Chapter 11

The long-awaited wedding day had finally arrived. The sun hung high in the sky, casting a soft, golden glow over the grand estate where the ceremony would take place. Everything looked perfect—the flowers, the decorations, and the guests—but Lune felt anything but calm.

In her room, she stared at herself in the mirror, her heart pounding. The wedding dress, a delicate blend of lace and satin, hugged her form, but instead of excitement, a heavy sense of dread filled her chest. It felt suffocating, the weight of her parents' decision pressing down on her shoulders. Her mind raced, thoughts swirling like a storm. Is this really what I want? She wondered, her fingers trembling as she adjusted the veil. The reality of becoming Arlo’s wife, a man she barely knew yet felt trapped by, gnawed at her.

Downstairs, Arlo was placed in a private room, his heart beating with eager anticipation. His patience had run thin over the years, and now the day had come—Lune would finally be his. The months of waiting, planning, and dreaming were about to pay off. His dark eyes gleamed with intensity as he imagined her walking down the aisle toward him. Today, she would no longer be a distant fantasy or an object of his long-held desire; she would be his mate, his wife, bound to him forever.

Lune's parents stood nervously near the entrance to the ceremony, their faces a mix of relief and anxiety. They had done what they believed was necessary—securing their future through Lune’s marriage to Arlo, but they could feel the weight of her silence. The tension between them and their daughter had grown unbearable since the engagement, but they convinced themselves that she would come to understand their decision in time. They exchanged uneasy glances, silently hoping that the price they paid for their financial security wouldn’t cost them their relationship with Lune forever.

The sound of the wedding march began to play, signaling the start of the ceremony. Lune took a deep breath, her feet heavy as she prepared to walk toward a future that felt both inevitable and imprisoning.

As the first notes of the wedding march echoed through the room, Lune took her first steps down the aisle. The grand hall, meant to hold hundreds, felt eerily empty. The rows of chairs were vacant, save for a few faces scattered here and there. Lune’s parents stood near the front, looking proud but tense, while Valerie, her best friend who had just returned from her time away, gave her a reassuring smile from the side. Her presence was a comfort in the sea of uncertainty, but even that wasn’t enough to calm the storm inside Lune.

She noticed only a handful of guests, all strangers, who seemed to belong to Arlo’s world. These people, watching her closely, were unfamiliar—friends of Arlo, no doubt, brought in to witness the ceremony but unaware of who she truly was. Her identity had been kept secret, hidden behind a veil of mystery, at Arlo’s insistence. He didn’t want her revealed to the public just yet, not until everything was sealed between them. That made it all the more isolating.

As she moved forward, the silence felt overwhelming, with the absence of family and friends—people who might have celebrated her under different circumstances. Her feet felt heavier with each step, as though the long, white aisle stretched on forever. Every glance from Arlo’s unknown guests felt cold and distant. She couldn’t help but wonder if any of them even cared about her, or if they were here simply to witness the binding of a deal.

Lune’s heart thudded louder in her chest with each passing second. She caught a glimpse of her parents. Her father’s face was unreadable, while her mother’s gaze flickered with hope—hope that Lune couldn’t share. Valerie, standing alone, mouthed the words “You can do this,” but Lune wasn’t so sure.

And at the end of the aisle, there was Arlo, standing tall in a dark suit, his eyes fixed on her with unyielding intensity. His expression was a mixture of triumph and possession, as though he had already won something long fought for. To him, this was a victory—a moment he had waited for years to claim. But for Lune, it felt more like surrender, a step toward a future that wasn’t truly her own.

The closer she got, the more trapped she felt.

As Lune neared the end of the aisle, her eyes finally settled on Arlo—really seeing him up close for the first time. Until now, she had only caught a brief glimpse of him once, years ago, and the rest she had pieced together from photos on social media. She knew he was powerful, wealthy, and influential, but standing here, face to face, she realized how little the images had prepared her for the man himself.

He was, without question, the most handsome man Lune had ever seen. His features were striking, almost too perfect, as though they had been carved from stone. His jawline was sharp, with just the right amount of stubble, adding an air of ruggedness to his otherwise flawless appearance. His dark hair, neatly styled, framed his face in a way that made him look effortlessly elegant. And his eyes—those deep, piercing eyes—met hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. There was something in the way he looked at her like he had been waiting for this moment his entire life.

He was taller than she remembered, his broad shoulders filling out the tailored suit he wore as if it had been crafted specifically for him. Every inch of him exuded confidence, power, and control. He stood there like a king about to claim his throne, utterly sure of himself, and his presence seemed to command the room, even though it was almost empty.

For a moment, Lune felt her breath catch. There was no denying his appeal. He was more dashing in real life than any photo or rumor could capture. His perfection was almost overwhelming, and despite the turmoil in her heart, she couldn’t help but feel drawn to him in a way she hadn’t expected. It was as though the space between them buzzed with an energy that neither of them could ignore.

Yet beneath that perfection, something was unsettling, something in the way he watched her so intently. He was perfect—almost too perfect—and that made him all the more dangerous. As handsome as he was, Lune couldn’t shake the feeling that this flawless exterior was a mask for something much deeper, something she wasn’t sure she wanted to uncover.

When Arlo laid his eyes on Lune as she approached, his breath caught in his throat. He had imagined this moment for years, envisioned her walking toward him countless times, but nothing compared to the reality standing before him. She was radiant, more beautiful than he could have ever dreamed. Her gown flowed gracefully around her, soft waves of fabric framing her delicate figure, and the light caught the intricate lace, making her shimmer with every step.

But it was her face—her face that nearly undid him. Lune’s beauty was almost ethereal, her features soft yet striking. The veil gently framed her face, but her eyes—those wide, expressive eyes—shone through, holding a mixture of uncertainty and strength that only made her more captivating. Her lips painted the faintest shade of rose, quivering ever so slightly, betraying the nerves she was trying to suppress. Arlo could see it all, every small flicker of emotion, and it took everything in him to maintain his composure.

She was breathtaking.

He had always known she would be beautiful, had watched her from afar as she grew into the woman standing before him, but seeing her now, so close, so real, was almost overwhelming. His heart pounded in his chest, a raw hunger stirring within him that he struggled to contain. There was a possessiveness, yes—a deep, burning desire to claim her as his—but also something more, something unfamiliar. She wasn’t just his prize; she was the woman he had waited for his entire life, and now that she was finally within reach, it took all his self-control not to reveal the depth of his need.

Arlo’s hands clenched at his sides as he fought to steady his breathing, to maintain the composed exterior that had always served him so well. He couldn’t afford to lose himself now, not in front of her, not with the ceremony so close. But with every step she took, every glance she cast his way, his restraint was slipping. She was his—she would be his, and the thought of it sent a thrill through him that nearly made his pulse race out of control.

He swallowed hard, his dark eyes never leaving hers. He forced himself to stay calm, to keep his expression in check, but inside, he was on the edge. She was more than beautiful—she was perfection, and soon she would belong to him entirely. That thought alone almost broke the facade he wore so carefully.

Lune was more than he had ever hoped for, and he could hardly wait any longer.

The ceremony moved forward in a blur for Lune. She stood across from Arlo, the officiant’s voice a low hum in the background as she struggled to focus. Her mind was racing, her heart heavy, but she managed to repeat the vows when prompted, her voice soft and hesitant. Each word felt weightier than the last, binding her closer to a future she still wasn’t sure she could accept.

Arlo, on the other hand, spoke his vows with unwavering confidence. His voice was steady, filled with an intensity that made Lune’s stomach twist. Every promise, every word of devotion was spoken as though he had waited his entire life to say them. His eyes remained locked on hers, dark and unreadable, as if he could see straight through her walls and into the heart she was trying to protect.

As they finished the vows, Lune could feel the air in the room shift. This was it. She was now bound to him—his wife in name and soon in every other way. The weight of it all settled onto her shoulders like an iron cloak, and she fought the urge to look away, to retreat into herself. But Arlo’s gaze held her there, grounded in the moment.

The officiant continued, but when the time came for the customary, "You may now kiss the bride," the words were conspicuously absent. It was Arlo’s decision, Lune realized. He had deliberately left that part out of the ceremony, opting to bypass the kiss entirely. Perhaps it was for her sake, knowing how overwhelmed she already felt. Or maybe it was part of his plan—keeping their public display of affection veiled, as he had done with so much else.

For a fleeting moment, relief washed over her. The thought of Arlo’s touch, of the kiss sealing their union in front of the few gathered witnesses, had filled her with unease. But even in that relief, she couldn’t help but wonder what would come next. Skipping the kiss didn’t change the fact that she was now his, and the reality of that lingered in the air between them.

The ceremony ended quietly, with none of the fanfare that usually accompanied such a momentous occasion. No kiss, no grand applause—just the cold, formal conclusion that marked the end of one life and the beginning of another. Lune’s hands trembled as she lowered them, and as she and Arlo turned to face the few in attendance, she could feel his presence beside her, solid and inescapable.

The vows had been spoken. The marriage was sealed. There was no going back now.