Page 110 of The Gamma's Second Chance

A breeze blows, catching the fabric of her gown and swirling the material, making the loose, wispy tendrils of her hair dance in the moonlight. The white, semi-sheer fabric of her dress almost hides her body from view. But the moon and stars give enough light to make out the outline of her long, graceful legs, the curve of her ass, and the swell of her breasts beneath the layers of the gown.

The train rustles across the grass and up the stairs, the clicking of beadwork adding depth to the music she makes as she walks. The jeweled pins holding her hair in place sparkle and tease my eyes, disappearing and reappearing like stars in the night sky. It all combines to create an ethereal, sensual image of Cassandra, one I’ll remember for all our days.

Innumerable stars twinkle in the sky, but she shines brighter and more exquisitely than all of them combined.

My stunning, incomparable Cassandra.

Mine.

When we reach the threshold, she stops, and her breath catches in her throat as she stares at the interior, tears pooling in her eyes. I pause behind her, hands resting on her hips, gazing at it with her.

It’s dark inside, save for one large candle near us. Unlit candles line the temple, one in front of each column holding up the open-air roof. On the opposite side from us, a glass of wine sits in front of a large unlit candle matching the one to our left, and in the circular, sunken floor of the temple are cushions, pillows, silks, and furs.

And strewn about the temple, arranged in vases and small, hand-tied bundles, are daisies of every color. Just as I requested.

Cassandra inhales, her breath shaking, and she covers her mouth with a trembling hand. I dart around her, cupping her face in my hands and frowning down at her as the tears fall down her cheeks. “What is it?”

She shakes her head and wipes the tears from her face. “It’s silly.”

“I’m sure it’s not.”

She smiles through her quivering lips. “I’ve helped prepare the temple for this ceremony countless times as an acolyte.” She licks her lips and reaches her hand out to my chest, her fingertips grazing over my skin, like she’s not sure I’m real. “I never thought I’d see it set up for my own marking ceremony.” A little tear-filled laugh falls from her mouth. “It feels like a dream.”

I wrap my arms around her torso, tucking her against my chest and kissing the top of her head. “It’s not a dream.” I grip her chin and lift her gaze to mine. “It’s real. You and me, Daisy. Forever.”

My hand travels down her neck, and I circle her mark with my fingertips, her eyelids fluttering as she sighs. “Forever. I like the sound of that.”

I smile. “Me too.”

She reaches up and presses her lips to mine. The kiss is soft, sweet, filled with joy, and tinted with a deeper sensuality, just like Cassandra. I long to deepen it and extend it, but she backs away and connects our hands again, guiding me to the one lit candle in the temple.

Two wooden lighting sticks lay on the pedestal the candle sits on. She grabs both and hands one to me, gesturing at the candle with her chin. “This candle represents how our souls started as one before splitting into two halves. We each will light half the circle of candles until we reach the large candle on the other side,” she says, sweeping her arm out and gesturing at the unlit candles around the temple. “We light them to signify our journey to find our other half, showing how, although our souls were split, we endured our separation, growing stronger apart to become a powerful, singular entity upon reuniting.”

We gaze into each other’s eyes as she finishes speaking, and my throat bobs as I swallow back the emotion building there. She entwines our fingers, and as one, we light our wooden sticks before separating and circling the temple.

It’s silent, save for the susurrations of her dress on the temple floor. It whispers and sighs, like a lover in the night, reminding me of her steady, unchanging presence in the temple and in my life.

I light each candle on my side of the temple, taking my time to soak in the beauty of the symbolism of the ceremony and to reflect on the journey that led me to her.

My mate.

Our souls may not have been one to begin with, like the candle represents, but our journey through life to find each other did strengthen us. Our trials forged each of us into a sharpened weapon, a soldier clad in iron mail. It made it harder for us to find each other and let the other in. But it made finding each other more meaningful, because we had to work for it. We had to fight for what we wanted, what our souls knew we needed before we were ready to admit it.

The light from the candles we ignite grows brighter with each of our steps closer to each other, an outward representation of how Cassandra has brightened my days and my heart with her sunshine spirit and her wildflower soul. Our love for each other blossomed even with the barbed wire exterior I presented to her when I was too damaged to realize what I felt for her was love.

We reach the last candle at the same time, and once again we join hands, both of us exhaling as we touch. Without words, we extend our sticks to the wick, igniting the large candle as one. I take hers from her and set them both on the pedestal before wrapping my arm around her waist.

The temple is aglow with candles, lighting up every inch, every alcove, spotlighting the carved architecture and the flowerseverywhere, but all I see is her. The addition of the golden light from the candles to the silver light of the moon and the stars penetrates straight through the sheer fabric of her gown, leaving little of her body to my imagination. I explore her with my free hand, gliding it over her subtle curves barely hidden by the almost sheer fabric.

“The wine,” she says with a gasp as I trail my fingers across the swell of her breasts, tracing the neckline of her gown. “We’re supposed to share it, to symbolize how we will share our hearts and our souls with each other.”

“I don’t want to let you go,” I whisper, aware of how whipped and needy I sound and not caring in the slightest.

“You don’t have to.” She smiles, running her hands over my bare torso before reaching for the glass.

She lifts it to her smiling pink lips and sips it, savoring the red wine as it slips into her mouth. Then she raises it to my mouth, tilting it for me to drink from. I arch my neck and take a sip, and a small drop falls from the corner of my lips, rolling down my throat. Cassandra darts forward, licking the wine away with a swipe of her tongue along my neck, making me groan and my dick harden more than it already is.

She sets the glass of wine on the pedestal without taking her mouth from my neck, teasing and taunting me with kisses and flicks of her tongue, focusing on my marking spot.

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