Page 40 of Immortal Sins
Flames lick my ribs, the release effortless in the face of the anxiety that’s threatening to floor me.
Liquid silk bubbles into the air and glides across my skin. It feels fresh—but not cold—and weighs nothing. Black strips of cloth snake around my neck and leave my back and shoulders bare. Another wave rises from the seamstress’ hands, and a flowy skirt with a glamorous side slit flows down my thighs. Speckles of red and orange wisp in and out of view along the lengthy skirt, and the fabric flickers a little more with each movement.
“A dress sewn in night and fire. A potent, irresistible, but destructive union. I hope you shine bright before you burn to ashes, mortal.”
I raise a hand to the neck bow holding the dress in place and swallow hard. A demented Cinderella with her cruel, pessimistic Faerie godmother.
There’s still time to stop the wedding. This is ludicrous. Worst idea ever.
And yet, as I catch a glance of my reflection in the round, free-standing mirror, I love what I see.
A Fae princess.
Greed burns at the back of my throat.
Am I doing this for power? Who am I trying to impress? Dad would freak out, Allie would be appalled and Lydia…
An elusive smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. Given the chance, Lydia would totally be my maid of dishonor.
Mary nudges my side. “What do you want me to do with your hair?”
Black, purple, and red curls tumble around my face in smooth, glossy waves, and I grin. “Leave it.”
I will never be Fae, I have no magic glamor, but the hair is all me. It’s unique and wild and slightly crazy.
I squeeze my mother’s emerald pendant and shake out my shoulders. “I’m ready.”
The scent of overturned earth hangs thick in the labyrinth of tunnels that runs under the palace. The crackles of the torch lights soothe my fears of being swallowed by shadows, each corner luring me deeper inside the maze.
Mary guides me forward. Accessible through ornate passageways, the palace’s ceremonial hall is located below an immense Fae tree. Mary calls it the Hawthorn, a place of worship for their people.
The boys wait for me at the heart of the chapel.
Exposed rocks stick out of the walls of the interior chamber, and thick roots hang in beautiful swirly patterns above my head. Colorful lanterns hang from the nature-made chandelier.
One look at Cole stops my brain hamster cold in its tracks. The Fae prince I love is offering me the only immortality I can ever know, and I’m going to take it. Consequences be damned.
“That’s a dress fit for a queen,” Cole says, devouring me with his eyes.
Heat pools in my chest.
Mary clears her throat loudly and motions Cole aside. Despite her hushed tone, her disappointment is palpable.
I glide toward Flynn.
An elegant red jacket wraps around his shoulders, his hands linked at his front. The color highlights the tan he got over the last two days, his golden-white hair slicked back.
“If someone had said to me you would be the one to officiate my wedding…” I crack, trying to lighten the mood.
A raspy chuckle falls off his lips. “You and me both, Jules.”
I stand stock-still in front of him. “Did you just call me Jules?”
“It’s your name. You’ve said so about a thousand times.”
“You never listened.” Cole and Flynn refused to call me by my name formonths, but the blond Fae was even more stubborn than his prince in that annoying habit.
He shrugs. “I wanted you gone. Now, it’s never going to happen.”
