The marriage rite was straightforward. He would wrap a sacred tie of leather made from the hide of the last L?tān around their clasped hands as they repeated vows.
He asked her, “Are you ready?” He’d told her what she would say, a basic pledge of self.
She hesitated, then nodded.
Curling his finger under her chin, he lifted her face. Brows drawn, she bit her bottom lip.
What he wouldn’t give to know her thoughts now. As he gazed down at her, the millennia faded away until he felt as if he’d held her in his arms just yesterday at a dance in Sylvan.
“What are you contemplating, Calliope?” he asked, though he suspected she’d never answer.
She surprised him by saying, “How I will live without everything I’m giving up.”
The idea of her pining for her fiancé sent Sian’s jealousy skyrocketing. “You’ll simply have to find other things to satisfy you.” He would make her forget that prick if it killed him.
“I won’t hold my breath.” Gesturing at her filthy dress, she said, “Not exactly how I imagined my wedding. But this is just how I would imagine yours.”
He supposed young females cared about such things. “Perhaps if you please me as a wife, I will grant you a more formal coronation.”
“Be still, my beating heart. You’re really sweeping me off my feet, demon.”
Undaunted, he conjured the L?tān tie, then took her hand. As he wrapped the binding around his wrist, then hers, Calliope’s gaze rested on his long claws. Their hands looked as mismatched as the rest of their bodies.
Yet fate said she was the only female with whom he could feel complete.
When he retracted his claws, her attention shifted to his wings, then to his fangs, then his horns. His mate was sizing him up, no doubt wondering how they would be together sexually.
Her behavior struck him as heartening. The real problem would be if she refused to look at him at all.
He’d asked himself what Goürlav had been thinking to imagine a future with a beauty. Wouldn’t Goürlav ask him the same?
Sian didn’t care. For lifetimes, he’d dreamed about what could have been with this female. For better or for worse, he had to know.
TWENTY-NINE
Déjà vu hit Lila the second they’d appeared in this throne room. Had she seen this place in a dream? How could she have? She’d never been here before.
Shaking off that odd sense, she focused on getting through this wedding. Her wedding.
She had yearned for control over her life—yet she was about to have less of it than ever before. She would be under the thumb of a dominant demon.
Who was an enemy.
She doubted an immortal as old as Abyssian held modern marriage views. Talk about a male set in his ways.
But she’d secured a measure of protection for her people. She needed to take comfort in that.
She wondered what Saetth would do when he found out she’d married Abyssian. N?x would no doubt tell him—especially if they’d been in league for that portion of the plot. . . .
Abyssian began his vows. In his deep, accented voice, he promised to treasure and protect her.
She tensed when a marble throne started to materialize on the dais beside his. Was the castle providing it for her?
Once the demon concluded, he gave her hand a squeeze.
Oh. My turn.
She delicately cleared her throat and recited her vows. As she finished—“This I promise until the end of time”—her throne appeared fully.
Engravings marked the back of it. She skimmed some of the Demonish words: Mistress of this castle, lady of flames, dark queen of this land.
Fate had always wanted her to be a queen.
Memories of hard-won political lessons from her childhood surfaced. Here she would be hated by a united populace—just because of her species. She’d probably have more than Rune to worry about.
“I’m to kiss you now,” Abyssian said, leaning down.
She averted her face.
He didn’t complain, just pulled her against his body and grazed his lips over her cheek.
There. They’d done it.
Her ears twitched when hounds howled from the brush. Lightning flared outside, and volcanoes rumbled.
The dimension seemed to go askew. Her skin grew even more hypersensitive; chills raced over it.
In those lightning bursts, Abyssian’s features appeared more demonic. Something was happening here—much more than a wedding.
Yet he didn’t behave as if anything was different.
Lila sensed that hell was happy about the marriage. She felt as if this realm was . . . welcoming her.
Crazy, right?
She’d been so busy concentrating on her new groom that she hadn’t given much thought to the other aspects of this union. She would be making her home in a land that was as fierce as it was mystical.
For an eternity of eternities.
He drew back. “You are now Queen Calliope the first, of Pandemonia and All Hells.” Thunder boomed, and the castle quaked.
Too much to process. I turned immortal. I got off with a demon. Did I really just get hitched to a M?ri?r? How could someone like me be the queen of hell? Don’t have anyone I can talk to about this.
Unlike Persephone, Lila would live in hell permanently. Which meant she needed to figure this realm—and her new husband—the fuck out.
Fast.
He traced them back to his bedroom. What would happen now? He waved his hand, and that familiar gold band appeared between two of his fingers. “I want you to wear this. I exchanged the confinement spell for contraception.”
“Whatever.” She snatched the ring and shoved it on. With that consideration taken care of, would he just toss her on the bed and do it? A shiver of dread coursed up her spine. “Now what?”
“You and I will take a bath.”
“I figure I can stumble my way through one on my own.”
“Alas, I cannot,” he said with a smirk she longed to slap off his face. “In this realm, a wife is expected to wash her husband.”