Chapter 426 – Under the Moon

Cora

After dressing, I surprised myself by feeling shy as I reached for the bathroom door to return to the tiny bedroom where Roger awaited me.

It was no secret why we were here. Roger wasn't stupid; he probably figured out what I was doing when I went into the bathroom with a large white box.

But still—it was always something, wasn't it? Anticipating how the man you love would see you in your wedding dress for the first time. And as I thought about it, I suddenly couldn't wait.

I opened the bathroom door and stepped back into the bedroom, my eyes immediately finding Roger. He stood by the open doors leading to the beach, the ocean breeze gently lifting his hair.

And, as I knew they would be, his eyes were already on me. He had been waiting. My face broke into a grin as his expression softened.

I felt it all through our bond—his awe, pride, love, desire, and the overwhelming pleasure he derived from seeing how beautiful he thought I looked that night, in that dress.

"Cora," he said, the sound rough as it escaped his tight throat. It was the only word he could manage, lifting a hand to cover his mouth and shaking his head, simply staring.

I turned to face him completely, still smiling so hard my face might ache. "So, you like it?" I asked, twisting slightly so he could see more of the dress, how the beadwork caught the firelight, making it incandescent in the dim bedroom.

He stared for a moment before a low growl rumbled in his chest—his only answer. I burst out laughing and crossed the room to him, holding out my hands.

Roger took my hands as I approached the bed, pulling me closer. He slid his hands over my body, feeling the intricate details of the dress and the contrast it offered against my bare skin. He lowered his face to mine, kissing me softly as he traced his fingertips down my spine, sending shivers through me.

Then, slowly, he pulled away and took a step back. "I don't know what I want. Do I want you close, so I can keep my hands on you? Or far away, so I can admire how beautiful you look? God, Cora—this dress was made for you—"

I wrinkled my nose and smiled up at him, deeply pleased. "I'm glad you like it," I murmured, wrapping my arms around his waist. "I liked it too. Ella made me try on about a thousand. But this was my favorite."

"Well, it's perfect," he sighed. "It's just a shame I'll have to rip it to shreds when I tear it off your body in about thirty seconds…"

I gasped and pulled away, defensively clutching the dress to my chest. "Roger! Don't you dare!"

"I don't know, Cora," he murmured, shaking his head and closing the distance between us, his hunger evident. "I don't know if I can help myself. How did you even get this thing on? I'll never have the patience for a thousand tiny pearl buttons—"

"There's a zipper," I said, swatting at him. "And you will respect the dress! It's precious to me! I—" I hesitated, blushing, on the verge of saying something sentimental.

"What?" Roger said, his mouth curving as he sensed it. "Tell me."

"No," I said, laughing and looking down, shaking my head.

"Cora," he said, his voice both warning and commanding. While those usually didn't affect me—I had no intention of letting Roger boss us around like Ella and Sinclair—his gentle fingers under my chin, lifting my face, were more persuasive. "Please. I want to know."

"Well," I said softly, staring up at my gorgeous mate, "I never had a mother with a wedding dress to pass down. And if we ever have a daughter…"

A tiny, strangled groan escaped his throat—not of frustration or annoyance, but simply because he couldn't help it; he, too, was moved by the sweetness of the idea.

A daughter, one day, getting married, in a dress like this. And suddenly, looking up at him, I knew we were both thinking the same thing: we had so much life and joy ahead, and neither of us could wait a second longer to begin.

Roger cupped my face in his hands and kissed me—slowly, sweetly, but with the full force of his commitment to me, to us, and to our future. It swept through me, and I pressed myself close, my hands wrapped in his shirt, pulling him nearer.

Roger began to move backward, slowly guiding me to the bed, but realizing his intentions, I pulled away, glancing toward the doors.

"No?" he asked, a little confused. "Um," I said, realizing a conviction I hadn't known I possessed until that moment. Then I looked back into his eyes. "I think we should do this outside."

"What?" he asked, confused. "Cora, there's nothing that says—"

"No," I said, shaking my head, utterly convinced. "Please—I…I'm sure of it."

He chuckled, not entirely understanding but not minding much. He shrugged, turned to the bed, yanked off the duvet, and rolled it into a ball. He handed it to me. Confused, I took it, but as soon as I did, Roger dipped down, wrapping one arm around my back and scooping me up under my knees, lifting me into his arms in one swift motion.

I laughed, enjoying every minute, and nodded toward the beach, the sea, and the sky—knowing, for some reason, we had to do this there.

"All right, little demigoddess," Roger murmured, his lips close to my ear. "Under your mother's moonlight, as you wish it." And then he carried me out onto the sand, which, as he said, was well-lit by the full moon.

"Oh," I said, looking up at the sky. "Do you think that's it? Because something is…calling me, if that's the right way to put it. Not even a pull, just an instinct."

"I think mating ceremonies often took place under the moon in years past," he said, stopping when we were surrounded by sand, much closer to the sea than the little house, which shone like a happy beacon in the distance. "But, considering who your mother is…I think maybe she wants to see this."

I smiled at him as he set me down, my toes singing as they touched the sand. I loved the beach—always had. "Well, that's very romantic," I said, looking up at the moon. "Plus, we need a witness."

"Nah," Roger said, shaking his head and taking the blanket from my hands, shaking it out and spreading it on the sand. "Mating ceremonies don't need witnesses, unless you want them. They speak for themselves. Once you have my mark, it's…just known, I guess."

A shiver ran through me at the thought, my wolf panting eagerly in anticipation. She had wanted this for a long time, and I knew she was frustrated by my delay.

But I was right. This moment was so perfect; I wouldn't have wanted his mark in any other place, at any other time, in any other way.

Roger held out a hand, and I smiled and took it. We stepped onto the blanket, moving to the center.

Then, to my surprise, Roger knelt. I didn't ask questions but followed suit, turning to face him, our hands loosely clasped between us, our knees touching.

I smiled up at my mate, who looked incredibly gorgeous in the moonlight, the night air blowing between us. He smiled back, shaking his head in wonder. Then he squared his shoulders, his face turning serious.

"I take you, Cora," he said, his voice low and soft. "As my love and my mate, for the rest of our lives and whatever comes next. I promise you the protection of my body and the warmth of my spirit. I will hold you close on dark nights and bright days. I love you, quite simply, forever. I am yours and you are mine."

Something warm and golden burned within me, wrapping around the bond already existing between us—his promise, made true, strengthening it. Roger smiled gently. "Your turn," he whispered.