Page 90 of His Atonement

Font Size:

Page 90 of His Atonement

The Dragovihk kin and elders of the clan toward the front, and the rest of their families filling each seat behind.

There is an archway that Kai and I are standing under, one made of tree branches wrapped in ivy and fairy lights that glow brightly against the soon to be setting sun.

At my side are my dearest friends; the wolf, the vampire, and the eldest dragon dressed much like I am, the four of us waiting for the females that should be joining us any moment.

Behind the area designated for the ceremony is another set-up for the feast, one that was created by Kady and Mary, and the mates of the elders as well as the other females of the clan as tradition states. A dance floor is in the middle of the seating, a DJ booth set up and manned by Ronny, the young wolf, and Grace's karaoke machine on standby because that is inevitable.

The yard is lovely, absolutely perfect according to my mate’s specifications, and she will be thrilled with the finished product, which is the only reason I care about any of it at all.

"You ready?" Colt whispers just as my skin begins to prickle; just as the electricity surges through my body when my mate draws near.

I nod, adjust my cufflinks, and take a deep breath.

So many new and unusual experiences, but navigating all of them is worth it because they brought me here, they brought me to Frankie.

My eyes lift from my hands asLe carnaval des animauxby Saint-Saëns begins to filter through the speakers and I cannot help but smile at what I see.

Samson begins trotting down the isle alongside Daisy, the little girl beaming and dressed like a princess and behind that goofy dog, harnessed to his big body, is a little red wagon where Thor sits as though he is king shit, both animals dressed in little tuxes with bow ties.

I chuckle as Daisy prompts Sammy to stop, which he does so she can drop wildflowers every few paces, the pup following her commands flawlessly while Thor periodically squeals and snorts for him to continue. I had no idea they were to be included–the animals, that is–and I can only assume this was my darling mate’s idea. One that I approve of greatly.

When they reach the end, Daisy stops in front of me, looks up with a huge smile and says with the utmost sincerity, "My is so fucking happy you marrying my Kiki. She loves your grumpy ass lots."

The crowd erupts into laughter, myself included, so I crouch down and meet her bright green and blue eyes. "Thank you for your approval, my dear. It means a great deal to me because I love your Kikilotsas well and nothing makes me happier than marrying her."

Daisy's smile somehow grows and the little girl throws her arms around my neck and squeezes before she plants a kiss on my cheek. She leads Samson and Thor to the front row where she takes her place next to Henrich, he and Milos on baby duty with Opal and Lily.

I get vertical again just as Cora, my most precious gem, my dear sweet sister, begins waddling down the aisle, smiling brightly despite the tears rolling down her cheeks.

She takes her place next to me–my sister walking with the females but also acting as my best man because it simply made sense–and when she does, gods I laugh again.

"Just wait til you get a load of your woman,” Cora whispers as she squeezes my hand. "Frankie looks so fucking hot and I know for a fact she has a surprise for you under that gorgeous dress. You're barely gonna make it through the ceremony."

I simply shake my head with a grin, and try to block out thoughts of whatever my mate is hiding under her dress by focusing on Casey, Posey, then Grace as they all descend looking just as lovely as my sister.

When Allie starts toward us, a swarm of gigantic butterflies takes flight in my belly and the moment she stands at the altar and the song changes from Saint-Saëns to Bach'sCello Suite No. 1 in G Major, that's when the nerves hit.

Nerves that are immediately replaced by so many emotions; joy, extreme love, intense lust, and the purest happiness I've ever felt when my mate takes her first steps toward me.

Frankie, looking at her first thing in the morning, during the day, or just before bed, she is my ultimate high but right now, right this second she is the sweetest addiction in the most gorgeous physical form.

My darling mate is an absolute vision.

Blood red curls pulled back into a low, loose knot at the nape of her neck, a birdcage veil—something I learned while looking at countless bridal magazines—pinned over her left ear with an elaborate feathered jewel, little amethysts sparkling against her sunkissed skin around her neck and ears.

I've yet to see Frankie wearing makeup, something she does not need and never really uses, but holy shit, seeing her with it on now is something I didn't even know I'd find this captivating.

A subtle smokey eye that makes the kaleidoscope forest pop and glitter in the setting sun. Long lashes frame them perfectly as does the glow to her skin that is topped off by pin up girl red lipstick I cannot wait to have smudged all over my body.

And fuck me, the dress. Frankie's dress is the most glorious combination of sinner and saint I have ever seen.

A tea length dress—thank you, bridal mags—in a soft champagne color, the entire thing covered in Italian lace but the bodice, hot damn the bodice looks like a fucking corset tied up tight to emphasize her hourglass shape. It is strapless, adorned in beautifully disguised buckles and studs, and it pushes up her breasts in a way that makes me want to figure out how I can bury my face in them while simultaneously sliding my dick between them, the swells as close to spilling over the top as one can get without actually doing so, all while maintaining a very classy vibe.

My eyes wander the skirt, the one I will have pushed up to her waist in a few hours, the ruffles not too big, the lace giving it a very innocent look with the way it falls just shy of her knees, and when my gaze travels further I have to remind myself to keep my hands directly in front of my crotch becausefuck, fuck my mate is absolutely a she-devil.

Frankie is wearing stockings and heels.

Fucking spiked, at least six inch tall heels in a crimson color that matches her lips perfectly, a sheer ivory color stocking that appears to be microscopic fishnet, and knowing my mate, I’d put money on them having the seam up the back of her calf.