Page 7 of My Hexed Honeymoon (The Bridgewater Pack #2)

CHAPTER SEVEN

That couch looks a lot smaller than it did this morning.

I stand at the edge of the living room, loosening my bowtie, popping open the top two buttons of my shirt, and rolling my shoulders in an attempt to ease the tension that’s held them extra tight for hours.

The three-cushion sectional is fine—decent, even—but definitely not built for a man my size.

The truth is, everything feels more crowded now that I’m a married man, even with my bride hiding upstairs and commandeering my bedroom.

Today has been a goddamn shitshow, where I somehow went from Conall’s right hand man to the alpha of the Bridgewater Pack. Right in time for vampires to show up and tell us we’re in danger, and I’m still not sure whether to believe them or go on a killing spree.

My fists clench at my sides.

Then comes that musical, lilting voice, as if Natalia simply oozes the ethereal. “Diego? I hate to ask, but I’m afraid I need your help.”

At the request for assistance, my inner caveman roars to the surface. Just like that, I’m ready to throw her over my shoulder and catch her a sabretooth tiger. Not necessarily in that order.

I clear my throat and say, “I’ll be right up.”

First things first, I’ve got to get my head straight. Around her, I’m restless, unsettled, and on edge in a way I don’t like.

Because she’s a fucking witch. I hate her on principle, and yet I hate that I don’t hate her more. I was all set to go about my life as if nothing had really changed, and she could either sleep next to me or downstairs.

But I’d seen that flicker of fear in her eyes when she realized there was only one bed—seen that look on her face when her mother raised her palm to strike her.

I grit my teeth and let my neutral mask descend as I start up the stairs. After all, Natalia’s in the same shitty situation I am. Forced into a life she didn’t ask for and a brewing war she never signed up for. Yet somehow, together, we’re supposed to be the key to stopping it.

Like it or not.

No pressure or anything.

I exhale through my nose, doing my best to rid myself of the desire to inhale her sweet scent and hold it in my lungs forever. She smelled like running through a meadow on a warm summer’s day, wild honeysuckle, frankincense, and a sweet-almond vanilla, meadowsweet scent.

Natalia stands at the foot of the bed, her skin flushed from exertion. Her curls are frizzy and wild, no longer in the elegant style she wore beneath her veil at the wedding—as if I’ve already done the ravishing most grooms get to do.

A certain body part of mine twitches, letting me know it’s down. It’s been moons and moons since I last indulged, and had I known I’d be getting married at the start of today, I would’ve done more to slake my lust.

Natalia doesn’t say a word; she simply spins around, displaying inches and inches of creamy skin. Between the veils and the curls and the madness of the vampires, I didn’t see the low scoop in the back that lands right between her shoulder blades.

My throat works a swallow, and I take three long strides across the room.

I tower over her, my tiny bride with the ivory skin and golden hair. Licking my suddenly dry lips, I grip the tab of the zipper and tug, scowling when it doesn’t budge.

Curling a hand around her shoulder to brace both of us, I give it another yank, and she stumbles backward into my chest. Despite our height difference, her ass also pushes right into my crotch, and I just got my dick to settle down.

“I’m doing my best not to rip it,” I say, this moment as delicate as the fabric of the dress.

I don’t do delicate.

“I guess it doesn’t matter,” she says, her voice as small and tiny as she is. “It’s not like I’ll wear it ever again.”

In that case, I’ll rip it right off you.

I clear my throat and go to grab for the zipper again, stifling a groan when my knuckles graze her smooth skin.

Her sharp intake of breath suggests she’s as affected as me, leaving me slightly dizzy.

While I did my best to shove the truth away, she’s fucking gorgeous, okay?

It’s a relief to admit it, even if it’s only in my own brain. With green eyes and delicate features and soft pink lips, I can’t stop staring at her when she speaks. There’s also a vulnerability to her I didn’t expect—a helplessness that calls to my inner warrior.

It’s just the bond, I tell myself for at least the fifth or sixth time, and thank Christ, the zipper finally slides free.

Down it goes, extra quickly since I was pulling with my might, stopping a mere inch above the curve of her ass—an asset her dress spotlights with hard-on inducing glory.

It should be illegal for a dress like that to hug her curves so tightly before flaring out into the skirt that puddles and drags on the floor.

Natalia, shifts her weight from one foot to the other, sweeping her hair aside to glance over her shoulder. “Everything okay back there?”

Nope. Not now that I’m utterly fixated on the bare skin and the idea of her shuddering beneath me. I can just make out the two dimples above her ass cheeks, and I’m struggling to remember I’m not allowed to touch.

To taste.

Savor.

I force my gaze to the line of guitars on my wall and breathe out through my nose, never inhaling, absolutely not intoxicated by her herbal sweet scent.

Being a witch, I guess I sort of expected her to smell like rot and ruin.

Or that sulfur scent that smells like rotten eggs and lingers behind when they cast their spells.

Perhaps Natalia’s not as cruel and calculated as her mother, but that statement would apply to ninety-nine percent of the world, so it’s not exactly a compliment.

And while she’d appeared apprehensive about climbing into bed with me, she was a terrorized blank slate around Andromeda.

I’ve never seen anyone simply stand there, so resigned to taking physical abuse, like when Andromeda raised her hand to strike.

It’d made it so clear how often she’d experienced the abuse, and the rage that’d filled me in the forest takes deeper roots within me and gives me something to focus on besides her ass.

“Back in the forest, with your mother…” I really should’ve planned out a better way to pose the subject before I opened my mouth, but it’s too late now. “Is she always like that?”

Natalia stills, all the muscles in her body going taut. “Yes. But she’s even worse in secret.”

All my life I’ve lamented the loss of my family, to the point I never even considered others experienced so much cruelty at the hands of theirs.

“I’m sorry,” I say, and I mean it. Nobody should have to live like that.

Natalia whirs around, firing a drop-dead-already glare at me. “I don’t need your pity—I don’t need anyone’s.”

Okay, so kitty has claws, and it’ll do me well to remember that fact. Still, she misunderstands where I’m coming from. “It’s not pity. As I said to your mother and everyone else in the forest, I’ll protect what’s mine.”

“I’m not yours,” she snaps back, crossing her arms and taking another step backward. “My mother forced my hand, simple as that. I don’t belong to anyone.”

I should let it go. We had a few civil minutes, and she can peel off her dress at any time, so mission accomplished. But this is my forest, my pack, my house, and my bedroom.

My bride.

“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart. Vows have been exchanged, and you’re the magic key to retrieving the weapon the vampires are after. Every single member of my pack is my responsibility, and like it or not, that now includes you.”

I do some backing up of my own, happy to retreat to the couch so I won’t have to deal with the ice princess and her peeling apart dress.

I can almost convince myself I don’t want to rip it off her and show her exactly how commanding and wicked I can be.

“Neither of us has the luxury of belonging to ourselves, and I only have so much patience to give.”

Silence on her end, but the inferno glowing within the depths of her eyes conveys I’ve pissed her off.

Fine by me. If she wants to spend our time together exchanging jabs and insults, I’ve got plenty locked and loaded.

The only good witch is a dead witch.

Most curses have more heart than you.

Trusting a witch is like traipsing through the forest with steaks strapped to your ass and hoping for a hug from a bear.

“Go ahead and have your feelings tonight.” I clench and release my fists at my side and let gold roll over my eyes.

The alpha headlights are new, and I’m slightly intoxicated by the surge of power.

“But make no mistake, they don’t get to be more important than all the lives of my people that are on the line. ”

Just before I turn and thunder down the stairs, I call out, “Tomorrow, you and I begin figuring out how to navigate the Hollow. And I certainly hope you’re up to the task. Because while I’ll never abuse you the way your mother did, I have no problem becoming your worst nightmare.”