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“Shall I begin the proceedings?” Garren asked, his tongue flicking out towards Ophelia as though he would have a taste of her terror for himself. My hand shot out before he could move back, gripping Garren’s chin and slamming it up so both rows of fanged teeth pierced that lecherous tongue which had no business being near my bride.
“Come along, little wife,” I purred, wrapping my claws around her slim arm and guiding her towards the aisle. “You smell like a meal, and it’s time for the feast.”
“Those pretty trembles belong to me.”
“You can’t give my wife gifts. I haven’t even given her gifts.”
It’s not my fault you’re a terrible husband,”
It wasn’t an era. I was the king, I had to be suspicious.
“Then why did she leave?” By the goddesses, this was the most uncomfortable conversation I’d ever had in my life. “Because I didn’t tell your sister that she was the first woman I loved, the only woman I’d ever love, and I’ll die with the regret of not making my feelings for her clear when I had the chance.”
I’d fuck my husband every second of every day rather than put a single one of them at risk.
