The Mating Destiny: Werewolves of Montana Book 7 (25 page)

“Our original ruling was for the queen and I to retire and for you to leave Clan Drakon to rule over Clan Ciamoth with my daughter once you were married. Then after two years, the two clans would be united and you would rule over both.

“My daughter has informed me she does not wish to marry you. She has come up with an alternative for both our clans.” Horace sighed. “I have been quite remiss with her in not allowing her to publicly display her stunning intelligence. That too, will change.”

His father nodded. “Sabrina is a very wise young lady. Her suggestion is to unite both clans, not by marriage, but through an advisory council to provide guidance to both.”

“A formality,” King Horace hastened to add. “We shall still maintain our own castles and kingdoms, with each having a king and queen, but the advisory council comprised of members from each clan, both highborn and half-bloods, will have the power to invoke new laws, which each King will approve. And you, Prince Alexander, will rule over Clan Drakon as Prince Regent, with Emma as your princess. My daughter will become Princess Regent, and I will step aside.”

“King Horace and I will remain monarchs, but this will allow us to step back and give you both guidance as needed. With the advisory council, change can come to both our clans, the change we need to grow,” his father added.

George placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Your mother and I love you, son. And we realized how deeply you love Emma. If she is your soul mate, that is a bond nothing can break and you should not be punished for taking her as your forever mate, simply because of archaic rules and traditions. Traditions we still embrace, and ones that will be difficult to break, even for the right reasons.”

The king looked at Emma and his gaze was filled with kindness. “It took you, Emma, for this stubborn old man to realize to affect change, one starts with the greatest change of all—from within. Thank you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Alex said, and his voice remained steady.

The King hugged Alex, and then turned and hugged her. King Horace shook both their hands.

“I expect there’ll be a wedding soon.” Horace rubbed his bearded chin. “My daughter loves weddings. She’ll hope you’ll invite her, Emma. She is quite fond of you.”

“Of course.” Emma could barely breathe for all the whirlwind of changes that happened in five minutes.

“Our palace would make an excellent reception hall,” Horace told them.

“Clan Drakon has a larger hall,” Alex’s father countered.

“But our gardens have the sweetest roses,” Horace protested.

As the two kings walked off, arguing about roses, she turned to Alex. “I feel like all this is a dream and I’ll wake up.”

Alex drew her into his arms. “Maybe it is a dream.” He bent down to kiss her, his mouth warm and firm against hers.

But as long as we wake up next to each other, it will be all right.

Chapter 14

The wedding was splendid, the reception even more so.

Half of both kingdoms were present in the formal hall in Castle Drakon. Banners of silver, gold and crimson hung from the vast overhead ceiling, accenting the crystal chandeliers and the ancient wall tapestries. At each round table, a silver and gold tablecloth was covered with silver china and gold cutlery, and sprigs of red roses and white freesia in crystal vases adorned the center.

Four silver sentry dragons, the size of her old Toyota, circled overhead doing acrobatic dips and weaves. Guests craned their necks and ooohed and ahhed.

Then the dragons flew downwards and landed on either side of the head table, sitting at full attention. Alex informed her earlier that they would neither dine with the guests nor drink, for their part in the festivities was to stand guard at the bridal table.

So much pomp and circumstance, but the guests seemed to enjoy themselves, dancing to the 10-piece orchestra, eating the prime rib and vegetable dinner or partaking in the flowing champagne gushing from a silver fountain near the bar.

Even the wizards of the Brethon honored them with their presence. All but Xavier.

“He’s…otherwise occupied. But we offer his regards,” Drust had told them upon his arrival.

The wizards sat together near the head table, and the dragons, Fae, and Lupines and other shifters all avoided them. The Silver Wizard, Tristan, clad in black velvet with black leggings and silver boots, sat with his lovely wife Nikita. Nikita wore a silver and lavender gown and elegant lilac pumps. Gideon, the Crimson Wizard, bedecked in all red, talked with them about weddings in the past when the brides arrived on dragons circling the castles. Dressed in a gray tunic with gray leggings and black boots, golden-haired Cadeyrn tapped his fingers on the silver tablecloth in rhythm to the music. Emma and Alex formally thanked all the wizards for attending. For a moment, she thought Cadeyrn would invite her to dance, for he half rose off his chair, and then he resumed his seat.

She saw a flicker of wistfulness in his eyes as he gazed at the other dancers. Alex sat next to Drust and Emma joined him. Clad in a cobalt blue tunic embroidered with silver thread, and cobalt blue trousers, Drust looked more at home with the wizards than the guests.

“Cadeyrn remembers this song well, for he enjoyed it as a mortal,” Drust told them. “I am slowly learning the past of my fellow wizards.”

“If it is a favorite, why doesn’t the Shadow Wizard ask one of the other guests to dance?” she quietly suggested to Drust. “I would do it, but for the fact I keep tripping over this masterpiece of a wedding gown and it’s protocol for the bride to only dance with close relatives or her groom.”

“You look quite lovely,” Drust assured her. “Mortals will not go near him, or any of us. We make Others nervous. It is the price of being immortal, with enough power to turn your wedding guests into dust.”

“Does it bother you?” Alex looked at his own father, who kept staring at Drust as if expecting him to vanish or turn into smoke. Or turn
him
into smoke.

“No. I’ve been dead for hundreds of years. Being immortal is an adjustment, nothing more.” Drust shrugged as he sipped from his silver wine goblet.

Emma reached over, the fringe from the headdress swinging into her face. With an impatient hand, she held it back and kissed his cheek. “You don’t make me nervous, Drust. Thank you for all you have done.”

He smiled, and it made his face look less grim. Still, with the beard and the black mustache, Drust could have been young as Alex. He looked like a pirate, relaxing between sessions of plundering booty, or ravishing maidens.

She and Alex returned to the head table. It was awkward walking in this gown fashioned from stiff red brocade with an under gown of crimson silk. The overcoat was embroidered with dozens of rubies and diamonds. The headdress was even more cumbersome, an exquisite crown of gold with spikes a foot tall, and diamonds set into each. Sabrina insisted on loaning it to her, for it was the traditional bridal dress of royalty for Clan Ciamoth.

Thanks, pal.

She spied her friend sitting at the head table, conversing with Derek, now her permanent bodyguard, a mutual decision between Alex and Derek and Sabrina.

“How do you get around in this thing?” Emma asked her.

“Better you than me,” Sabrina said and she winked as Derek grinned.

Finally it was all over, the speeches, the dancing and music and feasting.

Led by 10 handmaidens and Sabrina, and the queen herself, Emma went to the enormous apartments in Clan Drakon’s palace. Her new home with Alex featured an entire floor for them to be alone.

It took five of the handmaidens to remove the crown from her head, and then the Queen placed it upon a crimson velvet pillow. She kissed Emma’s cheek.

The double doors of the bedchamber opened and Alex walked inside, his gaze smoldering.

Sabrina and the others scurried out. At the doors, Sabrina thrust two thumbs into the air.

The doors closed behind them. Alex locked them and leaned against them.

“I put out the word that anyone disturbing us for the next three days will be fried in oil.”

She fumbled with the buttons on the front of the gown. “That’s rather inconvenient. We will need to eat.”

“There’s a fully stocked kitchen in the next room and they’ll bring us meals each day. But no one gets into this bedchamber.” His expression turned intent. “Or out.”

“Demanding, aren’t we, husband?”

“Not your husband,” he said softly. “Not until we consummate this marriage.”

He glanced at his gold Rolex. “You have five minutes to get out of that ridiculous gown before I tear it off you.”

“That would be a shame. It is 500 years old and not something Sabrina bought on sale at David’s Bridal shop.”

One month of celibacy. One month to plan this extravagant wedding, with all its pomp and circumstance. Alex was raging to make love, like a bull scenting a female in heat. She burned as well, her desire cranked up to the point of madness. She had nearly forgotten herself while eating dinner at the head table and reached for Alex’s groin beneath the elegant gold and silver tablecloth.

He’d offered a faint smile and whispered to her, “Not now, my love. Protocol first.”

“It
is
called a head table,” she’d whispered back.

Now her hands shook with excitement as she unfastened the row of pearl buttons. Didn’t they believe in zippers 500 years ago?

“You’re ovulating,” he murmured, undoing the silver buttons of his black dress uniform. “I’m not going to be able to control myself. I’m going to be inside you so deep that when you walk, if you can walk, you will feel me for days.”

Shivering with anticipation, she tugged at the stiff gold brocade outer gown, trying to wriggle free. “A phantom dick. Sounds like a plan to me.”

She managed to shed the outer golden garment, and stood clad in the simpler silk under gown of crimson.

Alex glanced at his watch again. “One minute.”

His jacket and shirt lay on the floor. Emma stopped trying to shed the dress and stared at his magnificent chest, the dark hair crisp against his tanned skin.

He unfastened his trousers and withdrew his erection. She gave a little gasp. It was much larger, thick as her wrist and quite long. Much longer than previously.

“Did your middle finger g-grow?” she stammered, her gaze riveted to his penis.

“A trademark of royal dragons when faced with brides in heat,” he murmured. Alex strode toward her. “Time’s up.”

“I’m not wearing panties,” she offered.

He hissed. “Good.”

They kissed each other, tongues tangling, their moans mingling as they held each other tight.

When Alex released her, he looked dangerous. Passion burned in his blue-green eyes and his jaw clenched like stone.

“I have to get inside you, Em. Now. Before I fucking die.”

She felt wet and aching, swollen with need as he pushed up her skirts to feel beneath them. Shivering with anticipation, Emma kissed him again, wrapping her arms around his neck. He was hard, steely muscle as he kissed her back in a desperation equaling her own. Alex touched the soft flesh of her thigh and then delved between her wet folds as she moaned. He slid a long finger back and forth, creating more dampness. She opened her thighs wide, feeling shaky with need. He backed her up against the wall. Then he was settling his body between her legs, opening them and pushing her against the silver and black wallpaper. Alex stroked a finger across her soaked cleft and she moaned with anticipation.

“Good. You’re wet for me,” he murmured.

“You don’t believe in beds,” she whispered.

“Not when I’ve been denied your body for a month.”

With an impatient growl, he tore at the crimson under gown, exposing her bare breasts. For a moment he looked stunned.

“No bra, either,” she said helpfully. “It seemed like a waste of time when I knew you would have it off me in minutes.”

Alex groaned as he stared at her breasts as a dragon would eye prey he planned to devour. He cupped them, thumbing her diamond-hard nipples. Pleasure arrowed through her, making her moan and then Alex took a breast into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the taut bud. As he suckled her, she threw back her head and tunneled her fingers through his hair.

His thick, silky hair. Gods, she loved caressing his hair and now he was hers. All hers.

With one trembling hand, he shoved up her skirts again. With his other hand, he guided his thick cock to her swollen, waiting core. She felt his thick penis push at her center and opened her legs wider. But he seemed too big this time, and frustration made her wriggle. He grunted and adjusted himself and began working himself inside her.

With a determined relentlessness, he thrust, penetrating her to the hilt.

Emma trembled, feeling impaled by the hardness and strength that was all Alex. The prince who was more than royalty, for he was the dragon who claimed her heart and her soul. And then her gaze met his and she saw the concerned tenderness there.

“Go on,” she whispered in encouragement. “I’m your mate now in the flesh.”

He nuzzled her neck, dropping little kisses there and inhaling the scent of her as if he could not get enough of her taste, her smell. Emma clung to him, wrapping her legs around his narrow hips.