Page 18 of Their Witch Bride

Her back stiffens while she’s smiling and waving to everyone, but she doesn’t look back at me. “Tara, make sure you keep your mouth shut when they get here. You sound like an imbecile.”

The doors to the ballroom open and in walks a pack of enormous men. The revelry in the ballroom halts. My breath is sucked from my lungs, and my legs tremble. The men tower over every witch in the coven as they wind their way through the room. All of them are clad in black and brown leather with fur here and there on their cloaks. None of them seems happy to be here. Join the club.

It’s like a fireball of testosterone walked in and sucked all the fun from my people, and now they aren’t sure what to do. These men are intimidating, with nothing but scowls showing on each face. It’s like someone forgot to tell them we’re now at peace.

My gaze sweeps over the men and freezes in the center of them, unable to pull away. Three men stand above the others, backs straight, grim determination on their faces. They seem to command the room without a word. I’ve heard of alphas and betas, basically how the shifter packs work, but I’ve never understood the terms until this moment.

These three men are alphas, through every inch of their muscular forms.

The one in the middle is the tallest of the shifters with piercing, bright green eyes that don’t seem to match his demeanor or the frown on his face. They’re green like a meadow, intelligent, somehow, and are a stark contrast to his jet-black hair. I’ve never seen a man like him before. Our men are thinner, well-cared for, with jobs that often keep them out of the sun. This man seems to radiate a manly energy that I’ve never experienced before, like he often works hard under the hot sun.

Why does his presence make me so uncomfortable?

The man on his right is massive. They’re all massive, but he’s more muscular than the whole group. His brown hair is longer on top and short on the sides, and tattoos peak out wherever I see skin. My pulse races at the sight of him. When our eyes meet, even the whisper of attraction I imagined for him fades away. If looks could kill, his gaze would have given me a quick death.

On the left of the green-eyed shifter, a blond-haired, blue-eyed man makes eye contact with me. He’s muscular and tough-looking, but I also suspect that he’s the kindest of the group, given the fact that there isn’t obvious hatred reflecting in his eyes. Instead, he seems on alert and curious. My heart hopes he’s the one I’m marrying, if I’m judging a book solely by its cover.

The other two definitely earned their bloodthirsty reputation, that’s for sure.

Behind the line of men walks a heavy, older man. He’s nearly as tall as he is wide, with a beard of white hair that nearly reaches the floor, although it’s braided. As I watch him, he makes his way to the stage.

My heart stops. No, no, no!

Is this my future husband? My hands begin to tremble at the thought of having to marry him. He’s probably twice my mom’s age, and he scowls at me as he takes the steps up to the stage.

I’m going to be his wife. I’m going to share his bed. My stomach roils, and I bring my hand to my mouth. I should have found someone, anyone, willing to sleep with me before this, so this wouldn’t be my first time.

But then… he walks past me. Relief washes over me as he goes to stand next to my mother. They shake hands, then stand as if they intend to officiate the wedding together, but it’s my mother who says, “This is Elder Mire. He will be conducting the ceremony today as the shifter officiant.”

Okay. That’s not my husband. Then, who?

Most of the shifters take up positions around the room, as if prepared for an attack rather than a wedding, but the three men in the center head straight for us. None of them seem happy. If anything, they look like they want to be here about as much as I do.

When they take the stage, I don’t know what to expect, but they stand, squaring off with me. So, I’m marrying three men. Nope, three shifters. I don’t know if this is an improvement to when I thought I was marrying the old shifter, but I don’t feel any better.

What will the wedding night be like? Painful, that’s all I can think.

“It’s time to begin the ceremony,” my mother says, then looks at the old man beside her.

He lifts his arms as if he’s reaching out to touch the top of the cavern, and his booming voice echoes through the cavern. “Before the moon and the shifter gods, I stand before you with the great honor of joining together Prince Arlys of Pack Talon, Prince Rinan of Pack Silver, and Prince Drogo of Pack Fury with-” he pauses and leans down to speak to my mother before continuing, “with Princess Tara Stone of the Crystal Coven. May their union be one that garners the peace we have all longed for after more than a century of bloodshed and war. May these four royals pave a path of peace for their people. Prince Arlys, Prince Rinan, and Prince Drogo, bow before your bride and vow to be hers forever more.”

The man with jet black hair and the deep green eyes bows first. “I, Prince Arlys, vow to be yours forever more.”

The next man, the angry man with the tattoos, bows next, even though his bow is stiff. “I, Prince Drogo, vow to be yours forever more.” But his words almost sound like a threat.

The final man, the blond with the kind eyes, meets my gaze as he bows, his expression curious. “I, Prince Rinan, vow to be yours forever more.” His words are quiet, almost a promise just between us.

When they’re done, I have to take a deep breath because I feel light headed. This is really happening. And it’s happening so fast. I can’t escape. Or can I? Could I just start running? If I did, where would I even go?

The older man reaches out a hand to me.

I stare. He stares.

My mother whispers, “Tara, take the rings!”

I feel like I’m somewhere else. Like this is all a bad dream. But I lift my hand, and he hands me three golden bands. They glint in my palm like the tip of a sword, and I imagine a sword being pressed to my throat.

“Princess Tara, these rings signify your unending commitment to your husbands. The circle is the only shape with perfect symmetry that never ends. Your bond with these men begins now and shall never end. Place a ring on the finger of each of your husbands,” the old man booms.

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