Page 119 of Hunt Me

“I have one request, Luka,” Matilda said breathily. She moaned when he squeezed the back of her neck.

“I love it when you say my name.”

“I have one request, Luka,” she repeated.

“I have a compulsion to fulfill your request.”

“Once our union is blessed, we shall return to our quarters immediately to celebrate.”

“No.”

“No?” she said in disbelief.

“I shall kick our esteemed guests out of the throne room and have my fill of you there.”

Matilda licked her lips at the thought of being bent over her husband’s throne.

She cleared her throat.

“I-I have another request.”

“Of course, you do.”

“We leave our crowns on.”

“Whatever my wife desires.”

***

“You are buzzing with excitement,” Ezra commented to Luka, who fidgeted before him while they waited for Matilda’s anticipated arrival.

“It seems you are unable to differentiate between excitement and annoyance. She was fully dressed when I left her. Why must she dawdle on one of the most important nights of her life?” he groused.

Ezra shrugged. “Perhaps she doesn’t consider tonight the most important night of her life.”

“Impossible,” Luka huffed.

Ezra watched as the king’s shoulders rolled back and his Adam’s apple repeatedly bobbed.

“What aren’t you saying, my King?”

“I never imagined I’d be here again.”

“Do you feel guilt?”

Luka shook his head and clasped his wrist in front of him.

“Nay, and that is what troubles me. There is no guilt, sadness, or yearning for Anastasia. It is as if she never existed. It is only Matilda.”

“Just as the gods will it. May favor bless your union and Matilda’s journey from the afterlife.”

Luka acknowledged his advisor with a nod. His throat tightened with emotion as he thought of what he had to do. He had to kill his beloved—his everything—and leave the rest to chance.

The doors to the throne room creaked open, capturing everyone’s attention.

Tears pricked Luka’s eyes as soon as they landed on his beloved.

She stood at the end of the aisle, wrapped in a gown of blood red silk. The dress fitted with tiny garnet beads clung to her motherly figure before giving way at the empire waist to a sweeping skirt that pooled around her feet. The fabric caught the torchlights, turning each fold into a ripple of fire. Long, fitted sleeves opened at the elbow into trailing panels that whispered against the floor when she moved. Her curly hair haloed around her shoulders in lustrous curls that smelled like lavender and honey. Her lips were pouty and stained red, and the ruby around her neck was as blinding as the sun.