No, little witch, he finally says. I hear his ominous laugh. You won’t be marrying anyone besides me. His voice is confident and uncompromising. I am coming for you. I will leave tomorrow at first light, and I will get there before a wedding takes place. And when I do, he continues, I will make graves of these grooms and anyone else who comes between us. Violent delight threads his words. You’re mine.
