Page 52 of Rejected By My Shifter Billionaire

I was married.

To my stepbrother-slash-alpha.

Nicolo Celestini, whom I had been in love with since I was eighteen years old...was finally my husband.

The wedding had been beautiful, and the guest list—as one society reporter put it—preternaturally star-studded. Even Prince Alexei himself had deigned to attend, his presence causing a ripple of whispers and stunned stares that the Atlantean royalty didn’t even seem to notice.

All of that felt distant now, with my husband having entered our honeymoon suite, and only at this moment did I realize...

It was finally happening.

This night I had secretly dreamed of for years.

Nicolo Celestini was going to make me his...or at least that was the plan, if I could just prevent my brain from short-circuiting with overthinking.

“You look nervous, Maryah.”

His tone was gentle, but no way was I buying it.

“Ha.”

I wasn’t his former stepsister for nothing, you know.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

His gaze gleamed. “Perhaps.”

Hmph.

I planted my hands on my hips in an attempt to show him just how serious I was. “I’ve been reading up on human and preter bonds. There are factors to consider—”

“I agree.”

He definitely has something planned if he says that.

“And that’s why—”

Gasp!

That was literally all I could do with Nicolo using a burst of preternatural speed; one moment he was just across the room, another moment, and he was standing right in front of me, and aaaargh!

Nicolo chuckled even as I glared up at him.

“Stop it! I’m—”

“Overthinking.”

And then he was spinning me around, his hands moving to the zipper of my wedding dress, and this time, all I could do was whimper.

“Just follow my lead.”

He purred the words into my ear as the dress pooled at my feet, and cool air caressed my skin. I had already started to tremble, but when he turned me around to face him, and I saw the way his gaze ravished every inch of me—

My knees threatened to fold even as my entire body tightened with heat.

All I could do was watch as he unbuttoned his shirt, my throat drying as inch by slow inch, the beautiful hard panes of his body were revealed. By the time we were both naked, there was no chance for me to overthink.

Because I could not think at all, period.

He lifted me onto the bed with the kind of easy strength that made my stomach flutter. The sheets were soft against my skin, but not as soft as his hands as he touched me with careful reverence.

“I love you,” he said, settling over me.

Oh, how my heart sang at this even as the same words made me feel hotter and more restless.

“I love you, too...”

I had barely finished speaking when he was cupping my face to kiss me, and my toes curled hard as I lost myself in the taste and feel of him. His hands mapped my body like he was memorizing every curve, every sensitive spot, every place that made me gasp and arch beneath him.

When he finally moved to join us together, it was slow and careful and perfect.

“Okay?” he asked, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

“More than okay,” I breathed.

He began to move, and I forgot how to think about anything except the way he felt inside me, the way our bodies fit together like they’d been designed specifically for this purpose.

The pleasure built slowly, a warm glow that started in my belly and spread outward until every nerve ending was singing. I could feel something else building too, something deeper and more fundamental than just physical sensation.

“Nicolo,” I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders.

“I know,” he said roughly. “I can feel it too.”

The bond. It was starting to form, invisible threads of connection weaving between us with every heartbeat, every breath, every movement.

“When you’re ready,” he murmured against my throat. “When you’re close.”

I nodded, understanding. The mating bite had to happen at the moment of climax for both of us, when our barriers were down and our souls were most open to each other.

He shifted slightly, changing the angle, and suddenly I was flying apart in his arms.

“Now,” I cried out, and felt his teeth sink into the curve of my neck.

The world exploded.

Not just from the physical pleasure, though that was intense enough to make me scream. But from the sudden, overwhelming rush of connection as the mating bond snapped into place.

I could feel everything he was feeling, his love, his relief, his desperate joy at finally being able to claim me completely.

I could sense his thoughts at the edges of my consciousness, his absolute certainty that this was right, that we belonged together, that nothing would ever separate us again.

And beneath it all, I could feel the bond itself, strong and golden and permanent, binding us together in ways that went deeper than marriage or law or even love.

We were mates now.

Truly, completely, forever.

ONE YEAR LATER

“You’re expending pointless and unreasonable energy glaring at me,” Alexei said without glancing up from the sleek tablet in his hands.

Nicolo didn’t stop glaring.

They were seated at the edge of the Celestini estate’s southern courtyard, where the first anniversary party was in full swing around them.

The terrace had been transformed into something out of a supernatural fairy tale, with ancient oak trees blooming with flowers that shifted color with the music.

Tables draped in midnight blue silk were scattered across the stone patio, each one surrounded by chairs that seemed to have grown from the earth itself, their wooden frames twisted into elegant spirals.

“We both know it is your wife’s empty-headed assistant who is to blame for the misunderstanding.”

“You have a point,” Nicolo acknowledged grudgingly, crossing one ankle over his knee as he studied his classmate from his Oxford days, a fact that his wife herself had only become privy to just a few months ago.

He had been a different person back then, and so that time of his life was simply something he would rather not talk about every so often.

“But it’s not enough. You’re just too good-looking for any husband’s peace of mind.”

“Might I remind you of how many hearts you broke back when we were at university?” Alexei’s tone was dry as the Denver air, and as cool as his tailored obsidian suit. He still hadn’t looked up from whatever he was reading.

Nicolo pretended not to hear him.

“If memory serves, you were the one with the reputation for leaving a trail of devastated women across campus.”

A crash of shattering glass followed by a gasp from the other side of the terrace momentarily diverted their attention.

Ada, in a purple cocktail dress that seemed to be attempting to make up in volume what it lacked in taste, stood frozen over what appeared to be the remains of an ancient crystal heirloom.

“That was a gift from the Bellecourts, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“Priceless, no doubt.”

“It has to be, considering Ada’s involvement.”

“Tell me. Why haven’t you fired her again?”

“Because she does a good job at the agency, believe it or not.”

“You’re right. I don’t.”

Nicolo’s stepmother showed up to take over, and Ada started apologizing profusely.

“I’m so sorry. I was just trying to take a selfie with it because it’s literally the prettiest vase I’ve ever seen and I thought Maryah would want to see it up close since she’s still doing the baby thing, but then this waiter came by with those tiny quiche things, and I haven’t eaten since breakfast because I was so nervous about the party, and—”

“It’s perfectly fine, dear.” Maude patted her arm in comfort. “Accidents happen. Especially around you.”

Looking at his stepmom, Nicolo was suddenly reminded of Maude rooting for Prince Alexei to be her daughter’s mate, once upon a time, and the unpleasant memory had him shooting another glare at his former classmate’s direction.

“Why is it taking you so long to choose a mate?” he asked grouched. “It’s been over a year since you started the compatibility—”

He broke off mid-speech when Alexei finally lifted his eyes and handed him a file.

“I pick her.”

Nicolo opened the folder and stared at the contents. A photograph, a detailed background report, and compatibility scores that made no sense whatsoever.

As his wife would put it: like, seriously?

Nicolo turned to the Atlantean shifter with a frown. “She’s been rejected.”

“Yes.”

“By her fated mate.”

“Yes.”

Nicolo looked at the photo again. She was beautiful in an understated way, with dark hair and intelligent eyes that seemed to hold secrets. But more than that, she looked...fragile. Like someone who’d been broken and was still trying to figure out how to put the pieces back together.

“This is going to cause a scandal,” he observed.

“I certainly hope so.”

The End

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