Page 3 of My Hexed Honeymoon

It’s slightly dizzying, the rush of blood and the glittering auras of too many people and creatures hitting me at once.

Something’s wrong. Off somehow.

The golden threads are vibrating like a fly caught in a spider’s web, alerting me that my domain’s been invaded by an excess of supernatural creatures when I’m already painfully aware.

“You may now kiss the bride,” our officiant announces, and I narrow my eyes and glare at my groom, almost daring him to try.

Then all those golden threads twang, playing a discordant chord that threatens to ruin the harmony of the rest of the world.

At the same time, Diego’s posture stiffens, his nostrils flaring as he scents the air. All of the shifters are fidgeting and perking up noses and ears, the movement strangely canine even in human form.

My groom’s eyes dart toward the trees, his posture shifting from funereal to predatory.

Andromeda’s spine shoots stick straight, her long nails that she sharpens into talons digging into her silk-clad thighs.

Her aura blinks, her fear filtering into it like a cloud of smoke.

It billows to me, seeing my mother truly afraid in a way she rarely is, and chokes the air from my lungs. If the woman who’s orchestrated ghastly horrors in the name of power is scared, what does that mean for the rest of us?

It’s then I feel the icy cool wrongness, the way the golden fibers of the astral plane shrink away from the abyss of space left by the undead. The murmurs from the uneasy crowd ripple through the meadow in a wave, witches and wolves alike sensing the disturbance in their own way.

Emerging from the forest’s depths, individual shapes begin to peel away from the tree line and step into the grassy clearing.

Great. As if marrying a werewolf wasn’t bad enough, we have wedding crashers, and they’re the type who don’t come to party but for a blood bath.

The word rustles through the crowd like a leaf on the breeze, panic and anger edging the voices and striking fear into my soul.

Vampires.

CHAPTER TWO

Yeah,that tracks.

I’ve been alpha of the Bridgewater Pack for less than two hours and fucking vampires are traipsing through my forest.

While I’d love to claim that challenging Conall for the alpha position was completely altruistic, the truth is, I’ve craved the power and control that comes along with the position. Especially once he began dating the human, a big no-no in our world, whether you ask our pack members or the Grand Werewolf Council.

But I’d also seen the bond between him and Kerrigan. And it was the type of love that left my best friend willing to move mountains.

Willing to submit to me to secure a future with the veterinarian.

That type of love was all well and good for others, but I knew it wasn’t for me. I’d rather be completely in control of my senses and emotions, thank-you-very-much.

What I hadn’t expected was for the mantle that came along with being alpha to slam into me like a freight train. It hit harderthan Conall, harder than our training sessions, harder than anything I’ve ever experienced in my life.

The weight of everything that’s suddenly become my responsibility presses into my spine, coiling chains around my chest like they mean to drag me under. The safety of my pack rests on me now, and as I stare at the enshrouded witch I’ve just bound myself to, all I can think about is how much I already regret marrying Natalia Burroughs.

It’s nothing more than a means to an end; An alliance forged for my people.

If I didn’t know better—if I didn’t hate her on instinct after what she and her kind had done—I might’ve thought she was beautiful. Might have let my gaze linger on the white netting covering the golden curls that tumble over her shoulders and the defiant way her chin tilted up during the vows, as if daring me to be the one who said no.

But I do know better, and I’ll never let myself forget that not only did she and her mother kidnap Kerrigan and threaten our entire pack, but witches also murdered my family. Conall’s too. Back when we were barely old enough to understand what death meant, and the harsh reality left us with eternal scars.

The only reason we survived the brutal attack was because we hid. I’ve spent every day since regretting that I wasn’t stronger. Thinking that I should’ve fought despite being outmatched and outnumbered. Wishing I could’ve done something—anything.

Now I’ve sworn a supernatural oath to one of the deceitful creatures who enacted my family’s murder, and my stomach churns at the idea of living with her, too.

But the moment I said “I will,” ancient magic snapped our bond into place. Talia had given a sharp inhale, obviously feeling it too.

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