Faery Wedding(5)

“Lady Asharra!” Serazette protested as the rest of the bridesmaid scurried to form up behind her. “They’re not ready for you.”

Ash delivered a withering look, somehow managing to look down her nose at the taller woman. She hated the Fae, every last frigging one of them. If she could, she’d disown every drop of Fae blood in her own body and join the Host like her Slaugh grandmother.

“Tough shit. I am ready.”

With that, she brushed past the bridesmaid and headed for the open door to the church. She was two steps through the door before the gathered guests, not expecting her just yet, started to murmur. A slight smirk crossed her lips as a yelp emanated from the organist’s box. The church filled with music as the first few bars of the wedding march were rushed through at breakneck speed. Teach him to be napping on the job.

The guests rose to their feet hurriedly. Ash ignored the whispering as she fixed her gaze on the stained-glass window above the altar and kept on walking. Grace…beauty…she reminded herself, even though rage and despair rolled through her in equal amounts. Her gaze followed the ornate patterns in the glass.

Like all Fae handiwork, even the designs held power, the witching coiling like a mist across the glass, giving the designs light and colour despite the darkness of night outside. Concentrating, she drew comfort and solace from them.

Her steps brought her closer to the altar. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the figures standing there, but she refused to look until she absolutely had to. Odd though, her bridegroom was taller than she’d thought, and his general size more youthful than she’d expected from a man so old.

Running out of aisle, she was forced to stop. The priestess of the Great Mother smiled down at her benevolently. Ash returned her smile tightly. She didn’t want to be here, every cell in her body screamed for her to drop the bouquet, lift up her skirt and run back down the aisle.

She didn’t. With a deep sigh of regret, she bid her freedom goodbye and turned to face her groom. Her eyes widened in recognition as shock thrummed through her body.

“You!”

Deverell stood in front of her, an arrogant, smug smile across his handsome face. A smile she instantly wanted to slap off. Ash wasn’t a genius, but neither was she slow. The pieces all slotted into place in her head with a click and her eyes narrowed. Anger throbbed through her body like an aneurysm about to rupture.

“You!”

“Yeah, doll. You said that.” His grin grew wider, as though he found the whole situation highly amusing. Ash actually lifted a hand, the urge to wipe the grin off his face almost too much. “I know I’m good looking and all, but I didn’t expect to make you repeat yourself. Although,” he leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “You can repeat ‘Oh Gods, Dev, yes!’ all you’d like later.”

Ash froze as surely as if someone had poured a bucket of ice-cold water down her spine. He’d lied to her, or rather hadn’t told her the truth even when he’d known who she was. Known she was worried about the wedding today.

Bastard.

Cold, hard as nails, perfect Fae Lady, she reminded herself. Pulling back just enough to look him in his sexy-as-hell green eyes, she smiled. She’d been told she had a pretty smile, when she chose. This was not one of those times.

Instead, she reached inside herself and sought the darkness in her blood, the darkness that circled through her veins and stole her ability to scream. Releasing her hold on it, she let it fill her eyes and power the smile.

“I don’t think so, My Lord. Do you?”

She was pissed. The realization took Dev back a little. Contrary little madam. He’d thought she’d be glad she was marrying him, not the old fossil she’d thought she was being shackled to. Where was the delighted, happy little sprite he’d expected to see? Not only expected to see, but expected to be thanking him profusely for saving her from a fate worse than death, preferably showing that gratitude later in their bedchamber.

“Are we ready to begin?” The Priestess in front of them asked, all benign happiness, as she gazed down on the ‘happy couple’ totally oblivious to the fact the groom was perplexed and the bride looked ready to lynch anyone who argued with her. He’d seen it before with his father’s second—or was it third?—wife. It started with sharp looks, and before you knew it, it was all pitchforks and burning torches.

“Yeah, might as well get on with it. Not like I’ve got anything better to do.”

Ash yawned and studied her nails. Dev gritted his teeth and ignored the urge to shake her. What the fuck was wrong with her? Couldn’t she see what an honor he was doing her?