Wedding music filled the air. It was a light, pleasant instrumental number—a traditional wedding march that werewolves had used in our family for centuries. Every note felt like having another rock piled onto my chest. It sounded so much more like a funeral processional to me.
After getting dressed at the house in this itchy, lacy monstrosity and being walked down to the clearing by Dad, I was now alone in the bridal tent, waiting for my cue. The bustle of hairdressers, makeup artists, and florists was all gone. The moment was serene in comparison to everything that had been happening around me all morning. For the past three days, really. But I couldn’t relax, knowing that Dad would arrive at any moment to walk me down the aisle, where Thill would be binding me in unholy matrimony to one of the undead.
And Charlie was … well, no one really knew what Charlie was. Not dead but not alive either. My mind flashed back to that awful moment at the party and my stomach knotted. Bitterroot was lethal—the fact that someone had brought it into a den of wolves was bad enough. But when Owen had shown me that grove of it in the woods … And Valentino had admitted he’d known of it since last year when he’d discovered my mother there. This conspiracy went back a year. And still, none of us knew who was responsible.
When we did, someone was going to pay.
The problem was who.
And Dad seemed even less inclined to fill me in now than he had with Mom’s murder investigation. He’d told me the same thing Sheridan had after the party that night. Everything they’d done had been to draw out the killer. He’d admitted to believing it was someone from our side, but beyond that, I couldn’t get a straight answer out of any of them. All that was left was to marry Owen. I needed access to both camps. And I needed authority. Finding the guilty party was clearly up to me, though I had my suspicions.
Leaning out the back of my tent, I studied the gathering crowd: werewolves on one side, vampires on the other. The ceremony was meant to unite our people, bind us together as family and allies, but the audience had still segregated itself.
I could see the sleek black forms of the Rossis sitting up front, on Owen’s side. Soon, I would have to stare into his cold face and walk toward him, bouquet and all, for the sake of the pack. The thought of it sickened me. I wasn’t sure which part was worse—that I would be marrying a vampire, or marrying the guy my sister thought she was in love with.
The sound of someone entering my tent from the flap behind me made my heart gutter to a stop in my chest. Time to go.
“Regan.”
Ducking back into the tent, the world spun around me when I saw Carter standing in front of me in his tuxedo. He was one of the ushers helping to seat people, so he was in full formal wear: a black jacket, vest, and slacks. He looked incredible.
I wanted to tell him so. I wanted to tell him a thousand different things, but none of them mattered nor should they be said. Not when I was about to marry the vampire prince. I choked back a cry and fisted my hands, opting for anger instead of anguish.
“What are you doing here?” I hissed.
He stared, his eyes roaming up and down the length of me. He looked awed. “Regan, that dress …. You look beautiful.”
I ignored his words, but not without a pang through my gut. I didn’t want to be beautiful. Not for this. For once, I wanted to be the plain one, to let Charlie and her soft beauty have the spotlight. For a split second, I wanted her to have this, the wedding, the ceremony, the chance to be with the guy she loved. But that was the sister in me. The alpha, the werewolf pack leader, knew it had to be me.
“Regan, are you okay?”
I shook free of my thoughts. It was better not to think at a time like this. “My dad will be here any minute, Carter. You can’t be here.”
Carter’s expression softened and he stepped closer. “Regan, for one second, let’s stop being all about the rules. Stop pushing me away.”
“What’s the point of that, Carter? In less than an hour, I’m going to be Mrs. Vampire Princess. I will always be pretending, always acting, always pushing for the rest of my life.”
“All the more reason to be real with me, one last time, just for a minute.” He took another step. And another. He didn’t stop until his chest almost brushed my own. When he looked down at me, the sadness in his eyes broke my heart.
“Carter, I…” I looked up and met his eyes. I could smell him now. It was rich and earthy and filled my head, pushing out whatever decision I’d made to stay strong. My fists loosened. I could feel my resolve slipping. “If I stop pretending with you, I’ll never want to start again,” I whispered.
He didn’t respond. There was nothing to say. He knew it. I knew it. This had to be done. My father had promised it in his own blood. To go back on it would mean war. Death. The first being my father. I couldn’t walk away from responsibility. I was an alpha. And I didn’t need to say all that to Carter. He knew it, which was one of the things I loved about him.
A sob rose, half escaping before I clamped my jaw shut against the sound. Love? That’s why this was so hard?
“Regan?” Carter’s hands came up, cupping my shoulders. His brows knitted in concern. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’ll be right beside you the whole time. Valentino, your dad, all of us are watching. No one’s going to hurt you.”
I shook my head, desperate. For what, I didn’t know. Maybe for the truth, for just a moment, like he’d said. “I’m not afraid of that, Carter. I’m afraid of you,” I said.
“Me? Why? I would never hurt you.”
“You already have.” Tears brimmed, lining my lids. I held them back. If they fell, my makeup would run and they would all know what torture this was for me.
“How have I—?”
“Because, Carter. I love you.”
The words were out. There was no taking them back, and surprisingly, I didn’t want to. If I lived a hundred years as the vampire princess, I would at least have this moment.
To my surprise, Carter’s eyes filled and he bit down on his lip. Carter, the boy who never cried, never backed down, never admitted weakness. At the sight of it, something inside my chest cracked and broke into tiny pieces. I reached up and wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close. His arms came around me, holding tight, and he buried his face against my hair. “I love you, too, Regan. Always have. Always will.”
A throat cleared. Carter and I broke apart. I shivered as I faced my father, waiting for the accusatory glare that was sure to come after what he’d just witnessed. But his face remained carefully blank. “It’s time,” he said simply.
I nodded. Carter turned, slipping his hand into mine and squeezing as he pressed his lips to my cheek. “Always will,” he whispered. Then he turned and strode out.
I approached my father carefully, bracing myself for the lecture, the berating reminder of responsibility and carrying oneself like a leader. If he did any of that, tears were imminent. I couldn’t hold them back, not after what Carter had said.
I paused in front of my father. “Dad…”
“Sshh.” He placed his hands on my shoulders and looked me square in the eye. When he spoke, his voice was rough, not at all smooth and sure like normal. “You’ve become a leader. I am so very, very proud of you, Regan. Your mother would feel the same if she were here.”
At his praise, a single tear escaped, trailing down my cheek. He caught it and wiped it away. “None of that,” he said. “Let’s go make you alpha.”
He took my arm, looping it through his, and patted my hand once. I barely had time to nod before we were passing through the doors of the tent and into the warming sunshine that would serve as the backdrop to the worst day of my life.
I was only vaguely aware of the looks of sympathy I received as I passed down the center aisle. Mostly, I concentrated on trying to ignore the cold, paleness of my groom waiting at the dais up ahead. As soon as I caught sight of his hard jaw, carefully styled hair, dark eyes—made darker from the crisp, black tux he wore—I looked away. I hated that he looked just as pained as I felt.
There were other faces, waiting expectantly for me to complete my entrance. Thill, gnarled and wobbly where he crouched and leaned on his cane. He was technically presiding over the ceremony, but not without help. Al stood next to Thill, hulking and towering in the small, framed space. He was trying to be subtle in the way he braced Thill but there was nothing subtle about Al, including the sad way he smiled at me when our eyes met.
On Thill’s other side stood Mr. Rossi. My dad would join him in a moment, the two leaders bearing witness to the union and alliance being born here. Owen stood alone, apparently opting out of anyone beside him for support. On my side of the dais stood Bevin, her lips pressed together in a thin line.
My dad’s arm tightened around mine as I took the final steps and stopped in the empty space beside Owen. Thill shook a little as he tried to straighten but then seemed to realize his back wasn’t going to take any shape other than hunched.
Thill’s voice shook as he began. “We gather together for a binding of matrimony that joins two people in an alliance that will forever grant something between our houses we have always lacked. Peace.” The words came slowly. Not that I wanted this over with quickly, but it felt particularly torturous drawing out the sealing of my fate.
A fate that had led me to a sister only to lose her again. A fate that had broken my family. I only hoped I could return the favor when the time came.