalker of all werewolves.
For long hours, he paced in his room, feeling more like a caged animal His still healing body didn’t appreciate it, and eventually, he sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands.
A knock at his door found him groggy. He sat up—when had he laid down?—and called out, “Come in.”
To his disappointment, Misti didn’t enter. Tia did. She thrust out some clothes. “Go ahead and change into these. The ceremony will take place in the garden.”
“No breakfast?”
She smiled at him. “After the wedding.”
He had no appetite, so the delay didn’t bother him any. Although I doubt I’ll be up for eating afterward.
The clothes were simple—tan pants and a white button-down shirt. No tie, no belt. The shirt was a tight fit over his muscles, but the pants were his size at least.
The gardens. Would that make Misti happy, to be wed in such a beautiful location? If he had been able to convince her that they were the perfect match, he would not have had a wedding in front of a host of people. It would have been a quick elopement, most likely after he had claimed her.
The thought of Talon claiming Misti had Anders growling, his hands clenching into fists, his teeth turning into fangs. It took him a good two minutes to calm down.
He left his room and knocked on Misti’s, but she wasn’t there, gone already. Maybe that was just as well. What could he say to her?
Deep down, he hoped she was doing this for them and that she didn’t actually want to marry Talon. After all, she didn’t know the guy.
Does she know me any better? a snide voice in the back of his head asked.
Scowling, he followed the tide of werewolves behind the guest quarters and the building that housed the alpha and his closest men. There, the garden stretched before them, a small patch of land but filled with many flowers in a wide array of colors. Their scents floated on the light breeze, lending a bit of happiness to this otherwise bleak day. Not a cloud hovered above them, the sky a bright blue. It was a warm day, but Anders only felt cold.
There weren’t any chairs set up, the werewolves standing in uniform lines on either side of the garden. Anders strolled down the center of the two columns and claimed the opening in the front row. On reflection, he realized the spot might have been intended for Kastner, but he wasn’t about to give it up. He refused to hide in the back. He’d witness this farce of a wedding.
Talon appeared, as if out of nowhere. He wore a grey pinstripe suit. It fit him far better than Anders’s hand-me-downs. The werewolf clasped his hands behind his back.
A moment later, Kastner marched down the aisle. He turned around and faced the gathering. Ah, so he’s performing the ceremony. That made sense. The alpha’s gaze fell on the crowd and landed on Anders. He stared him down, neither blinking, nodding, or acknowledging the other.
A faint murmur rifled through the crowd, and Anders turned. His chest grew tight. Misti wore a pale blue dress. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders, a ring of flowers encircling her brow. She was barefoot, and she looked almost like a princess. No, a queen.
His she-wolf—he had to stop thinking of her like that—kept her gaze straight ahead. Just as well. He feared what he might do if she looked at him, if he saw a sign of distress in her beautiful features—whether that distress would be real or imagined, it wouldn’t have mattered.
She stood beside Talon. The two didn’t touch each other. Both of them seemed rigid and overly formal, or maybe that was just wishful thinking.
Kastner spoke for a long while, speaking of wedding, of binding two werewolves together, of the hope for a better tomorrow no matter the cost it might take to bring that tomorrow about. Anders’s legs grew sore and stiff the longer the alpha droned on.
When he finally said that Talon could kiss his werewolf bride, Anders closed his eyes. He had lost her. She belonged to Talon now for as long as they both lived.
Only after the claiming.
Marriages between werewolves were more a formality. It was only the claiming that truly mattered.
The werewolves around him cheered as Talon gave Misti a quick kiss. A pathetic kiss. Anders would have given her a piece of him right then and there, had he been the one to marry her.
Actually, if he was being honest, claiming or no claiming, he had already given her a piece of himself, a piece he’d never get back and a piece he never wanted back.
I love you, Misti.