Page 36 of Point of No Return

I can’t bear to listen to the words as the officiant says them. I’m focused on Skar, on the blue-gray of his eyes, on the feeling of his hands, on anything except for the actuality of what’s happening. We haven’t talked since the rehearsal. But I can still remember our last conversation clearly.

“We don’t have to pretend,”I told him. The last words I said to him, and now I’m going to put a ring on my finger and marry him. He doesn’t look away from me, even as we recite our lines to each other.

“The rings,” the officiant says at some point, and it’s my turn to go first.

“With this ring,” I repeat. “I, thee, wed and pledge you my love now and forever.”

The golden band slides over his finger easily, and I hope to God my hands aren’t trembling as he proffers a ring from his own pocket. The moment it fits over my finger, I’m unable to look away from it. The ring is the perfect complement to the engagement band. Garnet and diamond and stunning gilded metal work.

“With this ring, I thee, wed. I pledge you my love- now and forever,” his voice echoes somewhere distant.

The officiant is saying something else, something I can’t hear even if I bothered trying. My heart hammers, and I feel so goddamn hot in this dress that I must be sweating.

“You may kiss the bride.”

Panic officially sets in. I gulp down a breath when Skar releases my hands. He lifts the veil, carefully resting the lace down my shoulders. His eyes search mine for all of a moment before his hand tilts my jaw up toward him and then he’s kissing me. This kiss is nothing like our first. Our first was short, sweet, surprising enough that I nearly reached up and touched my mouth after just to make sure it happened.

But this one… There’s nothing short, nothing sweet, about it. His lips are searing, demanding, warm. And for a moment, I’m so shocked that I just stand here. But then I feel his tongue sweeping the seam of my mouth, swiping over the split in my lip and sending a quick shock of pain through me.

And I open for him. When I feel that damn smirk against me, I know he did it on purpose. But he tastes so damn good that I don’t care. I kiss him back. Willingly. Greedily. I’m dazed when we finally pull away.

The crowd is clapping, cheering, but it all fades into the background as I look at him again.

What the hell was that?I want to ask, but we’re quickly swept back into the chaos of it all.

The photographers are flashing photos as we walk back down the aisle, hand-in-hand until we get to the marbled foyer in between the ceremonial room and the reception.

More photographers are already waiting at the staircase which is flanked with glittering stained glass windows on either side. We’re directed through a series of poses and positions while guests are filed toward the reception hall. Tyson and my parents join us for a few portraits before long, and out of all the things I’ve been forced to do for this marriage, it’s definitely the most awkward.

“Charles, why don’t you stand on the step above Eva- Yes. Tyson, below Skar. Beautiful. Everyone- smile!” the photographer sings, but I’m sure there won’t be a single real smile in the final product.

Facing Skar with his hands on either side of my waist, I’m rooted in place. The dress is beginning to itch with my mother standing so close. I do my best not to fidget, but when she scoots even closer for another shot, I press closer to him, resting my hands on the lapels of his jacket.

“What’s next?” he murmurs, squeezing my waist. “We cut cake and take turns feeding each other for the cameras?” I scoff at that.

“Skar, Charlotte, that’s perfect! Hold that.”

We hold the pose, and I smile at the camera as I whisper back. “Of course not. I explicitly told Liv- I don’t share cake.”

His only reaction is to squeeze my waist again, the heat of his touch too distracting. As his father watches over us, Skar shifts toward me, and I’m sure his frown is back as Tyson smiles.

The tension between them has only gotten worse in recent weeks, but today feels like a whole different minefield. Skar is practically shaking with silent rage, and I can tell he’s about one second from doing something he’ll regret.

So, I grab the lapels of his suit again, directing his attention toward me.

“Where are we staying this week?” I ask quietly.

It isn’t a honeymoon, but for appearances sake, I know we aren’t staying at Viserion. Skar is still watching his father, and I sigh as I do one of the only things I can to get his attention short of kissing him- which I can’t do again.

I let my fingers trace over the tattoos at the base of his throat. My fingertips wander over the dark ink, and I smile when he visibly swallows, finally looking at me. I repeat my question, surprised when his hand absently traces a path up my gown into my hair.

“We own a villa off of the Drumstone river. It’s in Venine.”

I’ve never been to Venine, but I know the drive will take several hours from here.

“We,” I taste the word, my throat tight when his hand traces the line of my jaw.

“Perfect, guys! You both look amazing!”

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