Page 2 of My Hexed Honeymoon

Yeah, me too, buddy. I’d rather go find that snake to play with than spend a single evening with you.

Heat darts through me as my gaze catches on his hands, flexing and relaxing at his side. His knuckles are slightly raw from his earlier brawl, and something about the bloody, ragged skin has me imagining him putting those destructive hands on me—but in the name of pleasure, not pain.

Fine. Maybe one evening wouldn’t be so bad.

His golden-brown skin catches the late afternoon light while deep-set, blackest of brown eyes watch me with guarded detachment. His onyx hair is neatly styled, but a rebellious strand curls onto his forehead, a betrayal of the control he so desperately clings to.

Anyway, that’s what I’ve picked up on about my groom during these past twenty or so minutes I’ve known him.

While Diego technically won the physical battle against his best friend and former alpha, Conall, he appears a bit lost. Like a puppy who’s bit off more than he can chew but forced to finish the meal anyway.

If I wasn’t too fixated on watching the light go out of my own life, I might’ve pitied him—actually pitied a mangy werewolf who thinks brute force is what makes him the toughest.

Sadly, it’s a sentiment my mother shared. Brains would conquer brawn in the right situation; I just needed to figure out what that situation was and find it.

Any other evening, maybe I could have a chuckle over the irony.

Here we stand, a witch and a werewolf, picture perfect from a distance.

But zoom in, and we’re a reluctant bride and a shifty groom, shackled by duty and magic. Not celebrating a beginning but mourning a chance at finding a partner who truly loves and cherishes us. A partner who’ll make the cruel world feel a little less lonely.

“I will,” Diego says, and my heart hammers harder in my chest. Are we already to the part where we say I do?

I’ve always loved that part of supernatural ceremonies. We’re not saying “I do” in the present tense, but “I will” in the sense we’re promising forever.

Forever.The word echoes through my head like a resounding gong while my gut drops down to the bejeweled heels on my feet. Amethysts, garnets, sapphires, and emeralds wink in the twinkling lights, each of them a reminder that this union serves a mystical purpose.

The bell sleeves of my dress billow around me with every little nervous shift, constantly drawing focus to the antique lace that truly is strikingly beautiful. Flowers are woven through my hair, each of them given to me by one of my coven sisters.

Dressed like the princess I am, a doll improperly trained to do the evil queen’s bidding.

If I refuse, that evil queen who masqueraded as my mother would make an example out of me, and the human veterinarian dies.

Bitterness wells within me, caustic and soul-destroying. While she’ll use my empathy to coerce me into this marriage, she also views it as a weakness, and I’m so sick of losing on every single side.

“Natalia Burroughs of the Oldenwilde Clan, will you take Diego De la Cruz, alpha of the Bridgewater Pack, to be your fated mate, bound by moon and magic, till your souls depart this realm?”

If I agree to the outlined terms, I surrender myself to a man who sees me as nothing more than a breed mate. A means to an end and an oven to put a bun in.Ew.

Pinpricks of pain fire up the back of my neck. Mother’s glare, with a side of witchcraft. I don’t have to look at her spot in the front row to know she’s glowering, willing me into compliance. Her oppressive presence has cast a shadow over my entire life, extra shady and inescapable.

No one crossed Andromeda, High Priestess of the Oldenwilde Coven. She’d orchestrated this entire arrangement and, as she reminded me countless times through the years, will absolutely not tolerate defiance.

A cold sweat breaks out, fear sending chill bumps up and down my spine. I’ve fought her before, and it never ends well. Every attempt to push back was met with biting magic and crushing consequences. I was always too soft, too weak. That’s what she’d told me over and over again.

And now, here I am, proving her right. I don’t know what terrifies me more—this life I never wanted, or the fact that I’m too afraid to fight for a different one.

Maybe it won’t be so bad. After all, being bargained and bred to the werewolf gets me out from under her thumb.

If only it didn’t feel like just another cage, one without a door.

But if Diego De la Cruz can power through and vow himself to medespitethe permanently disgusted look on his face, I suppose I can do the same to him.

The officiant raises an eyebrow at me, waiting. The spell-bound contract hovers in the air, sparking with shimmering magic that’s eager to seal my fate.

“I will,” I say, inhaling sharply at the dizzying current that ripples through the air and gives me a jolt.

Something about it causes the glowing, astral threads that weave the fabric of the universe to blink out like an overpoweredbreaker that needs to be reset. Pressure builds and pops in my head, and then my astral power’s returned to me, the lifeforce that connects us all flickering to life before me once again, even stronger than before.

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