Page 120 of Hunt Me

His breath caught from the sight of her. The throne room seemed to extend with every step she took—cruelly keeping her miles away and simultaneously just out of reach. The only thing that ruined the vision before him was Duke Gustafson escorting her with an arm looping through hers. It took every ounce of self-control not to gracefully tear off the duke’s appendage.

Matilda admired her beloved as she made her way to him. He waited before the dais—tall and still as a statue carved from a dragon’s tooth.

He wore a tunic of deep black velvet, cut to fit his broad shoulders, with a sable fur draped over one side. The front of his tunic bore ornate gold clasps, and his trousers were black leather. A crimson silk sash wrapped around his waist, matching her gown. Upon his head rested a crown of blackened steel inlaid with garnets, each stone catching the firelight like droplets of blood.

Briefly, Matilda’s eyes tracked to her crown nestled on a ruby red velvet pillow in Duke Mirren’s hands.

Finally, she arrived, dropping Duke Gustafson’s arm. He shifted towards his son, beaming at the opportunity to witness history in the making.

Luka reached out and tucked a wayward curl behind her ear.

“What held you?”

“A visit to the galley,” she responded honestly.

Silently, he wiped a bread crumb from the corner of her mouth.

“I am convinced you’re comprised of blood and bread.”

“I’d rather be comprised of blood and bread than blood and bullshit like you,” she said with a teasing smirk.

The dukes’ laughter bounced off the stone walls and velvet tapestries.

“It is not too late to change your mind,” Duke Brennan commented.

Luka smiled and said, “She was born slightly touched.”

“Slightly touched?” Matilda squawked. “If I am slightly touched, then you were punched!”

The laughter increased.

“You win,” he said, finally surrendering.

“Shall we begin?” Ezra asked.

“Please.”

“Please join hands.”

Matilda held back a shiver when Luka’s cool fingers curled around her warm ones. Ezra resumed, placing a length of braided crimson and gold cord across their joined hands.

“In the presence of those here gathered, we bind two souls—one immortal and one mortal—in blood and eternal vows. Do you, King Luka Alesi, vow to guard her life as you guard your own, and in doing so, guard the life she now carries?”

“I vow it,” Luka answered, voice low but solid as he stared into her eyes.

“And do you, Matilda Helsing, vow to walk at his side in darkness and in light, to be his heart in the absence of beat?”

“I vow it,” she whispered, gaze locked on the man she loved more than mortal life itself.

Ezra drew a silver dagger from a sheath. Matilda winced when a shallow cut was made on her palm as on Luka’s.

“Please join hands.”

Their blood mingled as their hands pressed together in love and commitment.

“Then by blood and by bond, you are one.”

Luka lowered his head, pressing a kiss to Matilda’s lips. It was slow, claiming, and full of promise.