Epilogue #2
Daniel and Sarah leave to go take their seats. Madam Petrova does a final check of the veil. She hands me my bouquet of wildflowers with the small square of Claire’s blue silk tucked in among the stems.
My father offers me his arm. “Ready, sweetheart?”
“Ready, Dad.”
The gardens are golden with the last of the late summer light. The Krovenian musicians at the side of the lawn begin to play something gentle and old. The crowd of a hundred or so guests stand and turn as my father and I begin the walk toward the center aisle.
I see them all in a single sweep. Nikolai in his King-formals, his hand on Claire’s lower back as she bounces a fussy Alexei against her shoulder.
Sebastian is tall and grinning while Maxim remains somber and watchful.
The household staff lines the back rows in their best clothes.
Madam Petrova in the front row, already weeping.
The playgroup children and their parents sit in a dignified row.
Lily is in her pale green flower-girl dress with her dark curls pinned up with a silver clip, stands at the front near the archway with her small basket of petals. Max is tucked into the crook of her elbow because of course he is. She sees me and the corner of her small mouth lifts.
And then I see Viktor and my heart literally stops. He’s so handsome it’s nearly blinding.
He stands at the archway in formal Krovenian wedding attire. All black with silver detailing across the shoulders. His dark hair tied back at the nape of his neck. He looks like the daunting male from the portrait that hung in the corridor I walked past a hundred times my first week here.
He sees me and his whole face softens.
My father continues to walk me down the aisle and he hands me over. My father steps back to his seat.
Viktor takes both of my hands.
The officiant clears his throat softly. There is a small ripple of laughter in the crowd.
The ceremony begins.
The Krovenian officiant speaks the ancient vows first, in Krovenian.
Viktor has been teaching me these words for three months, so I follow along.
They are old, weighty and beautiful, vows of blood and bond and the witness of the gods.
Viktor murmurs the responses, his eyes on mine the whole time, his thumb stroking the back of my hand.
Then comes the human-style exchange.
“Do you, Hazel Anne Novak, take this male to be your bonded husband?”
“I do.”
“Do you, Viktor Aleksandr of House Draven, take this female to be your bonded wife?”
“I do.”
A pause for the rings. We slide them onto each other’s fingers and his hand is shaking very slightly when he does it. So is mine.
I catch Lily’s eye over Viktor’s shoulder.
She watches the whole thing very seriously.
Her small mouth has tightened with concentration.
I smile at her. She smiles back, giving me a happy wave.
My girl is thrilled that her daddy and her favorite nanny are getting married and that means I’m staying, which is darling.
“By the bonds of blood and the witness of this gathering, I pronounce you mated and wed. Crown Prince Viktor, you may kiss your princess.”
Viktor lifts my veil and pulls me in and kisses me, slow and deep. His hand cradles the back of my neck. His mouth opens against mine. I put my arms around his neck and kiss him back with all the passion I’ve been keeping inside.
The gathering cheers. Someone, probably Sebastian, whoops.
When we finally break apart, Viktor keeps his forehead pressed against mine for one long beat. We turn to face our guests. Viktor takes my hand and we walk back down the aisle together as the musicians strike up something joyful.
I am now Princess Hazel Anne of House Draven.
The reception is held on the same lawn, transitioned beautifully as the sun sets fully.
Soft string lights are draped between the trees.
Long tables of food are laid out, a mix of Krovenian dishes and a few of my favorites from Ohio.
I insisted on having proper Ohio buckeyes for dessert.
Madam Petrova was confused at first about what they were, then horrified that they contained peanut butter, then deeply impressed once she tasted one.
The Krovenian musicians shift into dance music.
Viktor leads me onto the lawn for our first dance.
It turns out he is a surprisingly good dancer, Krovenian formal training, apparently, that he never thought to mention.
I forgive him for not warning me only because he is very good at it.
He leads me through a slow, sweeping turn under the string lights and my dress catches the light and floats around me.
The party is lovely and I’m having a terrific time, but I also want alone time with my new husband.
Around midnight, Madam Petrova quietly appears at my elbow. “Lily is asleep, dear. The guests are being shown to their chambers. The staff has the cleanup. Your father and brother are in good hands. Everything is handled.” She pats my hand. “Off you go, dears.”
I give her a kiss on the cheek, then I find Viktor across the lawn, take his hand, and we slip away together.
Upstairs, in our castle suite, Viktor closes the door behind us and turns to look at me. His eyes are dark and hungry, glowing faintly. “Princess Hazel of House Draven,” he rasps.
“Crown Prince of Krovenia.”
He starts toward me, an enormous erection already tenting his pants.
I lick my lips and stop him with one hand flat on his chest. “Wait. Tonight, I want to give you something while wearing this wedding dress and you still in your formal wear,” I say. “Let me?”
His pupils dilate. My new husband knows how much I love giving blow jobs. “Yes.”
I push him gently backward until his back hits the door. I take my time undoing the silver buckle of his belt and then I pull down his pants, letting that luscious cock bound free. There is already cum leaking from the slit at the crown.
My knees hit the floor, with my dress pooling on the floor around me. I look up at him from the floor.
His face does the slack disbelieving thing. His mouth is parted. His fangs are fully down.
“I love you, Viktor,” I murmur, and kiss the inside of his muscular thigh.
A small sound from him. His hand has found my hair.
And then I take him in my mouth. He says something in Krovenian I do not understand and lets out a low broken sound. His hand fists gently in my hair.
I take my time. I have been imagining this scenario for months.
I work him slow, deep, confident. He’s very big, but I’ve learned how to fit around him and take as much of him as I can.
I already know that he likes it a bit rough, with my teeth scraping against him and if I suck him hard and fast at the end, that’s his happy place.
He tries very hard to last and keeps repeating my name like a chant.
He does not last.
When he comes, it is hard and long and he is careful with my hair but desperate enough that he cannot help himself, being a little rough.
I swallow and lick every last bit of his cum, because I love how he tastes.
I’d imagined this moment a hundred times and the real thing is better than every fantasy.
When he is finished, he pulls me up and sweeps me into his arms.
“Your turn, my mate,” he rasps. You are wet. I can scent you across the room. You took care of me. I will take care of you.”
He tosses me onto the bed and throws back my skirt and literally tears off my underwear. In moments I’m naked between my thighs for easy access, while still wearing those heels that Claire warned me about, but I couldn’t think of taking off.
And then he proceeds to give me the best oral sex of my life, which is saying a lot considering this man has given me epic oral since day one. I do not last long either, considering this is a man who fully understands the important of the clit. I scream as the orgasm hits me in waves.
When I am finally limp against him, he lifts his head and looks at me. “There,” he murmurs. “Even.”
I laugh weakly. “Even.”
He pulls me into the curve of his body. I tuck myself against him. His hand spreads across my small bump.
“How is our little one?” he asks softly.
“Good. Restless. I felt the first flutter yesterday.”
He goes very still.
“I was saving that tidbit of info for right now, as a gift for you on our wedding day.”
“Hazel.”
“Mmm?”
“You give me everything.”
We quietly and carefully change out of our wedding clothes and into our pajamas. Then we lie together quiet as the fire crackles low. And I drift off in his arms, knowing I’m exactly where I was meant to be.