Page 86 of Which Witch is Willing?
To everyone’s astonishment,Nicholas Kingswood, first and arguably most insolent of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, he who conquered the world from atop a horse the color of his bloodlust;Conquesthis own big dick-swinging, over-ruling, civilization-wastingself,took his almost farcical wedding ceremony as seriously as if it were held in all the pomp and ceremony of Westminster Cathedral.With his dark hair slicked back and his powerful frame clad in a tux that might have been tailored for Gieves & Hawkes, he looked like a hot Bond Villain.
Standing in the garden’s arboretum, framed by a trellis strewn with autumn foliage in every earthen shade, he claimed Moira’s hand in front of a teary Sal.
The de Moray Mansion’s spires reached for a sky in which large, happy, lazy clouds were tugged in all directions by fragrant sea breezes. The trill of songbirds and the soft percussion of deciduous tree leaves in the gentle wind had been the only melodic accompaniment of the bride down the aisle. And even though Salvadore Malveaux’s “dearly beloved’s” sounded nothing like anything civilized society would recognize, the ceremony had been charming and, blessedly, short.
Moira had practiced her lovely vows with her sisters that morning, but by the time she had the third sentence out, the pregnancy hormones had taken over, and, sobbing, she shoved the paper she’d written them down on into Nick’s hands. He’d read them quietly with features softer than Aerin had ever seen them. Then, he folded them up, and tucked them into the pocket next to his heart.
His fingers shook when he slid a diamond the size of the Rock of Gibraltar onto Moira’s hand, and his voice rang strong and resonant as he recited his vows.
“I’d like to say I chose you, but there was never any chance of that. You exist. And so, I am conquered. Thank you for teaching me how to smile. How to appreciate the quiet moments and simple pleasures. My protection is unequivocal. My devotion is absolute. My love and commitment are unconditional. The future, while uncertain, belongs to us, to our family, and my only reason for existing now is to fight for the chance for an eternity with you at my side. You have given me your hand in marriage this day, and in return I give you my life, my very heart to keep.”
A crisp, perfectly folded handkerchief appeared in Aerin’s hand, pressed there by long, elegant fingers.
“I don’t need this,” Aerin sniffed. “I’m not crying.” She cleared her throat. Then blinked the burning away, which only made the tears fall faster.
“I know, darling.” Julian’s shoulder leaned more heavily against hers as he pressed a soft kiss into her hair.
She clutched the handkerchief and brought it to her nose and did not blow. But inhaled. He smelled of bergamot, ambergris, and that indefinable perfume only found in the pages of well-loved books. Aerin breathed in, and in, and in, wanting to lock the scent of him inside of her lungs and never release it. To keep him.
Always.
But, even though some of her tears were happy ones, she mostly wept for what they might not have for much longer.
For what they might all lose in the end.
“And now!” The twang of Uncle Sal’s patois jarred her into the moment. “By the power invested to me by the Highway 90 Holy Serpent Mega Church of Stumps Bayou, Orleans Parrish, Louisiana, I pronounce you two hitched! You may kiss your bride.”
Nick and Moira’s kiss was full of teeth, as they were smiling too hard to properly pucker.
Red, whose bald spot in the back of his head had been staring at Aerin through the entire affair, turned to Little Earl and queried. “Speakin’ of serpents, how come there ain’t none at this here ceremony?”
“Dunno,” Little Earl shrugged a big shoulder. “I offered to go catch us some, but Moira Jo said we can’t.”
“Hardly seems like a legal weddin’ without ‘em,” Red tutted, swiping his red, sweat-ringed trucker cap from his back pocket to return to its eternal perch over his ears. “Maybe it’s on account of that one-time Mookie’s pecker done near dropped of when one of them fuckers got ‘im in the biscuits.”
Mookie tensed as straight as a divining rod. “You shut your whore mouth Redford Alouicious Meredith Mcgillicutty or I’ll gut you like a pike and pickle your innards in mason jars.” He turned in his chair to glance shyly back at Aerin. “Don’t mark them none, all my dangly business is right where it ought to be.”
“Congratulations,” she said with a sour smile.
Julian leaned forward, bringing his aquiline nose close to Mookie’s porcine one. “If you want your pendant glands to remain so, you will refrain from mentioning it in the presence of my woman.”
Mookie blanched, blushed, and then turned some strange shade of puce, but to his credit he narrowed his beady eyes and said, “I am going to turn around now, but it ain’t because I’m afeard of you.”
“You should be, mortal, for a creature does not exist as venomous as I.” Beneath Julian’s near porcelain skin, veins of darkness surged and slithered before disappearing in the blink of an instant.
Each of the men surged to their feet and retreated toward the married couple.
Aerin hoped the shit in their pants was only figurative.
“Neat trick,” she muttered.
He merely shrugged.
“Your woman? I never said I was your woman.”
“Neither did you deny it,” he challenged.
It was her turn to be silent. She looked on as Claire and Tierra rushed to Moira kissing her cheeks and showering her with love and laughter. The uncles were next, lined up like misfit toys to pay their respects to the couple and whoop and holler their happy wishes.
