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It’s hard not to pull her closer—obscenely closer—when we exchange wedding bands, let alone hold back on my urge to consummate this marriage tonight.

But I won’t ruin her.

I have to ease my new bride into this, just like I’m easing into this new ring on my finger. A strange new weight and a promise when I’ve never worn anything besides my family’s black dagger ring.

I’m not absolutely fucking crazy.

I’m not.

Inky appears alongside me, blotting his beady black eyes with a tissue. Of course, he’s dressed up for the ceremony, wearing a literal penguin suit over his feathers.

He even has a polka-dotted red bow tie as he blubbers like a baby.

Oh, Lala. I dreamed this day would come.

Be good to her. Don’t you dare get her killed like Mama.

I clench my jaw.

Fuck this, fuck him, and fuck me.

I’m not letting a sick hallucination ruin this moment.

My soon-to-be wife already believes I’m a violent lunatic. I have every reason to prove her wrong.

“You may kiss the bride,” Father Malachai says with a polite grin.

For now, my lust will be satisfied with those magic words.

I lean in for a kiss, but she turns her cheek toward me.

Denied! Inky says with a laugh. Good luck getting this fish to warm up, you crazy little boy.

9

MI CASA, SU CRAZY (SYLVIE)

Alife in the dark.

He’s pulled me into it, made me his prisoner in a permanent night, and I should be paralyzed. Yet there’s only one thought that keeps crowding my mind.

I’ve never been kissed like this before.

Heck, I’ve only been kissed by two men before him, and those experiences weren’t remotely comparable.

Get a grip, it’s barely a kiss at all.

A peck on the cheek.

Basically a kiss Nonno would give you!

But it’s nothing like Nonno.

That forest-y aftershave, the soft brush of his beard, his soft, hungry lips against my skin that say the vilest things.

For a hot second, I forget I’ve agreed to marry Satan.

And I actually turn my face.