The Deceptive Union
The ceremonial chamber was cloaked in golden firelight, the flickering flames casting shadows that danced along the stone walls. Seraphine stood near the hearth, her hands clasped tightly in front of her to steady her trembling fingers. She had prepared for this moment, rehearsed it in her mind countless times, but now that it was here, the weight of what she was about to do pressed heavily on her chest.
The sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway, sharp and deliberate. When the door opened, Draven stepped inside, his presence filling the room like a tide. His dark eyes locked onto hers immediately, and though his expression was calm, there was an intensity in his gaze that made Seraphine’s breath hitch. She tilted her head slightly, mimicking Isla’s soft, hesitant demeanor.
“You’re late,” she said, her voice quiet but steady. The practiced cadence of Isla’s tone felt almost second nature now.
Draven’s lips curved into a faint smile. “The council was insistent on their final blessings,” he replied, his voice low and even. He stepped closer, his gaze sweeping over her, lingering just long enough to make her skin prickle. “You look… radiant.”
Seraphine’s stomach twisted, but she forced herself to blush faintly, lowering her eyes. “Thank you.”
Draven reached out, his fingers brushing hers as he took her hand. His touch was warm, grounding, and the connection sent a strange jolt through her. She had anticipated this moment, but nothing had prepared her for the reality of standing here with him, pretending to be someone she wasn’t.
“Shall we begin?” he asked, his tone soft but filled with certainty.
Seraphine nodded, her throat dry as she allowed him to lead her to the hearth. They knelt together on the plush rug, the warmth of the fire washing over them as they began the ancient vows. Each word spoken was heavy with meaning, a sacred bond being forged before the Moon Goddess. Seraphine recited her lines flawlessly, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging within her.
When the final vow was spoken, Draven turned to her fully, his dark eyes searching hers. There was no suspicion in his gaze, only trust and a quiet intensity that made her chest tighten. “You’re mine now,” he said, his voice low and possessive.
“And you’re mine,” she replied, her words carrying the softness she knew Isla would have used.
Draven leaned in, and his lips met hers, soft at first but growing more insistent with each passing second. Seraphine’s pulse raced, her body reacting instinctively as his hands slid to her waist, pulling her closer. His kiss was commanding, filled with a passion that left no room for doubt or hesitation.
Seraphine’s hands rested against his chest, feeling the solid strength of him beneath her fingers. For a moment, she let herself sink into the moment, the heat of his touch driving away the lingering whispers of guilt. She had wanted this, craved it, and now it was hers.
Draven broke the kiss, his forehead resting against hers as his breath mingled with hers. “You’re shaking,” he murmured, his voice low and husky.
“Nerves,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
He cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. “You don’t need to be nervous. This is just us now.”
The sincerity in his tone sent a pang through her chest, but she forced herself to smile. “I know.”
Draven stood, lifting her effortlessly into his arms. Seraphine let out a soft gasp, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he carried her to the large bed draped in crimson and gold. He set her down gently, his movements deliberate as he knelt before her, his hands trailing up her arms to her shoulders.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine.
Seraphine’s breath hitched as his fingers found the ties of her gown, loosening them with practiced ease. The fabric slipped from her shoulders, pooling around her waist and leaving her bare under the soft glow of the firelight. She resisted the urge to cover herself, instead meeting his gaze with what she hoped was a mixture of vulnerability and desire.
Draven’s eyes darkened as he leaned in, his lips trailing along her neck, his hands exploring the curves of her body with a reverence that left her trembling. His touch was possessive yet careful, as though he were claiming her piece by piece. Seraphine closed her eyes, letting herself be swept up in the sensations, her mind momentarily silencing the guilt that threatened to resurface.
Draven guided her back onto the bed, his weight pressing against her as he kissed her deeply. The heat between them grew, an unspoken rhythm building as their bodies moved together. His hands slid down her sides, his touch igniting a fire that spread through her veins. Seraphine arched beneath him, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders.
