Page 35 of Broken Arranged Mate
“So you can carry a piece of your past with you into the future,” Kira says. “A reminder that Ambersky will be with you, no matter where you go.”
I’m biting my tongue hard enough to draw blood, an attempt to keep the tears from coming.
“Iknewit,” Emaline says, reaching into her pocket and producing a Q-tip for me to dab at my eyes. I do, trying not to ruin the makeup, then the girls help me into the dress.
When I see myself in the mirror—hair curled softly over my shoulders, eyes shining and brought out by the blue flowers on the dress, the sheer lace with the little floral pattern stretching down my arms—I feel more myself than I have at any of the parties leading up to it.
“Thank you,” I catch my sister-in-law’s arm, pull her to me, and wrap her in a hug, not caring if it messes up my makeup or hair.
“Remember that first night I was back? Over at Dorian’s place?” she whispers back, “And you came over to bring me some clothes? You told me to call you if I needed anything. When I was back here, you were the first person on my side. And I’m on yours. I’llalwaysbe on yours, Ash.”
Now I’m crying again, and Emaline has to fish out more Q-tips. She hugs me, too.
“You took me over the border when nobody else would have,” she says, squeezing me. “You’re so fearless, Ash, and you inspired me to stand up for myself.”
Veva squeezes me, gives me her own pep-talk, then Raegan is standing there, holding her hand out awkwardly again. We both laugh as I take it and give it a solid pump.
“I’m glad that we’re going to be sisters,” she says, looking like even she’s a bit choked up. “I’ve always wanted one, and you’re more than I could have asked for.”
“We have to stop,” I say, laughing at how ridiculous I feel. “Or I’m going to cry again.”
With that, Dorian arrives at the door. “Are you—”
He stops when he sees me, and it’s like time slows down. For the first time today, I feel the pressing weight of absence—no Gramps, no parents. Just me and Dorian, like it’s been for a long time.
“You’re really something,” Dorian finally says. “Gramps would have loved to see this.”
I manage to get through that without crying again, then Dorian has his arm through mine, and we’re approaching the entrance to the large bay at the top of the watchtower. It feels dramatic, climbing the steps in my dress, the train trailing out behind me on the stairs below.
When my brother and I are standing outside the doors, we can hear the swell of the music. He squeezes my hand, which is looped around his arm.
“Good?” he asks, and I can see in his eyes that if I wanted to turn and run right now, even after all the parties and promises to our people, he would run right alongside me.
“Good,” I whisper, the word coming out choked, not from fear of what’s next, but the realization that Dorian and I will never be like this again—just two kids, whispering in a stairwell.
The doors open, and when I see the inside of the space, I suck in a deep, surprised breath.
Oren did it.
He accomplished my vision—the flowers lining the ceiling, strung with fairy lights. Every single one of the bulky control centers is gone, opening up the room. Light from thesetting sun shines in through the glass, coating the room in orange and purple.
Everyone in the room is standing, staring at me, but the only person in the room I can see is him, wearing a deep emerald suit with a tiny, floral pocket square that perfectly matches my dress. The green of his matches the stems on mine, and I feel like a pair, put together by the people who love us most.
Lined up perfectly.
My mate.
And in the next second, everything goes wrong—a hot, wet slick forms between my legs, and I know without a fraction of a doubt that everyone in the room can smell it.
My heat is coming. I’m standing here in my wedding dress, in front of everyone, and the sight of Oren Blacklock in his suit has just sent me into my heat.
Instantly, Veva is at my side, whispering something and setting her hand on my arm. I realize, with a start, that she wasn’t at the front of the room, where she was supposed to be, but rather waiting for me right here.
“Don’t worry about it,” she whispers, and I feel the flow of her magic working on me. “Kira was prepared. This happens to a lot of omega brides, so we were ready. Kira laced your drink earlier with a low-grade scent-blocker in case this happened, so it wouldn’t be obvious to anyone except the people really close to you.”
“What are you doing?” I whisper back, acutely aware of how Dorian can hear all of this, and how everyone in the room is staring at us.
“Quick spell,” she says, already stepping back, “to numb the symptoms until later.”
