Chapter 9: Not Into a Happy Ending

DEVA LOREN/ LANA ALVAREZ.

Neither Aaron nor Sophie spoke to me until the wedding. They thought they were punishing me by saying nothing, but what they didn't know was that I was a woman who loved her peace more than anything. And that means, to hell with them both. We had to wait for a full moon before we could bind ourselves together. My parents, whom I wish actually acted like one, arrived a day before. Jade prepped me to have babies, but Alpha Cain wanted me to be his maltreated, unpaid spy. His weapon of convincing? Threats to kill me in addition to father and daughter connections. One he never had with the real Deva.

They dressed me like a bride, but I wasn’t one.

I stood at the edge of the ceremonial hall, draped in white, but not the kind that meant innocence. This white was ceremonial and deliberate. The gown was stitched from layers of crushed velvet and silk organza, a soft, smooth fall of fabric sculpted to my frame. The bodice hugged my waist in grand, fashionable stiffness, pearl-laced and bone-tight, with long sleeves that tapered into dagged cuffs lined with silver thread. The skirt poured down in thick waves, sweeping behind me like I was born to glide. I wasn’t, but they made me look like I was. Funny how I thought my wedding would be the best thing that has ever happened to me. I was marrying my dream man, but that dream is now nothing but a nightmare.

Black embroidery crept across the hem in delicate, venomous vines, roses, thorns, and wolves. Symbols of the Alpha’s house, stitched into my train like a warning, like a leash. My hair was braided back in tight coils, a few dark curls left loose by my cheeks, pinned with white sapphires and cold silver combs. A sheer veil sat over my shoulders, not to hide my face, but to soften the sharpness of what I’d become.

Beauty was a weapon here, and tonight, I was the blade.

The air was sharp with crushed herbs, spiced with smoke curling from silver braziers that lined the aisle. Wolf banners hung from the vaulted ceiling, black wolves on gray silk, silent and watching. Nobles filled the long wooden benches in rows, whispering behind gloved hands, murmuring beneath lace fans. They all came to witness a ceremony, but not out of love. They came to see power bind flesh, to watch an Alpha take a concubine like one claims a prize at the end of war.

He arrived in silence, no trumpets, no fanfare, no announcement. Alphas didn’t need noise to be noticed. He walked through the great doors like the room shifted around him, cloaked in slate-gray robes and obsidian fur, a circlet of blackened gold resting on his head, sharp and unshared. His eyes didn’t find mine until he stood directly before me, and even then, they held nothing. It was so hard to tell what he was thinking and I hated it. I hated him for it. For pushing me away, before I convinced him that I could stay. Before I made a move to trick me into falling for him, the way he did with me in the past.

He used me. Why can't I do the same?

I was supposed to walk in after this man, just guess who appeared late to his own wedding? I sighed and heard all the hushed whispers spat to kill my spirit. I saw my Jade worried and my supposed father angry at me. Good joy.

The High Priest stepped forward with a scroll and a ceremonial blade. The ritual was ancient, older than any of us. Words from the old tongue fell like a curse, followed by the blade, the blood, the binding. Not a promise, not affection. A contract between dominance and submission, between legacy and obedience.

I bit my lip when the blade sliced my finger. He didn’t flinch when it cut his. He didn’t smile.

We signed, his mark above mine.

There was no exchange of rings; he already had one on his finger for another woman. She sat among council members with no emotion on her face. No one could tell if she couldn't wait to congratulate or murder me, but I already knew she was planning how nice I'd look in a coffin. I didn't have my wolf back, but it doesn't take much to read the room when it is not the first time you've been subjected to experiences that are soul-breaking.

The priest declared me bound to Aaron, by tradition and blood. Not a wife, not a queen, not a mate. Just a woman sewn into his dynasty, dressed in beauty, wrapped in elegance, and pain beneath it all.

He didn’t kiss me when the priest asked me to; he turned to me and grazed his lips on the side of my lip, holding me in that position for a while, having the public eye think we wanted to share something intimate only we could understand. I should've hated the proximity, but the old me was such a fool that I closed my eyes and relished it. All I ever wanted was before me, but it gave me the total opposite of what I thought it'd be like, it wrecked me and shattered me in the worst ways possible, a tear slid past my eyes, not one but multiple.

I did all I could to hold it in; my hand shook and my legs trembled beneath my gown. Speaking would be a difficult exam to pass as a lump from nowhere sleeps in my throat, leaving no room for my vocal cords.

His eyes softened for a second, like he had realized how much his actions affected me, but he masked it as fast as it appeared. The more I studied him, the more I realized that I didn't know him.

The Aaron I knew as Lana would never see a woman cry and not show any sympathy.

The man-

My thoughts faded as he brought a handkerchief from his pocket. It was red, and the recognition of it did more to me than whatever he had been doing the past few days.

I opened it and found my embroidery on it. 'Lana' is written in beautiful cursive writing.

Why does he still have this?

"T-this-"

"Wipe your tears." He took the piece of clothing from me. "Never mind." He coldly said as he dabbed my tears with it on his own. "You're going to make people think that I'm treating you badly." He stated.

I brushed his hand off. "You weren't there to welcome me, you yell at me, you come late to the wedding, and you say I'm going to let people think I'm treating you badly?" I bitterly added. "Your actions already speak louder than mine regarding that. If you're so worried about your reputation? Do better.

"Keep your hands to yourself for now you two; you can save it for the first-night ritual."

Sophie was the first to break the awkward silence in the registry.

Aaron gave her a curt smile then gave me his arm to hold while we walked out together, not into a happy ending, but into something we both were not prepared for.