Page 20 of Fae-King It (Mystical Matchmakers #5)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Ronan couldn’t believe that Dominique loved him. Or that she was going to refuse to marry him. The thought made him equal parts distraught and enraged. A primal part of him, deep inside, needed to know that she belonged to him. Needed her to say the vows that made Dominique his.

He knew he was walking too fast as he all but hauled her through the gardens to the area where the guests were seated, waiting for the ceremony to begin. They were already a few minutes late, but Ronan didn’t care. They could wait or leave. All that mattered was that Dominique was going to marry him.

He halted just in front of the gaping cleric. “Sorry, for the delay. We’re ready now.”

The young man’s mouth opened and closed several times, clearly taken aback by the breach in protocol for royal weddings.

But he recovered quickly and opened the small book between his hands. He gestured to their spots in front of him. “Please stand here.”

Ronan used a hand on Dominique’s hip to position her where the cleric pointed.

“Ronan!” she hissed. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Face the cleric, Princess.”

For the first time since he met her, Ronan swore that Dominique blushed, her eyes darting to the side toward the officiant, then to the other side toward the guests. But she didn’t do as he said.

“Ronan—”

He stepped closer, cupping her face with his hands. “Face the cleric, Dominique. Marry me. Forget about the guests and my parents. This is about you and me.”

She hesitated, which was driving him crazy. He knew he didn’t deserve her, that he hadn’t started their relationship the way he should have, but the overwhelming urge to claim her rode him. He needed the certainty that she was his or he would never be able to let her out of his sight.

“Are you sure?” she whispered. “I don’t want you to regret?—”

He interrupted her again, hating the uncertainty in her voice. “The only thing I regret is letting my own anger cloud my vision for so long. If I hadn’t been so determined to blame you, I would have realized what you are to me long ago and neither of us would have been alone for the past twenty years.”

Her changeable eyes were the color of a tropical ocean, the mixture of blue and green breathtakingly vibrant. She studied his face for so long that he feared his words hadn’t gotten through to her.

Finally, she whispered, “All right.”

With that, she turned toward the cleric, folding her hands in front of her, showing him the proper respect.

With a sigh of relief, Ronan did the same. He barely listened as the cleric spoke, only moving when he asked for their hands. Dominique’s palm was warm and soft on the back of his hand as the cleric wrapped a length of embroidered silk around their fingers, wrists, and extending halfway up their forearms.

For the first time, Ronan felt the magic in the ceremonial words. In the phrases he and Dominique repeated in the fae tongue. Though he wasn’t fluent, he understood enough to know what he was promising.

I vow to walk by your side from today and into eternity.

I will carry you when you are weak, giving you my strength and my sword.

My love for you is vaster than the ocean and will outlive the stars in the sky.

You are my heart and my breath. I will treasure you with my body and soul.

Though Dominique wasn’t a warrior, her vows were the same. Ancient fae females battled beside their males. Now, most fae women only wore ceremonial swords at important events—such as weddings or funerals. There were still female warriors, but not as many.

Their voices wove together as they repeated the vows, this time in unison. Ronan felt the warmth of his magic spreading through him and into Dominique. Simultaneously, he could feel her magic intertwining with his. It felt like sparkling wine—tart and cool, but effervescent. It bubbled beneath his skin, lighting him up from within.

When they turned to face each other, he could see the shadows of his magic beneath her skin. Mixed with the golden tones of her power, it seemed to glow a deep, sapphire blue rather than black.

As they completed the vows, ending them with a final sentence, Ronan reached out and threaded his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck, his thumb pressed to the skin just below her ear.

I seal this vow with a kiss, given freely and with my love.

His pulse thundered in his ears as he leaned forward, his body so full of magic and love that he wasn’t sure he could contain it all. Dominique’s aquamarine eyes stared steadily into his as their lips brushed lightly. Once. Twice.

She opened her mouth beneath his and he tugged her closer, trapping their tied hands between them. Suddenly, the magic inside him swelled until it seemed to burst, showering the sky above them with the shimmering gold and midnight colors of their blended powers.

The weight he’d been carrying for the past thirty years, the darkness of the curse that seemed to drag him down, was gone. He felt light and…free.

He drew back, staring down at Dominique, meeting her wide eyes.

“The curse…” she murmured.

“I know. It’s gone.”

Tears filled her eyes as she leaned into him, letting him take her weight. “I can’t believe it.”

She lifted her right wrist. The crescent moon was gone, leaving behind smooth, bare skin. Ronan looked at his left wrist and saw that his mark was missing as well. While he didn’t miss the weight of the curse, he didn’t like the fact that he no longer shared that mark with her. It was something they’d always shared. Maybe he could talk her into matching tattoos.

Someone cleared their throat right next to them and Ronan looked over to find the officiant giving him an uncomfortable look.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Uh, well, the ceremony isn’t complete, so…um…”

Ronan smirked and nodded. “I understand.” He kissed Dominique on the forehead. “Princess, let’s finish this so we can celebrate.”

She sniffed, but straightened, her eyes still teary. “Yes. Let’s do that.”

Neither of them looked away from the other as the cleric began speaking and unwinding the silk that wrapped around their hands. Even when they were no longer bound together, Ronan turned his palm over to lace his fingers with Dominique’s.

“I declare you wed in the eyes of the gods and your kin. Go forth and live with love.”

At the officiant’s final words, Ronan leaned forward and swept Dominique into his arms. This time, her cry was one of pure joy and laughter as he all but ran past their guests and back into the castle.

By his measure, he had at least twenty minutes alone with his bride until his family forced them to attend the wedding feast.

As it turned out, Ronan didn’t even get five minutes with Dominique before his sister appeared and demanded to hug and kiss her new sister-in-law. Aisling met his gaze over Dominique’s shoulder, and he saw the truth in her eyes.

She and her guard had removed the threat of Dominique’s parents permanently. They would never return to harm his bride or his family. He would have to tell Dominique, but not today. Tomorrow would be soon enough.

After she released his princess, Aisling approached him with open arms. “Congratulations on tricking a woman like my sister-in-law to marry so far beneath her.”

He pinched the side of her waist, making her squeal in his ear, before he gave her a hard hug. When had his little sister grown up? It seemed like yesterday she was nothing but skinny legs and arms and teeth that were too big for her face.

Now, she was a fully grown woman, strong and fierce. And she was as tall in her flat boots as Dominique was in her heels.

“When did you get so big?” he murmured in her ear.

It was her turn to pinch him, making him flinch because she did it much harder than he had. “Big?”

“Grown. Adult. No longer my scrawny little sister,” he expanded.

The smile on Aisling’s face slowly faded. “It was time,” she said simply.

They shared a look of understanding before his mother appeared in the doorway.

“There you are! Your guests are waiting and you’re being incredibly rude. Now, get to the great hall for the wedding feast. If we don’t feed these people soon, there will be violence!”

Resigned he wasn’t going to get a moment alone with Dominique, Ronan allowed his mother to herd them toward the great hall. He would sneak her out after the meal while the guests were tipsy on mead and nightwine, dancing like fiends.

As soon as they entered the great hall, a raucous cheer went up from their guests and the staff. Everyone clapped and shouted. Some of the cries were congratulations and others were not so wholesome insinuations about the wedding night.

Usually, Ronan disliked gatherings this large, but it was clear that his new wife was having a wonderful time. She smiled more than he’d ever seen her, blue-green eyes sparkling with joy and humor every time she looked at him.

No, it wasn’t just that she was smiling more. The ice princess cloak she wore was removed. She was connecting to their people, chatting with them, and making them feel as though she cared.

The longer he watched her, the more Ronan realized she did care. He could see it in the tilt of her head to listen when someone spoke and the way her gaze remained locked on their face during conversation. She gave them her undivided attention and his people were hungry for it.

Ronan realized he might have trouble abdicating the throne if he took it before his sister. Not because he wouldn’t want to, but because his people would resist losing his wife as their queen.

His. Wife.

The words sounded perfect, even in his own mind. She was everything he needed but never knew he wanted.

After a half-hour, he dragged Dominique away from the guests, shoving a plate in her hand.

“You need to eat something,” he commanded.

When she opened her mouth, likely to argue, Ronan leaned closer so he could speak directly into her ear without being overheard. “You’re going to need your energy for later, wife,” he murmured and grinned when he saw a small shiver run through her.

“I’ll eat if you do,” she retorted, tilting her chin to look at him. Their faces were only a few inches apart.

Unable to help himself, Ronan leaned down and kissed her. “You’re right. I’m going to need my energy, too.”

When they finally settled at the table set up for the royal family, one of the servants brought over a carafe of mead. They sat side-by-side, their thighs touching as they ate from each other’s plates and drained their glasses of mead.

Tiny cakes and pastries soon followed, served by a plethora of servants, before the band began to play a merry jig. When he felt Dominique’s toe tapping the floor next to his foot, Ronan leaned over and asked, “Would my wife like to dance with her husband?”

She stared at the rapidly filling dance floor, a wistful expression on her face. “I would love to, but I don’t know how.”

The sadness in her words made him lament her childhood. Her parents had been fae nobility. They should have ensured she knew how to dance.

He took her hand, pulling her to her feet as he stood. “Then, I’ll teach you.”

She resisted. “I don’t want to embarrass you or your fam?—”

Ronan kissed her, hard and quick, stopping the words before they could leave her lips. “Don’t worry about my family and you could never embarrass me. Not even if you tried your hardest.”

Her eyes were wide and nervous as he guided her out to the dance floor. People made room for them, but no one stopped dancing with their own partners. Ronan placed one of her hands on his shoulder before taking her free one in his. Then, he set his other palm on her waist, pulling her a little closer.

“We’ll need some space for the steps since this is a jig. For a waltz or a slower dance, we won’t need as much.”

He demonstrated the steps and walked her through what he was doing as he led her slowly around the edge of the dance floor. Once she had the footwork down, he began to pick up speed. Most of the songs being played tonight were folk dances—jigs and reels with quick beats and simple steps.

Soon, they were whipping around the floor, and he turned her several times in a row, holding her tightly when she nearly tripped.

With a breathless laugh, she said, “Don’t spin me so fast, it’s making me dizzy.”

“Did you say spin you faster?” he asked, doing just that.

Her resulting laugh was even louder, but she managed to keep her steps in time with his just fine. “Ronan!” she cried.

“You’re doing fine. Just follow my lead.”

“Your lead? More like your pushing and shoving.”

“Well, once you learn how to dance properly, I won’t have to haul you around like a sack of potatoes.”

She scoffed, smacking him lightly on the arm. “Take that back!”

He found himself smiling down at her. “Fine. You’re not a sack of potatoes.” He winced when she stepped on his foot. “You’re like a Sasquatch.”

A second later, she trod his foot again, this time on purpose. He knew because of the way she giggled.

“Witch,” he muttered without heat. “My feet will be black and blue tomorrow.”

“Boohoo. Poor little prince.”

He loved the way she teased him right back, as though she was confident enough in him to do so. Less than twenty-four hours ago, she never would have dared.

“Such a vicious wife. I chose well.”

Her answering laugh was so loud that heads all around them turned.

Grinning, Ronan spun her away and off the dance floor. “I think it’s time for us to take our leave,” he muttered in her ear as he wrapped both arms around her, bringing her back flush with his front.

“Oh, really? Don’t you think our guests will notice?”

“Yes, but they’ll just drink a toast to the possibility of a future heir to the throne and make vulgar jokes about wedding night activities.”

He couldn’t see it, but Ronan was sure Dominique rolled her eyes.

Using his magic, he blurred their appearance, making the guests look past them so they didn’t get caught up in another conversation about marriage and all the advice the older couples were inclined to give.

Within moments, they were out of the great hall and moving through a passage that would take them back to his room. He could have transported them instantly, but he wanted to give the staff a chance to prepare the room as he’d asked. He’d signaled Jessel as he was guiding Dominique from the great hall, and it would take a few minutes for her workers to get everything ready.

Plus, he didn’t want to use up all his energy with magic when he had far better ideas of how to exhaust himself.

“What are we doing?” Dominique asked, her voice breathless from dancing and laughing.

“We’re building the anticipation,” he answered.

She scoffed but let him lead her down the hallway. Her aquamarine eyes sparkled in the dim light of the hall, and she radiated joy, her mouth curving into a small smile as she walked hand-in-hand with him.

They emerged from the staircase and his steps grew faster. He needed to be alone with her, to peel that dress from her body, and stake his claim on her. Fae rarely marked their partners with mating bites anymore, many considering it too barbaric and a throwback to a time when their people were uncivilized, but Ronan felt the urge so strongly that his teeth ached from instinct.

He pulled her to a stop, turning so Dominique’s back was against his door. He crowded her space, looming over her, and pinned her in place, his hands on her hips.

“I want to mark you,” he said, lifting one hand to brush a few strands of hair away from her neck, revealing the sweat-dampened skin of her throat. “Here.”

His thumb brushed over the spot where her neck and shoulder met. Her pulse quickened in her throat, throbbing visibly as she looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Will you let me?” he asked.

He held his breath as she studied him. He’d fumbled things so badly in the beginning, he wouldn’t blame her for wanting to wait or saying no altogether. He would be disappointed, but he would live with it. He would have to because he couldn’t live without her.

Her hand lifted to his throat before coming to rest over his left pectoral. “Only if I can bite you here.”

Ronan’s skin burned beneath her touch, as though he could already feel her teeth sinking into his flesh. “Fuck, yes.”

Neither of them spoke as he reached behind her and opened the door. With one arm wrapped tightly around her waist, he walked her backward into the room. Ronan slammed the door behind him, using his magic to turn the lock and set a ward to keep everyone out.

No one would bother them for the rest of the night unless they wanted to die.

Finally alone, Ronan did what he’d wanted to do all night—he crushed her to him and kissed her.