Alexander
Awaiting Her at the Altar
I’ve killed men without blinking. Watched empires fall and walked through fire with my hands steady. But standing at the altar? Waiting for her? My knees tried to fucking buckle.
The guests blurred. The priest droned. The world narrowed to static—Until the doors opened. And she appeared. Elara. Not Evelyn. Not the trembling girl I met in a too-small office months ago. Elara. Dressed in white like sacrilege. Holding our children like offerings to a god she did not fear.
My chest shattered. Every step she took felt deliberate—A vow.
A blade. A claiming. By the time she reached me, I was shaking so hard.
Aiden murmured, “Pull it together, man,” under his breath.
But she looked up at me with eyes that had seen their own abyss and survived it.
And I knew—I would kneel to her if she asked.
She handed the twins to Sammy, placed her hands in mine, and the air snapped between us. “You look…” I tried.
She smirked. “I know.”
I let out a breath I’d been holding for months and pulled out my vows—creased, folded, worn by the heat of my palm. “I was never meant for love,” I began. “Love is weakness. Risk. A weapon used against men like me.”
Her lips curled. “But then you walked in with your quiet fire and your stubborn will,” I continued. “And I realized the truth. You are not my weakness. You are the only thing that has ever made me strong.”
Her eyes brightened—dangerously.
“I vow to guard you, worship you, burn for you. Not because you need it. But because I have never needed anything more.”
When she whispered her vows back, it wasn’t innocent.
It was fury softened by devotion. “I don’t want your protection,” she told me. “I want your partnership. Your shadow. Your blood. Your name. Your knife at my side.”
I nearly kissed her before the priest allowed it. But when he finally said the words, I didn’t hesitate. Our kiss was an oath carved in blood and breath.