Page 5

The words sting, but I doubt that’s her intention, so I don’t let it show as she disappears into the hallway. Instead, I step closer to the railing to get a better look at the other witches in attendance. Most of the balconies are full—five floors worth of men and women all packed shoulder to shoulder, jewelry and outfits gleaming not unlike my own. Squinting, I can see two of my three sisters across from me and one floor down, their blonde hair styled to match Mom’s. Again, I’m the odd one out, having inherited Dad’s brown locks.

My eldest sister, Allison, the one Daemon transformed into, throws back her head and laughs at something my other sister, Rebecca, says. It’s always inside jokes with those two. Neither of them notice me, but then again, neither of them have ever cared enough to notice me either.

I’m still staring at them when someone taps me on the shoulder. “Do you mind if I join you? The other balconies are full.” The voice is rich and deep, and sends goosebumps prickling my spine.

“Of course not. I—”

Sounds fade to nothing.

The witches vanish.

As I turn around, our gazes meet. And then it happens. One look into his olive green irises and a thousand vises cinch around my chest, strangling me, stealing the breath from my lungs.

“Oh.”

We say the word at the same time. And his face must be a mirror image of my own. Mouth open, eyes sparkling, surprise etched onto every feature.

Mate.

3

BAPTISM

My mate and I stare at each other for what must be an uncomfortably long time, and yet it isn’t. I feel like I could stare at him forever, and it still wouldn’t be long enough. The man is attractive—not like Daemon, but in a boy-next-door kind of way. Tousled blond hair. Broad shoulders. A square jaw. He stands only an inch taller than me, but height has never been a deal-breaker.

I can’t help but smile when I see the pastel pink pocket square sticking from his white suit jacket, because it matches my outfit. I’d think the angels manipulated it if not for Daemon’s involvement at the dress shop. Of their own accord, my fingers trace the silk fabric, letting go of the iron-clad grip on my tattooed wrist to do so.

It’s unlike me to make the first move—to make any moves, really—and yet it feels as natural and as easy as breathing air.

Mate.

I lean forward at the same time as him, our mouths colliding. On instinct, I part my lips for him, taste the sweet wine on his breath as his fingers twine through my updo and deepen the kiss. Heat rushes through my body when he backs me against the cold stone railing and groans into me.

Mate.

Breathless, I twist his soft hair in my fingers and wrap my arms around his neck, totally oblivious to anything and everything else. And then he pulls away before I’ve even had time to enjoy it—him.

Wait, why is he pulling away?

Disappointment leeches into every fiber of my being. My brows furrow as I stare at him. “I don’t—”

A thousand hushed conversations echo throughout the rotunda.

A thousand witches hover in our periphery, only half-hidden in the dim light.

“I’m sorry,” he says, clearing his throat. “I got carried away.”

He’s apologizing? For kissing me? The rejection stings, even though I should feel relieved that he doesn’t want to make a spectacle with me. Still, I can’t help but wonder if that’s because he’s anti-PDA, or because he’s recognized me and is embarrassed that I’m his mate.

“I’m Christopher,” he adds, and then he offers up his hand like his tongue wasn’t shoved down my throat ten seconds ago.

Head muddled, I blink a few times and readjust my hemline before taking it. My tattoo practically glows in the darkness, and I pray to God he doesn’t realize what it means. The last thing I need is a conversation about him right now. “I’m Annalise, but everyone calls me Ann.”

Except for Daemon, who calls me Annie.

His eyes dart straight to the tattoo because of course they do, and my cheeks flame with embarrassment. “You're Sarah Etten’s daughter. The one with the incubus familiar.”

Christ. He didn’t recognize me before, but he does now. Still struggling to catch my breath, I scratch the back of my head and look anywhere but at him. “Yup. That’s me.”