Page 3 of Forbidden Vows

So wet. I’m so wet. Wait—it’s my cheek that’s wet. A cool dampness presses against my face, making my eyes flutter open.

No!

It was a dream. Well, a dream of a perfect memory. Hazy but real, the dream I just had was exactly how it happened: the two of us sinning, damning our souls to hell in the back of the church after his brother’s wedding.

It happened. I try to make myself forget. But it did.

It's too bad the dream stopped before my vivid memory got to the delicious part.

Sitting up, I stretch and yawn, returning to reality, needing to shake off the worst night of my life. I’ve never couch-surfed, and I don’t want to start now. Glancing down at my temporary bed sofa, I find the puddle that woke me up, ruining the best part of the memory and Seraphina’s emerald silk throw pillow.

The gorgeous hand-stitched creation was a token from her recent all-expenses-paid work trip to Nepal.

She’s going to kill me.

Pressing my sock-covered feet into the fluffy faux fur rug, I stand, neatly folding the blanket I borrowed and laying it over the back of the sofa. I’ll take the pillow cover to be dry-cleaned after work. Maybe I can flip it over to hide the drying drool spot.

“Sorry, Seraphina,” I mumble.

With the elegance of a queen, she breezes into the room, a red ribbon pinning her curls back, her multicolored silk robe billowing behind her. “Sorry for what?” She eyes my pajamas. “Wearing that goofy-ass outfit inside my beautiful apartment? I know you dumped a man last night, but you didn’t have to let yourself go that quickly.”

I glance down at my pink elephant-printed long-sleeve onesie. Is it really that bad? “No, for showing up unannounced last night. Let me go down to the corner and get your hazelnut latte to thank you for letting me stay.”

“That’s okay,” she waves away my offer with a flick of her diamond-tipped hot-pink acrylic nails, coming to stand before me. “You’re the one going through the break-up. I should be buying you drinks. But they will be way stronger than espresso to celebrate when I do.”

My life is over. What is there to be happy about? Is she going to burn my onesie?

I eye her with suspicion. “Celebrate what?”

“I held back the first time you and Keith broke up. Now that it’s official, I can finally tell you.” She holds a hand up to her mouth like she’s whispering a secret. “I never did like him.”

“I figured.” People in my circle only really tolerated him.

“Sorry, but I don’t suffer fools. And he’s a fool.” She shakes her head, sinking onto the couch. “Cheating on a good girl like you? Mistake. You’re wifey material.”

“Thanks,” I stand there, hovering over her in my humiliation, shame, and pink elephants.

Seraphina holds her phone, and a notification erupts. I see her face transform; her eyes widen, and she gasps. Without looking away, she points a pink fingernail at the couch, commanding, “Sit down.” Her brow furrows as she focuses on her phone.

Instead of sitting, I pace. “Why do people tell me to sit down when they have bad news? You know I can’t relax unless I’m standing or cleaning something.”

“Sit your pink onesie-self down,” she says authoritatively, pointing even more emphatically at the sofa cushion. “Now.”

“Fine.” I sit beside her on the sofa.

Seraphina is my opposite, the Alpha to my shrinking, barely a Beta violet. The only similarities that first brought us together are our unusual names and love of word puns.

“Sweet girl.” She raises her phone toward me. “This is going to rock your world. And not in a good way, I’m afraid.”

After a bad breakup, I just woke up in a puddle of my own drool. What could be worse?

“Seraphina.” I stare at her tense face. “What’s on your phone?”

She stays silent, yet the intensity in her gaze compels me to reach out and grab the phone from her.

I hear a moan coming from the video before I glance at the screen.

And seeme…

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