Page 21 of The Silent Note

Zane knows nothing about those words.

Frankly, neither do I.

This marriage isn’t about any of those virtuous things anyway.

“I do,” Zane says confidently, his eyes lingering on my lips.

But there’s no kiss.

At least, not yet.

Instead, we’re led to a table around the side.

A marriage certificate rests there.

Zane’s eyes follow me as I read the lines, and I notice him waiting for protest. A marriage ceremony is one thing. A legal document is another.

But I don’t hesitate.

I scribble my name on the form. Hand to pen.

Back in front of the chapel, I accept the ring Cadence slips into my palm. Ring to finger.

Body on auto-pilot.

Eyes on the wall behind Zane’s head.

Numbness is my refuge.

My mind is my escape.

From somewhere around me, I hear the priest say, “you may kiss the bride”

The space between Zane and I shrinks in size. Thick fingers, calloused from years of wielding drumsticks, clutch my chin and tilt my face up.

Candles flicker against his cheekbones, teasing at a jaw line that’s a harsh slash of angles and symmetry.

I try really hard not to peek at Zane’s mouth.

A mouth I’ve tasted.

A mouth that’s tasted… way more of me than it should.

As he stares back with a dark, half-lidded gaze, I wonder why he’s stalling.Just kiss me and get it over with.

Zane shakes his head imperceptibly.

Like he heard me.

A refusal.

Instead of claiming my lips and ending the ceremony, one large hand frames my cheek. His attention shifts to my temple. Like a skater gliding over ice, he brushes back the veil that I’d intentionally tried to pull over as much of the gash as humanly possible.

My heart races inside my ribs and then climbs up my throat to pound an edgy beat.

The air in the chapel feels like fire, like oxygen burning on some type of fuel that I can’t name. That I wish I could snuff out.

Zane leans over and places a gentle kiss on my scar, a slight touch of his lips to my head that makes my blood pulse with pure anger and frustration.

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