Page 13 of Enchantra (Wicked Games #2)

12

DREADFUL VOWS

Genevieve pushed back the blanket hanging off the mirror to give herself a final once-over. Admiring the light in her eyes one last time before she vowed herself away to a stranger made of darkness.

“Ready?” Sevin prompted softly from behind.

Genevieve squared her shoulders as he reached down for the small train that stretched out from the back of her gown. Before he could pick it up, however, she clucked her tongue and pointed to the sucker in his mouth.

“That has to go before you touch this dress,” she chastised.

He sighed mournfully as he popped the candy from his mouth and tossed it into a crystal ashtray on the bar counter. He held up his hands to show her they were clean before crouching back down and carefully gathering up the excess material into his arms.

“So. Your brother wants me dead, huh?” Genevieve asked.

“Which one?” Sevin asked.

He shrugged as he straightened up to his full height once more. “I suppose we’ll all want you dead when the game begins. But nothing that happens inside the parameters of the Hunt can be taken too personally. We have to perform a certain amount, or Knox will ensure we’re punished for not raking in enough profits when it’s all over. Try and remember that when you see us at our worst.”

He extended the crook of his elbow out in offering, and she made herself accept it.

“And your performance starts now,” he murmured as he escorted her toward the door.

There was a heavy tension sucking the oxygen out of the air when they stepped out of the room and moved into the outside corridor—which was now full of mirrors that had not been there before. Her heels clacking against the marble floor the only sound in the ominous quiet of the house. When they reached the foyer, Ellin pulled open the front door and waved them through. Sevin held Genevieve firm and steady as their shoes crunched over the fresh layer of ice outside. As the siblings guided her to the left of the villa, toward the stone gate that led to the back of the estate, a gust of chilling wind kicked up through the air. Genevieve knew she ought to have been shivering violently, but somewhere between the tequila and her nerves, she found that she was entirely numb.

Ellin knocked on the arched wooden door embedded into the stone wall that stretched from the house all the way to the silver fence surrounding the grounds. There was a clang and scrape of a metal latch on the other side before Wells pried the gateway open and waved the three of them inside.

“We can take our seats,” Wells murmured to Ellin as Genevieve gaped at the sight before her.

A champagne velvet runner stretched from the gate all the way to the back of the house before hooking a sharp left into what looked to be a garden surrounded by the same sort of hedges that made up the labyrinth. Lining both sides of the runner were bushels and bushels of blush and gold roses. Between each bough of flowers were tall, gilded candelabras. Their flames seemingly untouched by the cold.

“How…?” she wondered as Sevin fixed her train over the carpet behind her before returning to her side to begin walking her down the aisle.

“Being a Devil’s Familiar allows one access to quite the bag of tricks,” Sevin explained.

“As well as good taste,” she noted.

“Well, that part is Rowin,” he told her.

When they reached the curve of the carpet, Genevieve nearly choked at the scene she found in front of her. The garden was stunning despite the snow. Perhaps even because of it. The hedges were dusted in glittering flurries of ice and surrounded a small square of checkered gray-and-white marble. Lining the hedges were silver latices intertwined with the same thorned vines that decorated Enchantra’s front gates, the bright purplish berries dripping from the greenery like jewels. And in front of the latices were even more of the rose bushes as well as clusters of lit candles.

As they stepped into the illuminated square, Genevieve’s eyes briefly roamed over the gilded chairs that had been arranged for Rowin’s siblings. Ellin and Wells sat side by side behind Remi, who did not look like he was present by choice, while Barrington stood facing them all at the far back of the square.

Waiting at the end of the aisle, a wicked gleam in his golden eyes, was her soon-to-be husband.

Rowington Silver was a vision in obsidian against the white of the snow and marble beneath their feet. His black suit had an intricate, monochromatic silk filigree embroidered over the coat and trousers. All impeccably tailored. His cravat was a golden silk that matched the details of his cuff links as well as the earrings now dangling from his ears. Even his hair had been combed back handsomely, an effort that surprised her.

If he was equally as impressed by her wedding attire, his expression didn’t betray him. Though his eyes did linger ever so slightly on the bodice of her dress as Sevin handed her off, removing her hand from the crook of his arm and placing it in Rowin’s waiting palm. Sevin eagerly left her with his brother and father, taking his seat next to Remi and leaving Genevieve to keep herself upright on her own.

As her heart thundered in her chest, she wondered how long she’d last.

“Breathe,” Rowin demanded under his breath, giving her hand a subtle squeeze as his father cleared his throat.

She gulped down a single breath of air as Barrington announced, “We are gathered here today to witness the union of Rowington Silver and Genevieve Grimm in the sacred ceremony of Aeternitas. Eternal matrimony.”

At the mention of eternal Genevieve’s breathing became shallower.

“Rowin, we will begin with you. Please repeat after me,” Barrington directed. “I, Rowington Silver, seal my fate with yours.”

“I, Rowington Silver, seal my fate with yours,” Rowin recited, his amber gaze fixing itself to Genevieve’s and holding firm as he enunciated every word clearly.

“My soul is your soul. My heart is your heart. My blood is your blood. Eternally,” Barrington finished.

“My soul is your soul. My heart is your heart. My blood is your blood. Eternally,” Rowin told her.

They weren’t dreadful vows—on paper. But Genevieve felt her stomach churning.

“Now, Genevieve,” Barrington prompted. “I, Genevieve Grimm, seal my fate with yours.”

Genevieve opened her mouth, tried to push the words out, but her tongue wouldn’t work. For all she knew, she could be binding herself to a worse nightmare than Farrow. Not to mention that the word eternally was terrifying. She’d never really been entertained by anything long-term.

“Genevieve,” Barrington urged gently, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Rowin was steadily silent.

Genevieve gulped down a few breaths, tried to focus on the bite of the winter air, the way it made her flesh pebble. The way it made her numb. She could get through this. She could play their game.

Rowin leaned down to whisper in her ear then, as if he could tell exactly what she was thinking. “Don’t get caught up on the eternal part. Nothing is truly eternal. Not even when you wish it were.”

So, Genevieve whispered, “I, Genevieve Grimm, seal my fate with yours.”

Rowin dipped his chin in encouragement.

“My soul is your soul. My heart is your heart. My blood is your blood. Eternally,” Barrington said.

She parroted the words, making her tone as lively as she could.

“And you both promise to protect each other, to choose each other, in sickness and in health, in light and dark?” Barrington continued.

“I do,” Rowin said, the words loud and clear.

“I do,” Genevieve agreed before she lost her nerve.

Barrington’s smile was as sincere as it could be given the circumstances as he raised his voice and declared, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” He shifted his eyes over to his son. “You may now kiss your bride.”

Barrington stepped away then, making sure the only thing in Genevieve’s sight was Rowin. Her husband.

And then she felt it. The heavy eyes of a Devil.

Knox had arrived.

Her body went rigid with nervousness as she tried to glance away from Rowin, to look for where the Devil might be, but Rowin gave her hand a squeeze as if to say focus .

It felt as if Knox’s gaze was pressing in on her from every side, but as Rowin reached out to tap a finger beneath her chin, lifting her face to his until their noses were nearly touching, that detail somehow faded to the back of her mind.

He slowly wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her body up against his. “Ready?”

She wasn’t, but she nodded anyway.

“Deep breath,” he said.

She listened as he edged closer and angled his face down, their noses touching ever so slightly, and the rest of the world fell away.

And then his mouth was on hers.

For a kiss not born of lust, it was all-consuming. Every thought emptied from her head as the heat of his lips scorched her from the inside out. She felt him bury his free hand into her hair, tangling it through her pinned-up tresses in order to tilt her face to the exact angle he wanted. Every movement he made was sure, confident, and when he gently parted his lips to deepen the kiss, she didn’t hesitate to follow suit. The taste of him filled her mouth as he dipped her back ever so slightly. She instinctively reached up to grasp onto his biceps, though it wasn’t really necessary.

When the sound of a whistle rang out from somewhere in the distance, just as she went to flick the tip of her tongue against the hoop in his lip, Rowin suddenly ripped himself away.

She made an involuntary sound of disappointment as she blinked her eyes open, her breathing shallow as she searched his face for what was wrong. And then she remembered where they were. What they were doing. She smoothed a hand over her hair, embarrassed by getting so carried away. He, on the other hand, was wearing his usual mask of inscrutable composure.

This time it was too much.

How do you do that? she wanted to scream. Pretend as if none of this has any effect on you?

Someone appeared at her left: Barrington.

“All I need now is your signatures,” Barrington prompted as he held out a thick piece of yellowish parchment in front of them both.

The top of the paper read Certificate of Marriage in shimmering gold. Both of their names were printed beneath two blank lines in the center, and at the very bottom were two signatures already scrawled in black ink. Sevington Silver and Ellington Silver. Their witnesses.

Rowin took a pen she hadn’t noticed was clasped in his father’s free hand and quickly scrawled his own signature on the blank line above his name. He passed it over to her next, and she gritted her teeth as she did the same.

With a sharp nod, Barrington rolled up the certificate and turned back to their audience. “Introducing Mr. and Mrs. Rowington Silver .”

A few cheers rang out amongst Rowin’s siblings before she heard the scraping of chairs and a murmuring that sounded like, “Let’s get the fuck inside.”

As the rest of them went, so did the suffocating presence of Knox’s gaze, and Genevieve let out a sigh of relief.

“Knox will probably be gone for a bit while he promotes our union to his patrons in Hell. But you have to be more careful,” Rowin scolded her now that they were entirely alone.

“Of what?” she challenged.

“Of letting your real feelings show.”

Genevieve looked away from him as the sound of midnight tolled, reverberating through the garden around them. She startled at the jarring sound.

Smoothing her hands over her hair, she muttered, “Now that the strangest day of my life is over, I think it’s time to…”

Her words trailed off as a wave of exhaustion flooded through her body.

“Genevieve?” Rowin prodded.

She looked down at her hands and watched as her vision began to blur. A sharp, slicing pain speared through her temples a moment later, little black dots forming across her vision as she felt all the magic in her core drain away.

“ Rowin ,” she pleaded. For what, she wasn’t sure.

Right before she hit the ground, she felt a pair of solid arms wrap around her and his deep voice promising, “I’ve got you.”

“You’re a Demon. I wish I’d never met you. And now you’ll fucking burn.”

He dropped the match as she screamed, but the roar of the flames drowned it out. No one was ever going to be able to hear her cries.