Capítulo 4: 04
Richard and I stop at the end of the carpet. I'm shaking as much as he is, but Richard never loses his composure. Ever the born-and-bred gentleman he was raised to be, he smiles at me, kisses my cheek and steps back to take his seat with the rest of the crowd.
I'm alone for a heartbeat as I take the final steps to my side of the pulpit. I can barely breathe, and I'm shaking so hard I could almost be considered epileptic. Still, I stand my ground, remembering that I'm doing this to protect what's left of my family from being dragged into this deal as well.
The priest starts the ceremony, talking about the dearly beloved and how happy of an occasion this is. Happy my ass. If he were in my position, he'd be halfway to Cuba by now.
I stare at my bouquet of rotten flowers, watching as the delicate, lifeless petals rustle and shake as I adjust my grip. A few of them break off, floating down onto the marble floor. My heart skips a beat watching them fall, my thoughts turning to how my family has fallen from upstanding citizens to wheelers and dealers with the Devil.
The priest asks if anyone opposes our union. The room is deathly silent. No one dares to say yes. Damn it.
Icy fingers reach out and cup my chin, startling me out of my trance. Gently, they tilt my head upwards so I can look my husband-to-be in the eye. Of course there has to be some semblance of torture here. Lucifer can't have his bride avoiding him during our wedding. I relent and let him raise my head, figuring it's better than fighting him in front of our audience. I take a breath and flick my eyes up to meet his.
My breath catches in my throat. My God, he's beautiful. Lucifer stands just feet away from me, his glory and absolute beauty nearly overwhelming me. I can see how he was picked as the best and most beautiful angel. He's flawless.
Bright golden eyes meet my own, shining in the warm sunlight filtering into the church. They're gorgeous, almost hypnotic. I fight the urge to get lost in those gorgeous eyes. If I do, I'll never come out.
The rest of him is just as striking. Fawn-brown hair lies perfectly across his head, just long enough for the strands to brush against the tips of his ears. His face is expertly chiseled, the angles of his face so sharp and straight I'm afraid I'll bleed if I touch him. His lips are full and soft, his nose straight as an arrow and his jaw strong. His cheekbones could cut glass.
His body is as mystifying as his face. His flesh has been loved by the sun just enough to tan him to perfection. The muscles of his chest and stomach are carved without being absurd. Strong biceps and slender shoulders compliment each other perfectly. He's wearing soft, ripped jeans and nothing else. Even his feet are bare. A pair of enormous jet black wings are folded against his back, the feathered tips splayed out on the marble floor. They gleam in the sunlight, tiny flecks of indigo and ruby shimmering along the surface of the feathers.
He's beyond perfect, and I suddenly feel incredibly insignificant.
His succulent lips turn up in a warm smile, and I have to take a deep breath to make sure I don't faint. He's absolutely gorgeous, yet undeniably sinister. That's a deadly combination if I've ever seen one.
He nods, and says 'I do." I briefly wonder why he'd say such a strange, random thing. Then I remember why I'm here and my stomach does a double back flip. We're at the part of the wedding where we agree to our marriage. I've been staring at him for so long I've missed the entire opening ceremony.
"Miss Harlowe?" The priests' soft voice breaks me out of his hypnotic gaze.
I shake my head and turn to him. "Yes?"
He cocks an impossibly bushy eyebrow at me. "Do you take Lucifer to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
I contemplate saying no, then dismiss the idea. That would just get me in trouble, perhaps even getting my family killed. I sigh to myself and nod, forcing a smile.
"I do."
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