Page 18

I adjust the veil, the diamonds catching the light like tiny stars trapped in the fabric. My reflection stares back at me—blonde hair curled into soft waves, lips painted a deep red, and a dress that feels like it was spun from moonlight and stardust. The Moroccan sunset pours through the window, dyeing the sky in hues of crimson and gold, colors that remind me of Rokkon’s scales. I smile. Even in disguise as Rocky Anderson, he’s the most breathtaking man I’ve ever seen.

A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. “It’s time, Ms. Sloane,” the wedding planner calls, her voice teetering on the edge of excitement and panic.

“Be right there,” I reply, smoothing my hands over the gown one last time. The chastity belt beneath it feels like a cruel joke at this point, a reminder of the past two weeks of teasing and denial. Rokkon’s been relentless—groping me in the kitchen, pinning me against the wall in the hallway, whispering all the things he’s going to do to me after the wedding. Every touch, every word, has left me aching and desperate. But tonight, the belt comes off. Finally. I’ve been counting the minutes.

The door creaks open, and my father steps in, dressed in a sharp black suit. He looks sober, healthy, and proud. The transformation still takes my breath away.

“You look stunning, kid,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

“Thanks, Dad.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “You clean up pretty nice yourself.”

He chuckles, his eyes glistening. “Never thought I’d live to see this day. You’re marrying a good man, Vicki. Hell, he’s more than a good man. He’s...” He trails off, shaking his head. “I’m just glad I got my act together enough to walk you down the aisle.”

“Me too,” I say, squeezing his arm. The bond between us feels stronger now, mended by Rokkon’s intervention. My parents have been sober for weeks, and it’s like I’ve gotten them back after years of losing them to addiction.

The wedding planner pokes her head in again. “We’re ready when you are.”

I gap, the weight of the moment settling over me. This is it. The start of a life I never dared to dream of. I loop my arm through my father’s and let him lead me out of the room. The hallway stretches before us, lined with white roses and flickering candles. The faint strains of a violin drift through the air, and my heart pounds in rhythm with the music.

“You nervous?” my dad asks, glancing at me.

“Not about marrying Rokkon,” I say with a smirk. “Just about surviving the reception. I’m pretty sure he’s been planning something elaborate.”

He chuckles. “That man’s full of surprises, that’s for sure.”

“You have no idea,” I mutter, thinking of the belt still locked snugly around my hips.

We reach the entrance to the chapel, and the double doors swing open. The guests rise as one, their faces turning toward me. But all I see is Rokkon—or rather, Rocky—standing at the altar in a tailored tuxedo, his red hair catching the light, those piercing purple eyes fixed on me with an intensity that makes my knees weak.

He grins, and I can see the mischief in it. Two weeks of teasing, and now it’s his turn to deliver. I feel a shiver of anticipation. Tonight, the wait is over. And something tells me he’s got a lot more than just a key planned.

I barely hear the minister. My eyes are locked on Rokkon—no, Rocky now, in his human disguise—his purple gaze swallowing me whole like a black hole that only my soul could escape. His voice is low and steady as he says his vows, and the sound of it sends a shiver down my spine. When he slides the ring onto my finger, I gasp. It’s a monstrosity of a diamond surrounded by smaller gems, glittering like a miniature galaxy. No one will ever top this. They’d have to strap a boulder to their hand to even try.

The minister barely gets out the words “You may—” before I’m on him. I grab Rokkon by the lapels and yank him down to me, my lips crashing against his. He laughs into my mouth, a deep, rumbling sound, and then he’s kissing me back with equal fervor, his hands sliding around my waist to pull me closer. The crowd erupts into laughter, but it fades into the background, drowned out by the pounding of my heart and the way he feels against me.

“Get a room!” someone shouts—Chad, probably. I recognize the tone, the usual mix of crassness and awkwardness that my brother brings to every situation.

Rokkon and I finally break apart, breathless and grinning. The minister looks like he’s about to have a stroke, but Rokkon just winks at him, and then we’re walking down the aisle, hand in hand, as husband and wife.

The reception hall is a marvel—modern, sleek, and filled with soft golden light. The centerpiece is a massive glass sphere, shimmering like a soap bubble, filled with envelopes and checks.

“What’s that?” I ask, gesturing to the sphere.

“Donations,” Rokkon says, his voice brimming with pride. “To GEHI. I told everyone we didn’t need gifts, but we’d gladly accept contributions to the cause.”

I smile, warmth spreading through my chest. Of course he’d turn our wedding into a fundraiser.

We make the rounds, stopping first to talk to Captain Pyke and his wife, Taylor. Pyke’s in his human disguise, but his eyes still have that sharp, reptilian glint.

“Congratulations,” Pyke says, shaking Rokkon’s hand with a firm grip. “You two make a charming couple. Almost makes me believe in love again.”

“Almost?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Pyke says with a grin. “I’m a romantic at heart. But let’s just say I’ve seen enough interstellar battles to know love doesn’t always win.”

Taylor swats his arm playfully. “Ignore him. He’s just bitter because I won’t let him name our next kid after a Star Trek character.”

Rokkon chuckles, and the sound is warm and genuine. “I’d offer advice, but I’m still working on keeping this one in line.” He gives me a sly look, and I roll my eyes, though my cheeks heat up.

Next, we’re cornered by Ned Turner, who’s already halfway through a glass of champagne and talking a mile a minute.

“Rocky, my boy, you’ve outdone yourself,” Ned says, clapping Rokkon on the shoulder with a little too much enthusiasm. “And Vicki, my dear, you look absolutely radiant. Truly, a credit to the institution of marriage.”

“Thanks... I think?” I say, exchanging a look with Rokkon.

Ned doesn’t seem to notice. “You know, I’ve been telling Rocky for years that he needed to settle down. Too much time in the boardroom, not enough time in the bedroom, if you catch my drift.”

I choke on my drink, and Rokkon’s hand tightens around my waist. “Ned,” he says, his voice edged with warning.

“What? I’m just saying!” Ned laughs, oblivious. “Anyway, you two are the poster couple for modern philanthropy. I mean, this GEHI initiative? Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.”

“Glad you think so,” Rokkon says, his tone dry.

I nudge him subtly, trying not to laugh. Ned means well, but he’s the kind of guy who could talk your ear off about the benefits of kale smoothies while simultaneously spilling one down his shirt.

We manage to extract ourselves after a few more minutes, and I sigh relief.

“He’s... something,” I say, glancing back at Ned, who’s now animatedly explaining something to a group of bewildered guests.

“That’s one way to put it,” Rokkon mutters, his lips twitching into a smirk.

I lean into him, my hand finding his. “Think we can sneak out yet?”

He looks down at me, his eyes darkening with promise. “Patience, Mrs. Anderson. The night’s still young.”

I pout, earning a low chuckle from him. Two weeks of waiting, and now he’s the one telling me to be patient. But the look in his eyes tells me it’ll be worth it. Every damned second.

The moment the door to the honeymoon manor shuts behind us, Rokkon sweeps me off my feet, his arms strong and sure around me. He carries me across the threshold like some kind of old-world romantic, and I laugh, the sound bubbling up from my chest as he sets me down gently in the foyer.

“Champagne?” he offers, his voice smooth and teasing, his purple eyes glinting with mischief.

I grab him by the lapels of his tuxedo and give him a firm shake. “Get this thing off and fuck me!” I demand, my voice rising in frustration.

Rokkon arches his brow ridges, that infuriating smirk playing on his lips. “You’re making demands like you’re in charge or something, my sweet one,” he says, his tone dripping with mock seriousness. “I was going to take the belt off of you, but obviously you need to be taught a lesson about who you belong to.”

I groan, rolling my eyes, but before I can protest, he’s already stripping me out of my wedding dress. The fabric falls away in a whisper, leaving me in just the ivory satin corset, white stockings, heels, and the damn chastity belt. I try to grab him, to pull him into a kiss, but he’s too quick. He pushes me into a sturdy chair with leather seat cushions, the coolness of the material biting into my skin as he ties my wrists securely to the arms.

“You’re Satan incarnate,” I groan, my frustration mounting.

“Close enough,” he replies, slipping a ball gag into my mouth before I can say another word. The straps tighten behind my head, and I’m left with nothing but muffled sounds of protest. Then he blindfolds me, and the world goes dark.

“If you’re good, maybe I’ll let you cum before sunrise,” he says, his voice a low purr in my ear. I squirm, but the restraints hold firm.

His hands are everywhere yet nowhere, his breath hot against my skin as he moves around me. I can feel him close, but he’s not touching me—not yet. My nipples harden under the corset, aching for contact, and my breathing quickens. Every inch of me is on fire, desperate for his touch.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my neck. “Helpless. Desperate. Mine. ”

I strain against the restraints, my muffled moans echoing in the room. He’s toying with me, and it’s driving me insane. His lips ghost over my nipple, and I shudder, a whimper escaping me. He’s so close, but it’s not enough. I need more.

Finally, he leans in, his breath warm against my ear. “You’ve been so patient, my sweetness. Let’s see if you can handle what comes next.”

The sound of metal clicking makes my heart leap. The locks on the chastity belt are coming undone, one by one. Each click feels like an eternity, and by the time the final lock releases, I’m trembling with anticipation.

Rokkon’s tongue—long, prehensile, and alien —slides over my swollen clitoris, and I scream into the gag, my back arching as the pleasure crashes over me. My body convulses, and I’m lost in the sensation, my world reduced to nothing but him and the fiery ecstasy coursing through me.

He doesn’t let up, his tongue plunging into me, coaxing out another wave of pleasure until I’m a trembling, gasping mess. He’s relentless, and I’m completely at his mercy.

Rokkon was right—this is going to be a fantastic wedding night. And it’s just getting started.

The moment Rokkon’s tongue touches my skin, I’m a goner. There’s no other word for it. His growls rumble through me, low and primal, vibrating against my thighs as he works his way up, kissing, licking, and sucking every inch of me. His clawed hands knead my breasts, rough but controlled, and I arch into him, moaning around the gag still stuffed in my mouth.

“Perfect,” he murmurs against my hip, his breath hot. “Every curve, every freckle, every sigh— perfect .” His tongue drags up my side, and I shiver, my skin prickling with goosebumps.

He pauses, pulling back just enough to lock those violet eyes with mine. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to taste you like this? To have you completely mine?” His voice is a mix of hunger and reverence that makes my chest tighten.

I nod as much as I can with the gag, a muffled sound escaping me. He chuckles, a dark, satisfied sound, and his hands slide down to grip my hips, his claws digging just enough to remind me who’s in charge.

“You’re mine, Vicki,” he says, leaning in again, his lips brushing against my ear. “My wife. My sweetness. My everything .” The words send a jolt of heat straight to my core, and I whimper, writhing under him.

He pulls back with a smirk, his tongue flicking out to trace the line of my jaw. “And I’m going to take such good care of you.” The promise in his voice makes me melt, and I let out a muffled “Yes, Sir,” the words garbled but earnest.

Rokkon’s smirk widens, and he reaches behind my head to unbuckle the gag, his fingers brushing against my cheek as he pulls it free. Before I can say anything, his lips are on mine, crushing and claiming. I kiss him back with everything I have, my hands tugging at the restraints like I can somehow pull him closer.

One of his hands slips between my thighs, his fingers expertly finding the spot that makes me gasp into his mouth. He knows my body better than I do, and he uses that knowledge to drive me wild, his fingers working in slow, deliberate circles that have me whimpering and pleading.

“Rokkon—” I manage to choke out, my voice shaking.

“Shh,” he murmurs against my lips. “Let me take care of you.” His fingers press harder, and I’m gone, a sharp cry tearing from my throat as waves of pleasure crash over me.

When I come back to myself, Rokkon’s already untying my wrists, his hands gentle but firm. He scoops me up like I weigh nothing and carries me to the bed, his gaze never leaving mine. He lays me down and slides in behind me, his hands gripping my hips as he pushes into me, filling me in one smooth stroke.

I gasp, arching back against him, and he growls, his hands tightening as he starts to move. His pace is relentless, each thrust driving me closer to the edge again. I move with him, my body instinctively matching his rhythm, and when I finally tip over, it’s with a sob, my entire body shaking with the force of it.

Rokkon follows me a moment later, his growl turning into a groan as he collapses on top of me, his body heavy and warm. He shifts after a moment, pulling me against his chest as he spoons me, his arms wrapping around me like a protective shield.

“I love you,” he murmurs into my hair, his voice soft but fierce.

“I love you too,” I whisper back, my eyes already drifting shut. As I drift off to sleep, I feel him press a kiss to the top of my head, and I smile, knowing that when I wake up, he’ll still be there. Always.