Bound to Four

Four Grooms

The crowd erupted.

The sound hit Liora as a physical force, loud enough to make the stone beneath her feet vibrate.

One man had made it across.

Seven days of survival secured.

Unless he drained her dry the first night.

Her stomach twisted as heat rolled up from the lava below, thick and suffocating against her skin.

Then,

another impact.

Close enough that she felt it through the soles of her shoes.

The announcer’s voice boomed overhead.

“WE HAVE TWO GROOMS!”

Liora’s head snapped up just in time to see the vampire reach down and haul the second man onto the platform beside him.

No struggle.

No hesitation.

Just strength. Control.

That alone made something in her chest tighten.

The second man straightened slowly, broad shoulders rolling back, golden-brown skin gleaming beneath the stadium lights. Light brown hair fell loose around sharp, watchful eyes that locked onto her immediately, as if she were the only thing in the arena worth seeing.

A new scent reached her through the smoke and heat.

Damp earth.

Moss.

Something wild.

Her pulse jumped.

Panic rose fast and sharp, but something else flickered beneath it—something warmer, more dangerous.

His head tilted slightly as he took her in, and she found herself wanting to do two impossible things at once.

Run.

Stay.

There was no curiosity in that gaze.

Only possession.

And somehow, that frightened her less than how much part of her wanted to know what it would feel like to be chosen like that.

“SECOND GROOM IS A WEREWOLF!”

Liora swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the bouquet.

Worst possible combination.

Before she could finish the thought, another body landed hard against stone.

The third man rose without urgency, unfolding to his full height as if he had always belonged there. Bare-chested. Opalescent skin untouched by the crossing, smooth and unmarked as though the lava had refused to touch him. Sea-blue hair brushed his shoulders, shifting faintly as it moved with a current only he could feel.

The noise of the crowd bent around him.

Not gone.

Muted.

Still.

“THIRD GROOM… IS A MERMAN!”

Liora stared despite herself.

The faint scent of sea salt brushed past her, clean and sharp, completely wrong this far inland.

Everything about him felt wrong.

Too calm.

Too controlled.

Like he wasn’t trapped in the chaos.

Like he was the reason for it.

And worse,

some quiet, reckless part of her wanted to move closer to that stillness, as if standing near him might somehow make the rest of the world quieter too.

Her gaze drifted before she could stop it, tracing the line of muscle down his chest even as every instinct warned her not to.

And caught.

Too late.

His eyes were already on hers.

Sea-deep.

Knowing.

A flicker of amusement crossed his face, small and private, like he had heard a thought she hadn’t meant to think.

A smirk.

Gone almost instantly.

But her pulse stayed traitorously unsteady.

Her stomach dropped.

One, she might survive.

Two… maybe.

Three…

No.

Another impact followed.

Heavier this time.

The platform trembled beneath her feet.

The last man climbed up without hurry, his presence filling the space before she could fully look at him. Heat pressed outward from him, sharper than the lava, coiling against her skin in a way that made her breath catch.

His eyes lifted.

Red.

Not glowing.

Burning.

Black hair framed a face cut from hard lines, every feature controlled and severe. The shackles at his wrists hung loose, not because they had failed, but because he hadn’t yet decided whether they were worth breaking.

Smoke and ash curled faintly around him.

“FOURTH GROOM IS A DRAGON!”

“IT’S A RECORD!”

A dragon.

Fear slid cold down her spine.

Something hotter followed it.

Sharp.

Immediate.

A pull she didn’t trust and refused to name.

Every instinct screamed run, but some darker, more reckless part of her wanted to step closer to those burning eyes just to see if he would burn her too.

She hated both feelings equally.

The terror.

And the fact that it wasn’t the only thing she felt.

The crowd roared louder.

“BRIDE AND FOUR GROOMS!”

The announcer sounded delighted.

Something rose in Liora’s throat.

A laugh.

A scream.

She couldn’t tell which.

Her hands, still raw from lye soap and prison work, shook beneath the white lace gloves forced onto them. The rhinestone tiara pinned into her hair dug into her scalp with every beat of her pulse.

Someone shoved a bouquet into her hands.

The stems bit into her palms.

Lilies and roses.

Their perfume clashed with the stench of sweat, blood, and fear.

Across from her, four pairs of eyes.

The vampire studied her like a puzzle he had already half solved.

The werewolf looked ready to fight anyone who moved too fast.

The merman revealed nothing.

The dragon didn’t bother hiding his contempt.

I’m going to be eaten on my wedding night.

The announcer raised both arms.

“By ancient law… by sanctioned rite… by the Crown’s blessed entertainment charter…”

Stone shifted beneath their feet.

A wedding arch rose from the platform itself, runes glowing across the rock.

Simple marriage magic.

Liora flinched as cold rolled over her skin like oil.

The ring in her hand heated.

Too hot.

She shoved it onto her finger just to stop the burn.

The announcer smiled wider.

“...TUNE IN TONIGHT TO SEE IF, ”

The runes cracked.

Not gently.

Violently.

Light split through the stone, crimson and wrong, symbols twisting into shapes Liora had never seen before.

The announcer stopped.

Metal snapped tight.

Every shackle on the platform contracted at once.

The four men froze.

Not panicking.

Listening.

Feeling it.

The ring seared.

Pain shot up Liora’s arm so fast she bit through the inside of her cheek.

Copper flooded her mouth.

Behind her, a guard whispered,

“What is the magic doing?”

White fire exploded upward.

Heat swallowed everything.

Liora screamed, but the sound vanished beneath the roar of the arena.

The werewolf swore, teeth flashing sharp.

The dragon snarled, smoke curling between clenched teeth.

The vampire,

laughed.

One sharp note.

Disbelieving.

And the merman,

Moved.

Small.

Precise.

In the chaos, when everything else blurred,

Liora saw it.

His hand.

A flick of his fingers.

Something small and metallic slipped free.

A device.

Tiny.

Gone the second it hit the stone.

Her heart slammed.

That wasn’t panic.

That was the intention.

His lips moved.

Fast.

Low.

Words she didn’t understand.

The magic answered.

Then,

silence.

The fire vanished.

The platform stood still.

Dust settled.

Sweat cooled against her skin.

The announcer’s smile looked strained.

“Just a glitch!” he shouted.

Too fast.

Too loud.

Too false.

Liora looked down.

Her breath stopped.

The ring,

gold.

Not silver.

Heavy.

Alive.

She could feel it.

Threads.

Sharp.

Pulling.

Hunger twisted low in her stomach that wasn’t hers.

Rage burned in her chest.

Fear.

Heat.

Control.

Four emotions.

Four heartbeats.

Not hers.

The merman’s hand relaxed.

Something crunched softly beneath his foot.

Broken metal.

His smile this time was small.

Satisfied.

Not relief.

Victory.

The announcer recovered instantly.

“THE MAGIC HAS CHOSEN, BONDING!”

The crowd exploded like it had all been planned.

Five wands shot toward them in glittering arcs of containment magic.

Too late.

Liora stood frozen, the gold ring pulsing against her skin.

She had wanted freedom.

Instead,

in front of the entire magical world,

she had just married four condemned prisoners.

“BUT, ”

The crowd screamed louder.

Of course there was more.

Liora’s stomach dropped.

The announcer was handed a note.

He read it.

Smiled.

“Oh,” he said, delighted.

“Now this is interesting.”

Liora went cold.

“THERE’S A TWIST!”

Of course, there was.

“If the bond is not sealed in seven days…”

A pause.

A grin.

“THEY DIE.”

The arena erupted.

Liora stared at the four men.

The merman had changed the rules.

Now she couldn’t ignore them.

Now she would feel everything.

Now if she refused,

they wouldn’t go back to prison.

They would die.

Behind her, lava spat and cracked.

In front of her, four predators watched her like she was already theirs.

The vampire stepped closer.

Not fast.

Not threatening.

Which somehow made it worse.

His gaze dropped briefly to the gold ring on her hand, then returned to her face.

A slow smile touched his mouth.

He leaned close enough that only she could hear him.

“Try not to look so terrified,” he said.

The faintest smile.

“It makes the audience think I bite.”