When two dark hearts connect

The vows

Chapter three

Azriel’s pov

“You do have a choice” kael murmured

I sat on the high,swaying bow of the ironwood tree,taking a slow pull from my flask and let the burn settle in my chest

Beside me sat Kael, my closest friend and the only person in this wretched guild I actually trust.

“Do I?”

“we can kill her during the wedding.let the others strike from the shadows while the ceremony takes place nobody will suspect.you will be standing right there at the altar.”

I shook my head,the liquor turning to ash on my tongue. “ if we kill her,they will just find another girl from ictus volex to tie to me.It solves nothing”

Besides,a darker,far more territorial pulse throbbed inside my ribs at the thought.The mere idea of another man laying a hand on her made my vision swim with red.

She is mine to kill. Mine to destroy. Mine to marry. M.I.N.E.

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The wedding takes place on neutral ground at the centre of the kingdom lukomorye.

It is a massive courtyard.

Floating runes drift to the air.Glowing blue magic lanterns cast cold,flickering light across the stone pillars.

Every inch of the arena shimmers with enchanted warding,holding a tense,fragile peace of our rival guilds.

I stand in the main arena with Kael stationed just behind my shoulder.

I am wearing a tailored, double-breasted black coat of heavy brocade,

structured with sharp shoulders and silver filigree crawling up the lapels.

A high-collared silk shirt presses against my throat, fastened with a heavy silver clasp.

It is less a groom's attire and more armor woven for a funeral.

Seraphine walks down the aisle.

She wears a fitted black gown of matte silk, sweeping heavily against the stone floor.

The fabric is layered and reinforced, cleverly tailored to conceal a full arsenal of throwing daggers and hidden blades along her thighs and spine.

As she draws closer beneath the glowing runes, my breath catches.

With the harsh ambient light catching her sharp jawline and the cold defiance in her eyes,

a sudden, unfamiliar thought hits me hard: she is breathtaking.

How had I never noticed just how stunning she truly was until tonight?

Her dark, long hair reaches past her hips, catching the cold glow of the floating runes as she moves.

As she moves closer, every step is deliberate, her hips swaying with a lethal, effortless grace beneath the heavy silk.

She is cold, calculating, and just as sharp-minded as I am,a predator wrapped in mourning black.

Desire flares so hard and fast it makes my c**k twitch against the restriction of my trousers, a sudden, violent heat pooling in my gut.

the craving to break that cold defiance to make her shatter beneath me nearly consumes me right there at the altar.

Her full lips are pressed into a hard, unyielding straight line, yet they look dangerously kissable.

A sudden, ravenous hunger claws at my throat.

I want to devour her mouth like a starving man, tasting her defiance until I force her to forget her name and make her scream mine instead.

As she finally steps up beside me, the fierce, suffocating heat of desire instantly crashes against the icy wall of reality.

We are enemies, bound by a forced truce to satisfy our masters' paranoia. She doesn't want me standing beside her.

She wants me dead. And looking into those cold brown eyes, I know she would slit my throat the second she found an opening just as I would mine to hers.

Up front, seated in the center of the dais like vulture kings, both masters of our respective assassin guilds watched our every move.

Still in their masks.

Denim stood glaring daggers at me and my men.

This was just a fragile treaty, a temporary leash placed around our necks by men who wanted our guilds chained together.

Across the open expanse of the aisle, the two factions of our assassin groups sat rigidly separated

glaring daggers at one another across the stone floor.

The tension was thick enough to choke on, every hand hovering dangerously close to a concealed hilt, waiting for a single misstep to turn the wedding into a bloodbath.

Let the ceremony begin," booms the voice of the Master of Ictus Volex, cutting through the heavy silence of the arena like a razor.

Stepping forward to officiate is an ancient, weathered priest whose robes look as if they have survived centuries.

He is draped in heavy, yellowed linen hemmed with faded gold embroidery, smelling faintly of frankincense and dust.

A thick mantle of dried olive leaves and crimson silk is pinned across his shriveled shoulders with a bone brooch, marking him as a relic from an older.

He raises a trembling, liver-spotted hand toward the floating runes above us, his voice rattling like dry bones as he begins to invoke the ancient vows.

As the ancient priest chants, a brilliant golden shimmer erupts from the elaborate floral arrangements and decorative plants lining the aisle.

The sparkling energy surges forward, weaving into a glowing, shimmering thread that binds our wrists together as we are forced to take each other's hands.

The moment her skin touches mine, a violent jolt of magic shoots up my arm like an electric current.

It hits me straight in the groin, an instantaneous, scorching shock that makes my c**k bulge, turning stone-hard inside my trousers with a breathless, agonizing jolt of desire.

You may kiss the bride," the ancient priest rasps, his dry voice echoing off the stone pillars.

Seraphine’s entire body goes rigid, her brown eyes widening in sudden, sharp defiance as she realizes what comes next.

Before she can wrench her bound wrists away or slide a hand down to her thigh for a blade, I move.

I grab her by the nape of her neck, my fingers locking into her long, dark hair, and pull her hard against my chest.

I don't hesitate. I crash my mouth down onto hers.

She turns to stone beneath my lips,

a breathless gasp trapped in her throat, but I don't give her an inch to pull away.

I devour her mouth, tasting the fierce, biting fury on her tongue, driving into her with a raw, starving hunger.