Page 90 of Inconvenient Marriage
EPILOGUE
TWO MONTHS LATER
ANNALIESE
The bonfire crackles, flames licking at the stone wall surrounding the base before rising up, billowing in the August breeze. It carries the stink of burned skin with it. You’d think that, after more than a half an hour of watching new members get branded-in and some of the Used choosing the fire in front of the crowd, I’d have grown nose-blind to it.
Nope. It had only gotten worse to the point that Sebastien waited until Colton Claimed Miranda—my baby sister accepting his Claim—before he laced his fingers with mine, tugging on my hand, and leading me away from the crowd gathered around to watch the Claiming ceremony.
They’re only eighteen. Miranda already told me that she and Colt are planning a long engagement. He wants to attend the Order University, and as his new fiancée, she’s going to be attending the same school, free of charge. They’ll plan their wedding after they graduate, well before Colt turns thirty.
Or, rather,I’ll plan it. My type-A personality nudged me to nag Miranda for a season at least. I’ve blocked off the autumn five years from now so that I don’t accidentally book another party. Oh, no. I’ll give Miranda and Colton the wedding they deserve.
Just like I planned the best wedding for my husband and me.
I liked the intimacy of us getting married in St. Catherine’s with only our family there to see us exchange vows in front of Father Francis. The reception at Sebastien’s favorite café was perfect, even if that bitchy waitress purposely spilled the glass of red wine all over my dress.
Because she did. Sebastien totally confirmed it, and after that, we haven’t gone back yet.
And, true, I might’ve thought it was a fake marriage then, but I know better now. I still wouldn’t change a thing about our union, though I notice Sebastien watching me curiously out of the side of his eye as guides me away from the assembled crowd.
“What?” I ask.
“Just wondering something.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
One hand is wrapped around my shoulders. It’s August in Harmony Heights and that means it’s really, really hot. Kind of swampy really. I know how much my husband likes it when I dress down—as though I’m shaking off the last remnants of Eric’s training—but I chose to wear a thin-strapped, lightweight sundress to my sister’s Claiming ceremony. I paired it with a pair of high-heeled sandals, bringing me a little closer in height to Sebastien. Instead of being tucked under his arm, I’m snuggled up against him, resting my head on the edge of his shoulder.
He’s not wearing his road jacket. It’s near. He left it in the car, but he pointed out that, if I’m dressing up for the occasion, he might as well do the same to support his sister-in-law. I nearly started to drool when he revealed the crisp light pink polohe has on over his dark denim jeans. He managed to match his shirt to my dress perfectly, and if I can’t wait to peel it off of him and bury my face in his chest… that’s okay.
He is my husband, after all.
I smile up at him.
Sebastien nearly misses a step before righting himself, squeezing me closer to him. “Fuck me, love. One smile from you and I nearly fell flat on my face. I gotta be more careful.”
I wrap my arm around his lower back. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
He drops a kiss to the top of my head. “I know. And that’s what has me thinking… do you regret not getting to go through this?”
“Through what?”
“The whole Claiming bullshit. I could go in front of Dallas and the others and tell ‘em that you’re mine. Claim you for real. Let all of Harmony Heights know that you’re the Offering for me.”
He’s already done that. In a million small ways since I was panicked and desperate enough to walk around the Court, asking whoever would listen if they would marry me, Sebastien Reynolds has proven that hechoseme. That helovesme.
“I’m your wife.”
“You are,” he agrees readily.
“And didn’t you tell…” I hesitate. It’s been two months and I still stumble a little whenever I think of the prick that I wasted so many years with. “…Ericthat you have a blood oath?”
“I bled all over that fucking piece of paper.” He turns his hand over so that we both can look at his brand—his brand, and the thin pink scar that bisects part of it. “I was a little eager,” he admits with a low chuckle. “Cut myself more than I meant to, but I Claimed you in front of Dallas that day. It was sealed by theKing. You were considered mine in the eyes of the Order from that moment on.”
That’s what I thought. “We had our wedding. We’ve been married since the end of March. Five months now, babe… I don’t think I can be any more Claimed than that.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” He gives me another squeeze. “Hey. Come with me to the car? I have something in my jacket pocket I want to give you.”
