Page 32 of Marrying My Moth Lady

“That’s my boy,” my dad says with a laugh. “Poetic when he’s passionate and bitter as a penny when he’s bored. This Millie must be extraordinary.”

“I’m sorry you haven’t met her, but I can’t introduce you now,” I whisper. “I’m up to my eyeballs in alligators—”

“If you love her, so will we. Invite her to dinner the minute you get home from your honeymoon,” Mom says.

Half-moth or not, my parents will love Millie. Besides a few bug-lover jokes at my expense, they won’t bat an eye at her wings, antenna, or glowing eyes. Just my loving her will be enough for them to accept her into our family. We never put on airs.

My desire to jump social classes led me down the dark path of greed. I saw the Carters’ wealth as better than my roots. Eventually, I’d be ashamed of myself as Amber’s husband. Dad would see through our farce marriage too…like he will see how much I love Millie. Ideas morph into plans…tint my truck windows…park in my parent’s garage…

“There won’t be a honeymoon, but you will understand when you meet Millie. I can’t wait to bring her over. For now, I’m asking you to trust me—”

Amber appears from the bridal suite, dressed in casual clothes. Her makeup is heavy with glitter, and someone braided flowers into her hair. Glad the makeup artist and hairstylist didn’t lose a day’s pay because of this fiasco. The fewer innocent bystanders, the better. Everything’s working out, so my guts wait for the shoe to drop. My last run to the restroom emptied everything I ate this month. Unless my body decides to add puking bile to my wedding agenda, I’m done with ‘stomach episodes.’

“There’s the quintet’s prelude. We’ll seat ourselves. The ceremony is about to start,” Dad says, following my gaze. “Just know that we love you and have your back. No matter what. We’re proud of you, son.”

My throat clogs with love with my parents’ support. I’m so fortunate. Mom and Dad never had the billions of the Carter family, but we had each other. Maybe that’s why riches always seemed out of reach…I didn’t appreciate what I had. Millie and Amber don’t have the family connections I do. With Rash’s help, Amber will build those bonds with her new baby and the motorcycle club. Millie…Lordy, I can’t wait for my parents to shower her with love.

“Thanks, Mom and Dad,” I say as I slip out of their embrace and into the bridal suite.

Millie May

“It’s capital indecent, not to mention bad luck for you to be in here. But I’m more nervous than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs,” I say when Horus closes and locks the door behind him.

“I make my own luck,” he says, fishing through my layers of veil.

“Your grey suit is handsome, but I must ask why you aren’t wearing a tux,” I say, backing against a wall. His frantic hands excite me, and my eyes glow. I want to start something we can’t finish.

“Grey is for outdoor weddings and public niceties. Tuxedos are for seducing,” he whispers. “I wear a tuxedo for no eyes but yours.”

He sweeps the mass of tulle to the side with his forearm and holds it against the wall over my head. I’m pressed between him and the drywall. Everywhere I look, there’s more of him. The heady aroma of his cologne, soap, and natural scent drowns me. He tips my chin up. My eyes flutter closed and my lips part at his silent command. This is what makes today worth the danger. More than a treehouse, Horus’s embrace is my haven. No social norms or popular opinion hold him hostage. He will fight off an army to keep me safe and is mean enough to follow through.

“No matter what happens, I will remember your beauty in this moment. Your surrender to my kiss is stunning. I’m a fool to believe I deserve you,” he says before capturing my mouth in a toe-curling kiss.

He’s rough, demanding, and unapologetically aggressive. Ceremony or not, he knows I’m already his. He spears his tongue into my mouth and feasts on my flavor. His free hand slides around my waist and dips to grab my butt beneath my corset. No matter how hard he grinds into me, my poofy dress prevents me from enjoying him. As his hands roam over my breasts and torso, the corset ribs hold my shape. I can’t feel a thing. Blasted dress is worse than a chastity belt!

“I hate leaving you alone when danger surrounds us. When Amber left, I cursed her. Someone needs to look after you,” he says with a growl against my lips.

“Isn’t that my husband’s job?”

“You bring out every protective instinct in me. I hardly recognize myself, but I like who I’m becoming,” he replies with nips to my bottom lip. “I hope you enjoy becoming Mrs. Mills.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask what he means by ‘becoming Mrs. Mills.’ Does he refer to the wedding? Because the pit of dread brewing within my corset is something I can’t wait to shed—the fear and its container. Does he refer to the rest of my lonely life, secure in my treehouse? Because, frankly, I can’t imagine going back to my blissful existence after a taste of romance. The void left behind would swallow me whole. I want to build a life beside him.

I never hated my moth traits more than I do right now.

My wings weigh heavily on my back. The flower crown itches my antennae, filling my brain with scratchy sounds. My sensitive eyes adjusted to my veiled cocoon, so the brightfluorescent lights scald them. If I were a typical lady, we’d have no questions. After the ceremony, our families would dance and eat cake. We’d travel somewhere exotic and expensive, but never leave the hotel bed. Then we’d move into his apartment where I’d keep house like the little wifey…waiting to get pregnant.

Do I dare dream of a child with boyish smiles and angular features when there’s a fifty percent chance they could be born with antennae and wings?

“Where are you? I’m holding a shell,” he whispers against my cheek.

“I want to bury myself in your arms and hide,” I confess.

He rips the blue handkerchief from his grey jacket pocket. He removes his jacket and drapes it over a chair. With the handkerchief over his shoulder, he gathers me closer. My face rubs against the barrier, leaving a smear of foundation.

“Cry,” he whispers. He scrunches the veil into an opaque cloud between our faces and the door. “I’ll look out for others, hold you tightly, and keep you safe. You can let go in my arms…just don’t disappear on me. Don’t lose your faith in us.”

I lose my composure and sob. Stress pours off me and soaks his dress shirt. I cry for Amber and Mr. Carter’s broken family. I cry for Rash’s love for a woman who doesn’t appreciate him. I cry for my parents who miss escorting me down the aisle. Mostly, I cry for the dream life too high for little me to reach. As I tremble, he tightens his arms to support my weight. He whispers sweet nonsense against my temple between tiny kisses. I cry until my anxiety drops to nothing.

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