Deadly Oath

26. Sabrina

26

SAbrINA

E xactly a week later, my wedding day dawns bright, sunny, and chilly. Marie and Daphne show up at my house at noon on the dot, ready to fuss over me for the ceremony. Marie brings something else, too—a gorgeous white fur stole that I stare at in surprise.

“My mother got married on Christmas,” she explains. “This was hers. I thought you could wear it until we get to the church—for your something old. And borrowed,” she adds with a small laugh.

“I brought you something, too,” Daphne says with a smile. “Blue, and borrowed as well.” She takes out a small drawstring bag from her purse, and upends it on my dresser. Inside are two vintage earrings—dark blue sapphires set in twisted gold halos.

“They don’t match your ring,” she says apologetically. “But I thought you might like them.”

“I love them,” I tell her sincerely, picking them up and looking at each one. “They’re perfect.”

“Oh, good,” Daphne says, clearly relieved. “Now, let’s get you ready for your wedding.”

I already showered and blow-dried my hair, and now Daphne and Marie go into full hair-and-makeup team mode. In what feels like no time at all, they have my hair curled in thick, fluffy waves and light makeup done, my lids washed in champagne shadow, and a perfect nude lip applied. Daphne hands me the earrings, and I slip them into my ears, before Marie brings me the dress.

After purchasing it, we’d gone to a lingerie store in Louisville, where I’d picked out something for my wedding night. I remember running my fingers over the lace and silk, wondering what Kian would think when he saw me in something that I’d picked out, especially for him. The other times we’ve been together, it’s been unplanned. Moments of passion that had nothing to do with carefully picked underwear or thinking ahead. Except for the last time. I shiver as I remember it—I have a feeling that Kian had been thinking for some time, before that, what he would do if he had reason to punish me.

I chose a pair of white lace panties, with a small ribboned bow at the back, and a lace bralette with a matching bow at the cleavage to go under my dress. I slipped them on just before Marie and Daphne got here, under the robe I’m wearing. Daphne lets out a teasing whistle as I slide the robe off and step into my wedding dress.

“Kian is going to love that,” Daphne assures me, as Marie helps me into the dress. She goes to get my veil while Marie zips and buttons the back, arranging my hair around it until both of them are satisfied.

“There,” she says, stepping back with Marie as I turn to look at my reflection in the mirror above my dresser.

A bride looks back at me. I look exactly like the fairytale princess that I envisioned when I tried the dress on at the bridal shop, and I feel my eyes mist over as I look at my reflection. It’s everything I could have wanted, and I turn, giving both Marie and Daphne a grateful look.

“Thank you for all your help,” I tell them, running my hands over the flowers on the skirt of my dress. “This is perfect.”

It still all feels surreal. A week and a half ago, I didn’t even have marriage on my mind. I’d spent most of my life up until a very short time ago thinking often about who would be picked for me to marry, whether I would have any kind of happiness, what I could do to make my life good even with a husband that had been picked for me. And then, after I arrived here in Rivershade, all of that went away. I had no idea if I would ever get married at all. If I even wanted to, left to my own devices.

And then Kian came along. Our marriage is meant to be one of practicality—but if I’m being honest, it means more than that to me. And even though I did ask him for an out, if this didn’t work, I’m less upset than I should be that he refused to give me one.

This is fast. It’s a whirlwind. But I don’t feel the urge to run away that I think I should. I feel—hopeful.

Which is how I think someone is supposed to feel, on their wedding day.

We all head outside, where Daphne’s car is waiting. She and Marie help me into the backseat, tucking my voluminous skirt around me and spreading it out over the seat next to me so it won’t wrinkle, and Marie hands me the bouquet of flowers that we picked out yesterday and put in water so that they wouldn’t wilt, now wrapped in blue ribbon. What I had planned to be my ‘something blue’ before Daphne gifted me the earrings.

The flowers are gorgeous, a spray of yellow sunflowers and dark red and orange chrysanthemums, surrounded by leafy green filler. I set the bouquet gently in my lap, feeling my heart start to race in my chest as we drive towards the small church at the edge of town.

In less than an hour, I’ll be Kian’s wife.

Daphne parks the car, and she and Marie come around to help me out, arranging my skirt as I step out of the car. They’re both wearing dresses that they already had—Marie is wearing a dark red wrap dress that she said she bought for a holiday party a few years ago that Greg’s company threw, and Daphne is wearing a pretty gold sheath dress that she had bought for an anniversary trip. Marie’s hair is down, in waves that make her look altogether younger and prettier than she usually does in her jeans and ponytails, and Daphne put hers up in an elegant twist. They both look the part of bridesmaids, and my heart fills with warmth again, thinking of the effort they’ve made.

I haven’t known either of them all that long, but they’ve tried hard to make this day a success for me, whatever reservations they might have. I can’t begin to say what that means to me.

The church itself is small, a white-boarded building that looks as if it might have been there for a century, potted plants and flowers lining the stone steps that we walk up. If I’d been married back home, I would have had my wedding at the Holy Trinity church, a bigger spectacle than this. But this feels quiet, cozy, and something that feels right for where I am now.

For what Kian and I are together.

When the doors open, I hear a single piano player start to play the wedding march. I see Kian at the altar, standing alone with only the preacher, wearing a tailored dark grey suit that looks much more expensive than what I would have expected. That makes me feel something, too—thinking that he’s put so much effort into this wedding. He’s spent more money than I would have thought would be comfortable for him, dipping into his savings probably, to make this day everything that he can make it, and to give me a beautiful ring as well.

Only someone who really cared for me would go to those lengths, when there’s no one else to impress with it.

I keep my eyes fixed on him as I walk down the aisle behind Marie and Daphne, the music fading into the background as I look at Kian’s handsome face. There’s something eager in his eyes, possessive, and it sends a warm flood of desire through me that feels entirely inappropriate for where we are.

Marie and Daphne cut off to one side as I reach Kian, standing in the pew as I turn to face my husband-to-be. Kian’s gaze sweeps over me, and I can see the desire on his face, too.

“Ready?” he asks, and I nod .

The vows are the easy part. We recite them both, and I hear the way Kian seems to savor them, making these promises to me as if it makes him happy, too. It means more to him than just a way of keeping me safe, too, I think—I can hear it in the way he repeats his part of the vows, in the way his eyes rake over me possessively, as if he can’t wait to say I do , and have me be his.

He slides the diamond band onto my finger, and for a brief second, it seems to press down against my knuckle hard—hard enough to bite into my skin a little, and hurt. I flinch back, wincing, and Kian smiles.

“Sorry,” he says softly, and I swallow, pushing it out of my head as I slide his band onto his finger as well. I can tell that he’s eager to be finished with the ceremony, and take me home.

When the preacher says you may kiss the bride , his arm goes around my waist before the words are fully out of the other man’s mouth, pulling me in and trapping my veil against my back as Kian’s mouth crashes down on mine. The veil tugs at my hair, and I feel a rush of heat, remembering the feeling of Kian’s fist wrapped in my hair as he thrust into me in bed. My knees go weak, and I reach up, gripping the front of Kian’s suit jacket as his tongue sweeps against my lips.

For a moment, I think he might deepen the kiss. But the preacher clears his throat, and Kian pulls back, grinning as my cheeks flush hot. From the pew next to us, Marie and Daphne are clapping and laughing.

“Let’s get that marriage license signed,” Kian says with a grin. “And then we’ll go and get those pictures taken, and go get dinner, the four of us.”

Daphne had offered to take pictures of us, since she has a nice camera, a hobby that she’s picked up over the years. I was happy to say yes, privately liking the idea of photos taken by a friend instead of the kind of stiff, professional ones that I would have had in my old life. She and Marie both come up and sign the marriage license, and then Kian pulls me into his arms, kissing me again before we all walk down the aisle and out into the bright, chilly November sunlight .

There’s a small public garden near the church, bordering a park, and Daphne takes us there for the photos. Kian’s arm slides around me as we pose next to a display of mums, his hand splaying possessively over one hip. I can feel his fingers toying with one of the flowers on my skirt, and heat blooms through me, desire prickling over my skin as I try not to think too hard about how badly I want his hands on me. I can feel myself blushing, and I almost laugh as I think about looking back on these photos years from now, and seeing how much I wanted Kian in this moment.

Daphne snaps a number of pictures, before finally stowing her camera away. “I’ll go through them and show you which ones are good as soon as possible,” she says, and I smile.

“Thank you,” I tell her gratefully. “Are we all going to go get something to eat? I’m starving.”

Daphne and Marie head back to Daphne’s car, and I go with Kian to his truck. Getting into the truck is something of an effort, with my huge skirt, and Kian helps me with it, tucking it around my feet before closing the door. It feels sweet and intimate, and my heart is fluttering in my chest by the time he gets into the driver’s seat and reaches for me.

“I’ve been dying to kiss you properly,” he growls, his hand sliding into my curls and underneath the lace spill of my veil. His fingers tangle around my hair, pressing into the nape of my neck as he pulls my mouth to his hungrily, and he kisses me like he means it.

The moment his tongue sweeps against mine, I moan, leaning into him as I grip his suit jacket with one hand and his thigh with the other. I feel his muscles tense, feel his hard cock pressing against my wrist, and Kian growls as he nips at my lower lip.

“I’ve half a mind to fuck you right here,” he murmurs, his hand curling around the back of my neck. “Put you on my lap, wedding dress and all, and fuck you in a church parking lot. Would you like that, princess? Letting your new husband defile you right here?”

“Is it defilement if we’re married?” I whisper, looking up at him with my lips still brushing his, and Kian lets out a low, dark laugh.

“Oh, you have no idea how I plan to defile you tonight, wife . ”

Heat jolts through me, and I moan, a soft, begging whimper as Kian chuckles and lets go of my neck. “Let’s go eat first,” he says, reaching down to adjust the hard line of his cock as he starts the truck. “I’m going to need all my energy for what I have planned for tonight.”

My breath catches in my chest, my heart beating hard as I think of all the things that could be. I can feel the lace of my panties clinging damply to my skin beneath my wedding dress, and that realization sends fresh arousal through me as I think of sitting next to Kian through dinner, wet and aching for him.

Even before the vows, I was his. And now, I truly am. I don’t know why that turns me on, why that thought makes my heart race and my lip catch between my teeth, but it does. And I can’t wait to go home with him tonight. For him to take me out of this dress, and find out what’s underneath it, to find out what his plans are for me.

We go to the nicest restaurant in town, a place known for its steaks called Old Oak. The four of us get a table next to a window, with a view of the autumn leaves outside, which is still beautiful even though a good bit of them are scattered across the grass now, instead of on the trees. Kian orders a bottle of red wine, and a burrata cheese dip to start. I can tell that Marie and Daphne are excited about the food—I know for a fact that Marie and her husband don’t go out to a place like this often, and I don’t think Daphne does, either.

The meal is incredible, the nicest one I’ve had since moving here. We get side salads studded with pears and blue cheese, filet that comes with a rich buttery sauce, and go through two bottles of wine among the four of us. Daphne protests when Kian orders the second bottle, telling him that she probably shouldn’t drink more since she’s driving Marie home, and he just winks at her.

“I’m the sheriff, right?” he says with a grin. “I give you permission to drink a little more, just for tonight. Besides, your drive home isn’t all that long.”

When we’ve finished the wine and eaten dessert—crème br?lée and chocolate mousse—we all head back out to the parking lot. Marie and Daphne both give me a hug before veering off to their car, and then it’s just me and Kian, standing in the dark parking lot next to his truck.

“Ready to go home?” he asks, and there’s something dark in his voice, a wicked promise that sends a shiver down my spine.

“Yes,” I whisper, and he opens the door to help me in.