Ares presses his forehead to mine, his arms around me.
“My wife,” he breathes.
My smile splits wide across my face. “Say it again.”
“My wife,” he growls, louder this time. Possessive and proud. Like he’s claiming something the whole world better never try to take from him again.
Around us, the city sparkles. Love burns hot and wild in my chest.
Ares presses his lips to mine again, sealing our vows and silencing the world. Everything becomes golden. The city lights glitter beyond the windows, and the air in the room is heavy with joy and warmth. I hear the cheers from our friends and family, a chorus of clapping and hollering that echoes around us as we finally turn to face them as husband and wife.
My face aches from smiling, but I don’t stop.
Ares doesn’t let go of my hand as we walk down the short aisle together. Every step feels surreal. I’m Lana Hunt. I’mmarried. I married—for real—to the vampire who pretended to be my fiancé to save me.
“Come on, everyone,” I say as we head for the back of the room. “It’s time for some cake!”
And that’s exactly what we do. I don’t know how Ares pulled it off, but he tracked down someone who could make us a breathtaking caketoday. It’s four tiers high. It’s white with black and red and gold accents. The whole room cheers and gathersround as Ares and I slice a piece and enjoy every bit of the cliché as we stuff each other’s faces with the delicious sugar.
The caterer serves up slices of cake, and I relax just a little as the moment shifts a little more casual.
Before I can process any more, Clementine appears in front of me like a glittering ghost in a satin blazer. Her wife follows behind her, narrowing her eyes at Ares and me.
“Okay,” she drawls in that London accent, a glass of champagne already in hand, “this entire surprise wedding? Beyond iconic. How did you pull this off, considering everything else going on?”
I snort. “Well, we decided last night that we didn’t want to wait any longer. And here we are now!”
Florence narrows her eyes playfully. “I demand a time stamp.”
“This morning,” Ares says with a wry grin. “Seriously.”
The sound that escapes her is halfway between a gasp and a laugh. “Shut up.”
Juliet strides over, grinning, dragging Roman behind her. “Wait. Hold on. You’re telling me this was atodaydecision?”
I nod, laughing now as everyone else starts reacting.
Florence crosses her arms, expression flat—but the corners of her mouth betray her. “You planned all this and didn’t even call me? I should disown you both.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” I say as I wrap my arms around my real, true-blue sister-in-law. “But I hope you can find it in you to forgive me. I literally only tried on four dresses, so you didn’t miss out on much.”
“That magical piece of fabric was dress number four?” Clementine gapes in shock.
“Seriously, that dress was made for you, Lana,” Juliet compliments with a raised brow.
“I can’t believe you pulled this off,” Sysco chuckles as he strides over.
Ares slips his arm around my waist and kisses my temple. “I had to pull some strings.”
“That’s one hell of a string,” Sysco says, nearly sloshing his champagne over the rim of his glass. “I knew something was going on today. I mean, you were literally dead yesterday, Ares. We killed five men. And then radio silence today? It was giving ‘either we’re about to commit a felony or a wedding.’”
Harry joins the group and raises his glass in our direction. “Didn’t think you could surprise me after all the shit you pulled off without me yesterday. I stand corrected.”
The music shifts. The strings ease into something low and romantic. I feel it like a tug in my chest.
Ares holds his hand out to me, eyes glittering beneath the chandeliers. “Dance with me, wife.”
Wife. Damn, that word feels dangerous and warm and perfect.
