Page 155 of Savage Empire

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, jaw clenching as I attempt to keep my eyes inside of my head. It doesn’t matter that I saw her in her dressing room minutes ago. The look of her in that dress, fuckingglowing, as she’s about to come and marry me…it’s indescribable.

Yordan has her arm wrapped in his as he guides her down the path to me, wearing a custom Brioni suit. No matter how fraternal I’ve come to feel toward him, I can’t take my eyes off his sister. She’s ethereal, and she’s all fucking mine.

Rayna’s nervous eyes meet mine, and her lips part, sucking in a deep breath. She doesn’t look away, holding my gaze for silent support. It’s taken so long for her to see me this way, as someone to seek out for comfort, rather than someone to doubt.

In only a few blinks, the siblings have stopped walking. They’re so close to me now that I could reach out and grab my bride. Yordan reluctantly untangles their arms, and squeezes his sister’s hand before letting it fall. The bridal music shifts into a different classic tune as she comes to face me.

Both of us have to turn our heads to the side to watch the next part, knowing it isn’t quite time to begin yet. It’s our ring bearers turn to steal the show, and judging by the crowd cooing, they’ve done just that.

Leo and Bastian walk together down the aisle, holding hands while Bastian carries a velvet box. Rayna wanted to see them herself, rather than having them come out before her. And for good reason. The boys light up as they find her, eyes wide with wonder at her dressed up appearance. They’re gazing up at her like she’s a princess, and she may as well be.

They walk faster when she gives them a little wave, eager to meet us at the end. Once they reach our side, Rayna whispers how dapper they look in their little suits, prompting giggles to come out of both boys.

Eventually, Bastian hands us the ring box, and takes his cue to go sit down. But Leo doesn’t move, wordlessly gluing himself to Rayna’s side.

“Leo—” his father attempts to prompt, but it’s no use.

“My Rain-uh,” Leo pouts, throwing his arms around her legs to bury his face in her dress. The crowd coos withawwswhile Rayna clutches her heart, bottom lip jutting out.

She looks at me with wide, helpless eyes, like she would allow him to stay if it meant she didn’t have to tell him to go away. She adores him, and that much can’t be helped. She’s a nurturing woman, especially with small children. It’s one of the many reasons she’s going to be the mother of mine.

Cassio steps up from the front row, leaning down to get on Leo’s level and starts speaking to him softly in Italian. “Rayna has to stay up here with Uncle Apollo just for a little bit, buddy. She’ll play with you after, okay?”

Shyly peeking up at me, Leo asks, “Pollo’s Rain-uh?”

I give him a nod, and he smiles hesitantly. “Okay. I share.”

The crowd gives him a gentle round of applause as he lets Cassio pick him up, and he blushes at the attention. Once they’re seated, my attention is firmly back on my soon-to-be wife.

As we face one another, our chosen priest steps behind us into position.

“Dearly beloved,” he begins, using the same words he once spoke at Cassio’s wedding. Only today, he won’t be interrupted. “We are gathered here today under the eyes of God, to join together this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony. Marriage is a sacred covenant, which should be entered into reverently. You are here to bear witness to this loving union.”

I’ve heard this speech so many times, but only now does it feel meaningful. Today, the words are meant for me, about me, and about Rayna, the woman I’ve selected to be with until I die.

Someone else may find that realization overwhelming, but for me, it’s thrilling. I feel like I’ve won a battle, and I’m finally claiming my prize.

My Rayna.

“Please, join hands, so we may begin.”

My bride’s eyes don’t leave mine as she wraps her fingers around my hand, holding tight. Our connection is warm and soft, but I offer a small, encouraging squeeze in response to her own.

“Instead of exchanging personal vows, our couple today has chosen to hear a traditional reading of 1st Corinthians.”

Neither Rayna nor I are particularly religious, but the passage is commonly recited in our circle, and hearing it will add to the legitimacy of our ceremony. Not to mention, Yordan called the words beautiful, which fully cemented our choice for Rayna.

“Love is patient,” he begins, projecting for the whole crowd to hear. “Love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”

Love hasn’t been a topic of discussion with my bride, not yet. But the way her eyes shine as she listens, makes me wonder if it will be, sooner than later.

The traditional vows come next, no more delaying the purpose of today.

“Apollo Moretti, do you take Rayna Todorova to be your lawfully wedded wife from this day forward—to have and to hold, in good times and bad, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health? Will you honor, cherish, and protect her for as long as you both shall live?”

“I will.”

Rayna’s breath catches.