Page 116 of The Delta’s Rogue (Crescent Lake #4)
“I, Sara Anaís Goodrich Cisneros, promise to govern and protect every lycan and werewolf, whether they be from a pack, a nomad, a rogue, or a lone wolf.”
Her voice rings clear and true throughout the greenhouse.
There is no hesitancy within her tone and no anxiety in the bond.
She doesn’t check for my permission like she still so often does.
There’s no trace of the nightmares that sometimes plague her—nightmares that send her into my arms when she can’t remember what’s real and what isn’t, nightmares that she fights with everything in her to be rid of.
She bears the scars on her skin proudly, showing them off for the world to see how strong and brave she is, and she enjoys her much deserved moment of peace and attention as she becomes our queen.
“I promise to rule with justice and fairness, and exact my judgment according to the laws set forth by my ancestors. I promise to follow in the footsteps of Conan, first lycan and first monarch, and protect those who cannot protect themselves, even if it means risking my own life to do so. I promise to do all this and more for as long as I serve the crown, until I pass it to my heir or take my final breath. All this I promise to myself, to the Goddess, and to my people.”
Malachi beams with pride as she recites the monarch’s vow, and when she finishes, he places the crown on her head. “Rise, Queen Sara Anaís Goodrich Cisneros. Rise, and greet your people.”
She turns to face the crowd, and explosive applause, cheers, and howls ping off the glass walls. She dips her chin to them, a serene smile on her face, and when she rises once more, her eyes lock with mine .
I bow to her from my place at the back of the greenhouse, where I wait for my turn to be crowned. I bow to her not just as the queen of the lycans and werewolves, as the alpha of alphas, but as the queen of my heart.
“Queen Sara,” Malachi says once the cheers die down. “Do you have a mate you wish to crown as your consort today?”
Her serene smile turns cheeky as she gestures towards me. “I do.”
I walk down the aisle as she walks to her right, heading up the stairs to the balcony and then down the identical stairs on the opposite side, collecting my crown along the way.
My red cloak—a less fancy, unembellished version of hers—drags on the floor behind me.
We meet at the foot of the stairs, and I drop to one knee and place my right arm across my chest with my fist above my heart.
She stands one step above me and holds my crown over my head as she asks me to take my vows as her consort.
“Sebastian. Do you promise to serve the crown and every lycan and werewolf to the best of your ability? Do you promise to stand up for what is right and condemn what is wrong?”
“I do.”
“Do you promise to be my soft place to land and my strength? Do you promise to bear every burden for me when it becomes too overwhelming? Do you promise to support me, protect me, and take care of me so I can take care of our kingdom?”
I lift my eyes to hers while keeping my respectful posture as she repeats the words I said to her so many nights ago, when I accepted my role as her mate. “ Te lo prometo ,” I swear. “I do.”
Her throat bobs and her bottom lip quivers. “Then I officially proclaim you King Sebastian Henry Goodrich, consort to Queen Sara Anaís Goodrich Cisneros.”
She places the crown on my head. I brace myself for the impact.
It’s heavier than I expected. Not uncomfortably so, but I imagine the longer I wear it, the heavier it will become.
It’s a reminder of the importance of our roles. That they are a burden for us to bear together. A reminder that the power can weigh anyone down, that no one is immune to the temptations having power brings, and that we must wield it carefully and judiciously.
“Do I get to kiss you now?” I ask .
“Like you need to ask.”
I rise to my feet. Even with her standing on the bottom step, I tower over her. My lycan delights in the size difference.
Hell, so do I.
As the audience breaks into a second round of tumultuous cheers and howls, amplified by the extra boisterous cheers from my family and friends, I take my queen in my arms and, with a crown on my head and hers, we kiss for the entire world to see.
I stand at the edge of the party, sipping a glass of ice-cold water and watching the evening unfold. Reid and Savvy stand center stage on the dance floor. Her hands wrap around his fingers, and he bends to her level, singing and shaking his butt to the music.
It’s hard to believe she’s already a year old now. It seems like yesterday Reid told us Taryn was expecting, and now Savvy is walking and saying “mama”, “dada”, and her personal favorite, “Cav”.
Taryn holds a sleeping Austin at a nearby table.
She laughs at Reid’s ridiculous faces and smiles at their adorable daughter.
Wes and Haven dance near Reid, with Dylan held between them.
Nolan sits at the same table as Taryn, with Cassandra on his lap, the two of them lost in their own world as they whisper to each other.
Maddie and my mom stand near the cake table with Malachi, Micah, and Tatiana.
Sarina—my queen—flits around, speaking with anyone who stops to congratulate her.
My eyes follow her as she journeys through the room. The giant golden wolf embroidered into the back of her cloak sparkles almost as brightly as her smile, and the moon phases sewn around the edge next to the fur wink in and out of sight, like twinkling stars in a midnight sky.
It’s been hours since the coronation ended. Hours that we spent in a receiving line, sitting for portraits, eating a seven-course meal, and listening to toasts. Hours that we spent playing host and hostess to guests from packs all over the world .
The sun has been set for a while now. Stars peek through the dark expanse of the sky, and I’m ready for some time alone with my queen.
Across the room, Sarina makes her way to our families.
I straighten, set my glass on a nearby table, and head that way as well. I swing myself into her path, cutting her off before she can reach them. My hands settle on her waist, right above where her skirt poofs out, and her palms fly to my chest.
Surprised confusion lights up her eyes, followed by a sweet but slightly tired smile when she realizes it’s me.
“Can I steal you away?” I murmur as she snuggles her cheek against me. “I want to watch the stars with you.”
“On the greenhouse roof?” Her brows lift hopefully.
I smirk down at her. “Where else?”
I glance around to ensure no one is watching us. Then I slip her hand into mine and beeline for a side exit.
As soon as we’re out the door, I break into a run. Sarina lifts her dress and follows behind me. Neither of us run as fast as we normally would. Our regalia is too heavy, and I’m pretty sure her mom would skin me alive if we ruined any of it.
We’re both laughing the entire way to the greenhouse. When we reach it, we climb a trellis to the roof as carefully as possible. I make it to the top first, then I turn to help her the rest of the way, pulling her into my embrace as soon as she straightens.
Our lips meet at the same moment her body slams into mine. Her hands fumble with the clasps of my cloak, undoing them and shoving the heavy garment off my shoulders. It slips onto the rooftop, and she flings her arms around my neck, kissing me harder.
“I need you, Sebastián ,” she moans into my mouth.
We can’t get our clothes off fast enough after that.
I need her as desperately as she needs me.
I remove her cloak, and spread both hers and mine side by side on the roof before I unlace the back of her corseted gown.
She slides her arms out of the sleeves once the dress is loosened.
I peel off my suit, and once we’re both naked—except for our crowns—I lay her out beneath me on the red velvet.
“ Te amo, Sebastián ,” she whispers.
I kneel between her thighs and hover over her.
Her rapturous sigh dances around us as I kiss and tease her mark.
We both shudder in delight as our heated skin ignites the sparks of the mate bond everywhere we touch, and her back arches as the tip of my cock finds her soaking-wet pussy, sliding all the way inside her, and I make love to her under the stars.
“ Te amo , Little Rogue.”
The rubies in her crown twinkle in the starlight, marking her as a queen for all to see. But to me, she’ll always be Sarina. My little rogue.
THE EN D