Page 5 of Wedded Witch

A thousand volts of lightning course through my body where our lips tentatively touch. Magic. She gasps and I have toswallow back a groan, wrestling down the urge to deepen the kiss and brand her as mine, as our bond snaps into place.

Mine.

With all these people watching, I have to keep it respectful. But the moment I get a taste of my wife, I’m obsessed.

She’s got me, hook, line and sinker.

Does she feel it too? The way we’re bonded together as more than just husband and wife?

We have a year to produce an heir, to secure the future of our families and the magical community. It’s a daunting task, but the way I’m feeling right now, I don’t even want to let her out of the bedroom for a year. At least.

As we walk back down the aisle, hand in hand after a kiss I have no right thinking about, I feel a strange sense of solidarity with her.

We step outside the chapel into the bright sunlight, and I lean in close, my voice low. “We’ll figure this out, Swyn. Together.”

She looks up at me, her eyes filled with scepticism and uncertainty. “I hope so,” she replies, her voice steady despite the tremor I can sense beneath it.

She’s so young. So young and undeniably gorgeous. Her dress showcases all of her luscious curves and my thoughts instantly go to tracing every line and dip with my lips, before I can stop myself.

I shouldn’t want…well, any of the thoughts I’m thinking. They’re not very protectiveorresponsible right now.

But she’s also strong. Maybe headstrong is the better word. But I admire it. Admire her.

After we pose for way too many awkward pictures, we make our way to the reception. I can’t help but think about the future. It’s uncertain and filled with challenges, but for the first time, I feel a spark of something more. A sense of purpose, perhaps.

Being married to Swyn might not be the worst thing ever.

On the drive over, in the back of the hired limousine, we don’t speak. My bride stares out of the window, and I stare at her.

Her long blonde hair cascades down her back in perfect ringlets, flashes of purple peek out from the underside when she moves a certain way. Her hands rest in her lap, but they’re fisted in the tulle skirts of her black dress and there’s a tense set to her shoulders. One I wish I could alleviate, if only I knew the right thing to say or do.

But I don’t. Because I don’t know this woman, I don't know how to comfort her. But I will. I will learn, and I’ll learn fast. Because she’s mine. And because I want to make this marriage between us real. I want not only to be someone who comforts her, but to betheone she comes to for everything. I want her to depend on me. To need and want me as much as I already do her.

At the reception, guests mingle, their laughter and chatter filling the air. Swyn and I are ushered to the head table, our seats adorned with intricate floral arrangements and delicate crystals, that catch the sunlight streaming in through the windows. It’s a stark contrast to the heaviness that still lingers in my chest, a reminder of the weight of our duty. Everything looks perfect though, and I guess that’s the point.

Appearances are everything.

I watch as Swyn interacts with the other guests, her facade of composure slipping slightly with each forced smile and polite conversation. It’s clear she’s not used to this kind of attention, this level of scrutiny. I can relate all too well, but know that she’ll have it worse.

The feast begins and plates of exotic dishes are brought out, each one more elaborate than the last. The wine flows freely, filling goblets and loosening tongues. And yet, despite thefestivities surrounding us, Swyn and I remain in our own little bubble of silence.

Finally, unable to bear the tension any longer, I turn to her. “Swyn,” I begin, my voice low enough to be heard only by her. “I know this isn’t what either of us wanted, but we have a year to make the best of it. To find a way out of this curse together.”

She looks at me, her eyes searching mine for any sign of deceit or manipulation. Finding none, she nods slowly. “I’ll do my part,” she says quietly. “For my family and for yours.”

Heat licks down my spine at her words and it’s so fucking inappropriate that I have to swallow down a groan.That’s not what she meant, asshole.

I clear my throat, pushing down the inappropriate thoughts that threaten to cloud my mind. Swyn deserves better than that, better than a husband with lustful intentions. Especially one so much older than she is.

“Thank you, Swyn,” I reply, my voice filled with sincerity. “We’ll make this work, I promise.”

She gives me a small smile, a glimmer of hope shining in her eyes before she returns her attention to the banquet laid out before us. The rest of the evening passes in a blur of music and laughter – our guests’, not mine or my wife’s – but underneath it all, the weight of our responsibilities looms heavy.

As the night draws to a close and the last of the guests bid their farewells, with knowing smirks and none too subtle winks and quips, Swyn and I find ourselves alone at last. The grand hall is dimly lit by flickering torches, casting dancing shadows on the ornate tapestries adorning the walls.

I walk over to where Swyn stands by one of the tall windows, looking out at the moonlit courtyard below. “It’s a beautiful night,” I say softly, joining her by the window.

She nods in agreement, her gaze fixed on the moon hanging low in the sky. “It is,” she replies, her voice distant and guarded.Or maybe she’s just distracted. Tired from the day. What do I know? This girl’s still a stranger to me.

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