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And now it was time to get married.

Anxiety was a crushing evil bitch, weighing down my head in so many unnecessary ways as I stared at myself in the gaudy gold mirror they had in the groom’s room—the temporary groom’s room that doubled as a prayer room during the day.

I bet they’d have to sanctify the damn place once I left.

In fact I’d strongly suggest it.

Did Raven remember our conversation?

I briefly recalled the waffle story—hating myself for being so vulnerable and weak with her. I knew it made it that much easier to get hurt. I would protect her, but who the hell was going to protect me?

I was extremely good at lying to myself about the whole situation. How could a person you don’t even love possibly hurt you?

But every time I asked that question and got more worried about getting hurt the more I realized I’d never lost the feelings I had for her—if anything, they’d just shifted into something more terrifying that I’d ignored for so long that now it was impossible to hide the monster in the closet or under the bed anymore.

Fuck, I’d spent years feeding it and now it needed more.

The kiss hadn’t helped anyone but the monster.

And her lips tasted like sugar.

“Hey!” Ivan nudged me. “Did the mirror personally offend you? Any longer and I’d think you were going to try to carve an Ace sized outline in the glass with laser beams.”

I shook my head. The church still smelled like loss somehow, that and the fresh flowers we’d purchased in order to somehow cover up what had already taken place a week ago—Louis’ funeral. “Sorry, lost in my thoughts.”

There was no way Raven was handling this well. Six days ago she was walking down the aisle to give a eulogy. Today, she’d be walking down the aisle to say yes to a man she didn’t love while being tortured by the dead soul of the one she couldn’t be with.

I refused to fight a ghost.

Just like I refused to be jealous of one. A soft knock sounded at the door.

Ivan swiftly moved toward it. I smelled her before I saw her. “She can come in.”

Ivan moved away and clicked the door softly behind him. I gave myself a few seconds before lifting my head—knowing full well that just seeing her in her wedding dress would steal the breath from my body. I thought I was prepared.

I wasn’t.

Her off-white dress was form fitting all the way down to the ground. It was strapless with an overlay of black lace that reached just below her breasts before wrapping around her back and joining down the train toward a pool in the floor.

She held a blood red bouquet.

I wondered if it was symbolic or if she really did just love roses.

It felt like blood was staring back at me, blood I’d spilled, blood I’d given to her, and more blood I would be taking.

Hers, his.

I hated him in that moment, hated him for leaving her.

For being selfless enough to save her.

For being someone I couldn’t fight with even if I wanted to steal her.

It would be an impossible war for the rest of my life—one I would never win—and I allowed myself the resentment in that moment, even though I deserved less than what I was actually getting.

Raven Alfero had always been my nightmare.

Right now she looked better than my dreams.