Page 97 of Demonic Prince

He kneels by me. “I am.”

“Do you, Scaldric, promise to surrender your heart to this woman? Do you promise to love and protect her as your wife?”

“I do.”

Lies. All lies.

“And do you, Pyrah, promise to surrender your heart to this man? Do you promise to love and obey him as your husband?”

Surrender. Obey.

I can’t do this. I can’t. Even though the enchantment demands that I respond. My stomach sours. I’m on the verge of vomiting.

“I do.” Magic tears the words from my throat like a sob.

If I can’t escape our wedding, I can kill him on our wedding night.

“Scaldric,” says the priestess, “you may unveil your bride and crown her as your wife.”

Bracing his knuckles on the marble, he pushes himself upright. At the same time, I grab his wrist and drag myself to my feet.

His smile chills the blood in my veins. “Stay on your knees.”

My fingers tighten around his wrist. Harder and harder, until I’m sure his bones ache. The priestess holds out the pillow with the bridal crown. The garnets glitter in the candlelight, as dark as blood. I focus on the gemstones and fight the pressure of the enchantment that clamps around my throat.

“Pyrah,” Scaldric commands. “Kneel.”

My legs betray me. I fall back to my knees, but defiance ignites inside me.

The doors to the temple bang open.

Wind whirls inside. Candles flicker and some of them are snuffed out. A demon enters the temple. His eyes burn like embers.

Rook.

He strides across the temple with the lethal grace of a predator.

“The Gray Prince.” Scaldric flings the words at him with cold fury. “You don’t belong here, you cambion bastard.”

Rook doesn’t even look insulted. Bored, even. “I’ve come for Pyrah.”

“How dare you interrupt our wedding?”

The demon glances at the bridal crown in the priestess’s trembling hands. Noticing, perhaps, that I still haven’t been crowned. His gaze drops to my wedding dress, where it traces the aellurium embroidery.

“Pyrah.” Rook’s gaze lingers on my red-veiled face. “Do you want to marry him?”

Marry me. Scaldric’s command echoes in my ears.

“Tell me,” Rook says.

The enchantment compels me to reply, though this time I do so willingly, with a flood of relief that overwhelms me.

“No.”

Little more than a whisper, it still echoes in the silence of the temple.

Scaldric goes rigid with barely concealed rage. “No one refuses me.”

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