Page 125 of Vendetta Vows

I don't break the kiss as she guides me inside her.

And when I start to move, all I care about is the taste of surrender on her tongue, and the beating rhythm of the trust in her heart.

Our fingers intertwine together and I know that nothing in this world can take her from me.

Myzarechka. My little dawn.

32

AURORA

I standstock-still as Lauren makes one final adjustment to my wedding gown, her pins darting in and out of the delicate fabric with practiced precision. The assistants flutter around me like anxious butterflies, smoothing barely visible wrinkles and adjusting the veil's placement behind me.

"Almost perfect," Lauren murmurs, stepping back to assess her work. "You can breathe now, dear."

Can I? My lungs feel pinched, and not just from the fitted bodice.

The makeup artist tilts my chin up, dabbing one last touch of blush along my cheekbones. "There. Absolutely stunning."

When they finally allow me to look in the mirror, I barely recognize myself. The woman staring back at me looks like she belongs on the cover of a bridal magazine. Radiant, ethereal, and completely unlike the terrified prop assistant who critiqued movie scripts in dark alleys just a few weeks ago.

"You look beautiful," one of the assistants breathes.

I do look beautiful.

The dress hugs my body before cascading to the floor in elegant waves. My hair is swept into an intricate updo with a few tendrils left loose to frame my face. My makeup is light, helping enhance my face instead of reshaping it into a mask that I don't recognize.

But I'm also aware of just how alone I am.

A wave of sadness crashes over me, unexpected and vicious.

It should be mom who fusses over my veil. Dad should be pacing nervously somewhere, rehearsing the speech he'd give before walking me down the aisle. My little brother should be making inappropriate jokes with Hannah to help lighten the mood.

Instead, there's just me.

Aurora Castellanos. Or rather, Jamie Fields wearing Aurora Castellanos's face.

Why am I doing this again?

For protection, my mind answers immediately.For safety.

But is it really safety when I'm marrying into a world where fifteen-year-old girls talk about death without blinking? Where families use daughters as bargaining chips? Where people disappear without a trace?

I close my eyes, remembering Ruslan's hands on my body, the whispered "zarechka" in my ear, and the way he held me against his calming heartbeat as the sun rose.

The way we made love yesterday in these very gardens, when he promised me that it doesn't matter if I don't know this world. Just knowing him is enough.

There's safety there, isn't there? In his arms?

But Liliya's warnings echo in my head: There is no safety in this world.

The door opens, and I turn to see Daria standing there, resplendent and sharp in her dark blue dress that speaks of dignity and tradition.

"Is the bride ready?" she asks, her eyes softening as they meet mine.

I take one final deep breath. "I am."

Daria leads me down a flower-lined path, her steps measured and sure while mine falter with each passing moment. The garden around us bursts with carefully arranged beauty. Roses and lilies frame an aisle I never thought I'd ever walk down.

---