Page 20 of Dark Witch: Entangled Fates

"Come on, sweetheart," he murmured, wrapping an arm around her waist and guiding her towards the terrace doors. "Let's get you some fresh air."

As they stepped out into the cool night and leaned against the railing, the salty tang of the ocean filled their lungs, and the night breeze caressed Marina's flushed cheeks.

The tension in her shoulders eased, and she tipped her head back to gaze up at the star-strewn sky. "It's beautiful out here," she whispered. "Peaceful."

Peter hummed in agreement, his own eyes drinking in the soft glow of the moonlight on her face. "Not as beautiful as you," he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Marina's gaze snapped to his, her eyes wide and shining in the darkness. For a long moment, they stared at each other, the air between them crackling with tension.

He lifted a hand to cup her cheek. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Are you nervous about attending the wedding party?"

Marina opened her mouth to answer but then lurched forward, her hand flying to her mouth. "I'm gonna be sick," she mumbled, her words muffled behind her fingers.

Springing into action, Peter spun her towards the railing, one hand gathering her hair back while the other rubbed soothing circles between her shoulder blades.

Marina retched, her slender frame shuddering as she emptied the contents of her stomach into the dark water below.

When she was done, he turned her to face him, fishing a napkin out of his pocket and wiping her mouth as gently as he could and handed her a bottle of water to drink from.

"Thank you." She gurgled with some of the water, spit it out over the railing, and then drank the rest.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

Marina nodded, her eyes glassy with tears and something that looked a lot like shame. "I'm sorry." Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a box of mints and popped a bunch of them into her mouth.

Peter shook his head. "It's not a big deal. Happened to me on more than one occasion." Actually, he'd never gotten drunk enough to puke his guts out, but he didn't want her to feel embarrassed.

"You don't understand," Marina murmured. "I ruined everything."

He frowned. "What are you talking about? You didn't ruin anything."

Was she referring to her earlier admission that she wanted to move in with him?

He pulled her into his arms, tucking her head beneath his chin and running a soothing hand down her back. "You couldn't ruin anything even if you tried."

The truth of his words reverberated in his mind against the backdrop of the distant strains of music drifting out from the dining room and the crash of waves against the hull filling the night air.

Peter wanted Marina in his house just as much as she wanted to be there. He just hadn't had the guts to admit it or to act on it.

14

MARINA

The cool night air washed over Marina, helping clear her mind while Peter's arm around her waist provided a steadying presence. She leaned into him, grateful for his solid strength, for the way he seemed to anchor her even as the world tilted and spun around her.

She hadn't meant to drink so much. She hadn't planned on drowning her sorrows in endless glasses of too-sweet cocktails. But watching the gorgeous bride and her bridesmaids get ready to enter the dining hall, resplendent in their designer gowns and glowing with joy, had triggered an ache inside of her that was too difficult to overcome.

She'd hoped the alcohol would help, which was stupid because it never did. It only made things worse.

Marina was happy for the bride and groom and wished them all the happiness in the world, but she wanted what the bride had—the beautiful dress that was precisely what Marina would have chosen for her own wedding if she could afford it, and the wonderful, loving groom waiting for her at the altar and feeling like the luckiest man alive because this amazing woman had chosen him.

But that wish felt further out of reach than ever before, a distant mirage shimmering on the horizon of a cloudy future.

Marina didn't have a wonderful groom waiting for her at the altar. Her fiancé had dumped her for another woman, and she didn't even have a boyfriend. What she had was a web of lies and half-truths, a house of cards that was about to come tumbling down the moment she confessed her scheming to Peter.

And she would confess because she had to, and not just because she'd promised Larissa she would do it. A sort of morbid curiosity urged her to tell Peter the truth and witness his reaction.

Would he forgive her?

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