Page 149 of Never Submit

I shift my weight from one foot to the other. The crowd is restless and muttering among themselves. Ready to get this show on the road. And hell, I’m with them. The faster we get this over with, the better it will be for me. I’ll slide the ring home and be done with it. Get on with my life and back to the pack that needs me.

A large part of me really wants to blame Noble. His shitty attitude toward this wedding was contagious. But thishas nothing to do with him and everything to do with me. He’s a damn fine beta, questioning me and my motives, forcing me to confront myself, to be a better leader for our pack.

Where is Noble now? Pissed at me. Not fulfilling his duties. My tie constricts tighter yet.

Behind me, the officiant clears his throat. The thrumming of my overactive heart is in time with my equally overactive imagination. Imagining all of the scenarios where the responsibility of lives doesn’t fall on my shoulders and I’m free to do anything I like.

Free to be with Ren, for instance.

The organ music swells. It’s time. Tension crawls up my spine and my shoulders bunch. Catarina rounds the corner, and I get my first glimpse of my bride. She’s wearing traditional white like she’s some kind of virginal offering ready to be sacrificed at the altar of peace. She’s not smiling, but it looks like she’s trying. Falling short and achieving a grimace instead.

She’s a vision in lace, though. Every hair on her head is curled to perfection, and the gown tailored to suit her slender form. The skirt is silk, draping to the floor, and it shifts when she walks, the two slits at the front of the dress showing off enticing glimpses of alabaster skin.

The rest of the pack rise from their seats in deference to her.

The two wolves Catarina chose to be a part of her bridal party, all a part of this old-fashioned and ridiculous circus, usher her onward, clutching two long-stemmed white roses with the thorns still attached.

She clutches a bouquet of white roses but there is nothing sweet in her eyes. No bloom there, only thorns. Shecatches my gaze and her eyebrows narrow at whatever she sees on my face.

She freezes me in place with her look.

No, this is wrong. The sight of her has me teetering, ready to black out. A strange ticking ramps up in my veins, and in a blink Catarina joins me on the dais with a frigid grin.

My mind fills with the image of Ren hanging off of my cock, those urges I wasn’t able to resist after all. I want to slam my head down on the altar behind the officiant and break it. I want to yell at Catarina to get back.

“You might try smiling,” she murmurs from the corner of her mouth. Too soft for anyone else to hear. “You're not going anywhere, Torin.”

A sudden ripple runs through the crowd. I jerk around to see what’s going on, only to have a flash of pain as Catarina’s nails bite into my chin. Forcing my gaze back to her, and this time her grin is more like a viper’s strike.

“What’s the matter?” she hisses. “Having second thoughts?”

Nothing but.I suck air in through my nostrils, but a smile refuses to come. There’s nothing except a deep and yawning terror that this is the wrong thing to do.

“Snap out of it, Torin. Thisishappening. You’re fine.”

I’m so fucking far from fine it’s not even funny. There’s a dark chasm opening beneath my feet that threatens to swallow me.

And then through the darkness, I recall a small shred of light. The first glimpse of the sun after years of nighttime and I almost shut it out entirely. I almost rejected the one good thing in my life that nothing can corrupt. Not even my own stupidity.

It’s my wedding day and yet Ren fills my mind to the point where it’s impossible to blot her out. I’ve told myself this is all about the Moonstone, the crystal that was absorbed through her skin and allows her to shift. I’ve deluded myself that I’m only after that one thing, when actually…

It’s always been about her.

And it’s too hard to keep myself or my feelings contained anymore.

Out of breath, panting, my heart racing painfully, the mating bond—the singular thing I’ve told myself doesn’t really exist outside of my fantasies—flares through me with such force I want to drop to my knees. The connection snaps into place and leaves me no choice but to acknowledge its presence, because it’s everything.

I haven’t wanted to go through with this wedding for a number of reasons, but this is one of them, the biggest one.

Slowly, too slowly, I surface through the devastating emotional bond connecting me to that not-so-human woman. The one I’ve been fighting against for so long it feels almost unnatural to accept it now. Except it’s there, undeniable, unmistakable.

Catarina is glaring at me. Hissing. “Torin!”

“I’m sorry,” I finally say, my voice coming out strangled and raspy. “I need more time. Can we pause for a few minutes?”

I have to think. I have to figure out how to get through this, how to salvage what I can with the Briar pack. I can’t breathe. I can’t think for the wrongness of this moment. Am I seriously going to back out of the wedding? Now?

Do I have a choice?

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