Vows To Him Novels & Stories

“2. I promise to be there for you in sickness, health, good times or bad.” “3. The third vow is for prosperity.” “4. I pledge to take care of our children and educate them. I will remain loyal to you for the rest of my life.” I could feel my heart thumping against my chest with each word I spoke, and I also knew what my words did to him. His hands tightened imperceptibly around my waist with each vow I recited. I didn’t know what made it real, his feverish look of desire or my heated desire to make him mine.

The priest stands in front of us while Knox and I face each other, my hands in his and the way his tremble tells me that I'm not dreaming, all of this is happening now. “Throughout my life, I’ve had a lot of names to carry, and being your husband will be the greatest one of all. I know I was a coward before when I let you go instead of fixing us, and I will never mess up like that again. I will be the kind of man you're proud of, one you deserve. I vow to never let you run again,” he murmurs, thumb stroking my palm. “I vow to make you chase me if I ever do."

“Do you, Dante Romano, take Caterina Caruso to be your wedded wife, to live together in marriage, promise to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, and forsaking all others, be faithful only to her, for as long as you both shall live?” “I do,” Dante said without missing a beat. I wondered how he did it so easily, lying without an ounce of conscience in his body.

They were plain, their meaning indicated only by their weight and by their immaculate, harsh circle. "I do not believe in the God you were raised with, Davidson," he announced, moving to stand before him. "I believe in energy. In strength. In the material. But I believe that a vow between two human beings has power of its own. A weight. It grips tighter than a signature." He stretched out one of the bands. "I want to make that promise to you. Here. Now. To nobody else as a witness. Not because we have to. Because we're choosing to."

“I’m scared people will look at me and see foolishness instead of hope. I’m scared my children will resent me for trying again. I’m scared of burying another man I love.” He stopped walking. He turned to face her fully. “I can’t promise you I’ll live forever,” he said. “I know that,” she said. “But I can promise you this,” he went on. “If I’m lucky enough to stand before you and make a vow, it won’t be about forever. It will be about today. And tomorrow. And every day I’m given. I’ll show up. I won’t run. I won’t hide behind work or a garden or my father’s name. It’ll be me. Just me.”

Invitations stopped. Adrian could still feel the weight of that funeral suit. He had stood at the graveside with his hands clenched so hard his nails cut his palms. He had shaken hands with men who had smiled in his father’s face while helping destroy him. He made a pact then. That day, he made himself a promise: He would never be like his father. He would never give anyone the chance to strike at his softness. He would never believe in words without proof. Even now, years later, the vow was carved into him like stone.

His eyes blaze into mine. “You belong to me, Iris Conrad. Never forget that,” he says, voice full of command, reverence, and something unshakable. “And never, ever think I’ll let you go. Because I won’t.” I flip around to face him, straddling him now. I sink, until his cock is buried inside me. Lowering myself slowly, holding his gaze, holding onto that promise. I don’t know the rules of his world. I don’t know what this vow means long-term. But I know I need it. Need him.

He held my gaze for a long moment, as if searching for the right entry point into a conversation he'd spent years avoiding. Finally, he exhales shakily. “I made a vow?” I tensed. “A vow?” “Yes.” His fingers tightened slightly around mine. “To Don Francesco. To myself. To you.” My pulse quickened. “Alessandro… what vow?” He leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper, but strong—unshakably strong. “That I choose you,” he said. “Completely. Permanently. With no more distance, no more excuses, and no more letting others decide our lives for us.”

“I want to build something too. A future that’s not weighed down by pain.” He nodded. “Then let’s make a vow.” “A vow?” He turned to face me, eyes steady. “Right here. Right now. That we won’t let the past control our lives anymore. That we’ll forgive ourselves and each other. That we’ll move forward, not looking back.” My throat tightened. “Okay. I vow.” “To peace,” he said. “To peace,” I echoed. “To love.” “To love.” We sealed it with a kiss—soft, slow, and full of promises.

A soft murmur of approval rippled through the pack. “My second vow is one of protection,” he continued, his voice gaining a harder, fiercer edge. “I will be the shield that guards you from all harm. I will be the sword that strikes down any who wish you ill. My strength is yours, my life for yours, from this moment until my last breath.” His eyes, blazing with intensity, softened into something deeper, more intimate.