Page 114 of Hateful Games

I forget about the world.

Until only he exists.

And I almost don’t believe my eyes, thinking I’ve suddenly gone colorblind.

But in the next breath, he reaches forward to take my hand from my father, who pats my back in fake affection and steps away.

Nova doesn’t let go of my hand, his grip tight and warm. So are his eyes, arched with perfectly groomed eyebrows and a square jaw, envy of every male. They bask me in its light and heat as if he has suddenly become incapable of dragging them away.

Strangely, neither can I.

“You look breathtaking, Rose.” His voice is husky and deep. “My gothic Barbie.”

“You…” I trail off, gaze lowering to his suit, which makes the corner of his lips lift.

“Someone had to wear red.”

“What happened to traditions?”

“Traditions are meant to be broken, my Rose.”

The priest clears his throat, bursting our bubble we got trapped in. Nova’s jaw tightens in mild annoyance. He bewitches me with another carnal look, full of sensual promises, before we face the priest together. Our hands still intertwined.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today,” begins the priest with a pleasant smile. “In the sight of God to witness and celebrate the holy union of Rosalie and Nova. Marriage is a sacred covenant. It is a union founded on love, trust, and fidelity…”

His calming voice zones out when Nova’s thumb rubs back and forth on the inside of my wrist. It leaves me distracted and discombobulated. When I sneak a glance at him, he’s staring straight ahead with no visible tell he’s aware of the small movement.

I’m pulled back to the moment when I’m asked to repeat the standard vows. Slowly, we face each other and I miraculously deliver without stuttering. Nova does the same and again, I’m left scared by the foreign emotions swirling in his eyes.

Until there’s no distinguishing the lies from the truth.

“Nova, do you take Rosalie to be your wife? Do you promise to be faithful to her in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love her and to honor her all the days of your life?”

“I do.”

“Rosalie, do you take Nova to be your husband? Do you promise to be faithful to him in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love him and to honor him all the days of your life?”

“I do,” I whisper, binding my fate to him.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

My eyes involuntarily fall to his mouth. When I bring them back up, his are stuck on my lips and darkening with hunger. I swallow when he shifts closer, my breasts grazing his chest as his right arm winds around my waist. His free hand’s fingertips journey up my spine, one inch at a time until he cups the back of my neck.

Every touch feels deliberately slow.

Or maybe it’s time moving slow.

“Nova,” I whimper.

His mouth descends.

Our lips touch and madness unfurls. His lips are soft and gentle but the passion with which he kisses is harsh and full of ownership. So are his fingers around my nape, holding me still for the deep assault of his mouth.

The kiss is indecent. Filthy. Ferocious.

Like the man himself.

My villain.

---