My heart hurt to see such uncertainty in a friend who’d been nothing but a rock to me. It was time I took the role of supporter, guiding her to the emotion she wanted most of all—freedom from her past.
Grabbing her in a hug, I squeezed hard, cursing the boning of the corset. “I want you to do it. You’d be doing me an incredible honour, giving me away to the man we both love.”
Her heart-shaped face shattered with happy moisture. She pulled away, dabbing at her makeup, practically pushing her tears back inside. She wore a powder grey dress, matching my style with one shoulder and organza train. Her beautiful brown hair was coiled into four thick curls down her back.
She was so pretty. Franco will notice. He has to notice.
I rolled my eyes, thinking of the clueless man. He needed a push in the right direction if he didn’t get the memo today—but I had a feeling Suzette would tell him loud and clear. Weddings had a way of bringing people together—cutting through the unsaid mess, letting the truth blare.
Suzette once again looped her arm through mine. “Ready to get married?”
Lungs. Stomach. Heart.
I swallowed hard.
“Tu es à moi, esclave.” You’re mine. Q’s voice whispered through my mind, granting me serenity.
Yes, I’m ready. Ready to change my world forever.
My nerves disappeared, leaving me with utmost confidence and love. “Yes.”
Leaving the gorgeous chalet, we made our way around the seahorse pool, heading inland, following the musical map coming from the venue.
The white sand had been swept from the boardwalk and scattered frangipani petals led the way. Staff members stood like sentries in equal distance, smiling as we passed. We had no others in our procession. Just me and Suzette.
I held no posies or veil over my face. The dress was all the embellishing I needed—that and the ‘Q’ branded into my neck.
I focused inward, thinking about the crescent moon. I’d known Q was in danger. I’d known and stupidly believed he was strong enough, protected enough, to stay safe. I hadn’t planned on him playing roulette with his life. Or sacrificing himself for me.
He would’ve died protecting me. And although it was romantic to have that sort of power, it was a huge responsibility.
“You okay?” Suzette squeezed my arm.
Her touch wrenched me from my thoughts. “Yes, sorry.”
I held my hand out, admiring my wing-inspired ring. After everything we’d been through, I hadn’t had time to buy Q a ring. “I’ve failed in the only job I had for this wedding.”
Suzette glanced at my ring.
“I didn’t get him one. What can I put on his finger after our vows?”
Nothing. You’ll have to wait till you’re home.
We turned a corner, leaving the density of the palm trees to find a large white marquee, resting on the sands edge. The waves looked like turquoise glass, smacking gently onto sand—a silky ripple.
“Stop worrying. I have everything under control.” Suzette grinned. “All you need to worry about is not tripping up the aisle.”
We stopped outside the marquee. Two men in white uniforms smiled, pulling back the flaps of the venue.
“Ready to go to him?” Suzette whispered as we drifted forward, trading island sun for cool shadows. The tented world welcomed, hushing our footsteps. Tears glossed my eyes, imprinting the rapturous beauty.
“Suzette—” My red glitter high-heels wedged into the softness of the carpet, jerking us to a stop. “You did all this? It’s incredible.”
“You deserved a bit of paradise. I’m glad you like it.”
I couldn’t take it in. Too picturesque. Too perfect. The space was large, housing a row of five or six black chairs. Most were unoccupied, waiting for their owners who were part of the ceremony. It was small, intimate. Not that I’d expected crowds—or that Q would permit it.
The walls were covered with white satin drapery, making it seem like we’d stepped into a cloud. The ceiling held bolts of ivory fabric, swooping low, creating intimacy.
I’ll never forget this.
Then my eyes landed on him.
And the room paled entirely. I no longer cared about drapery or flowers. All I cared about was him. The man I was destined for.
My master. Husband. Lover. Protector.
My heart was never mine. It was his along. I’d been the guardian. Now he’d claimed it.
Him.
Q stood at the top of the aisle flanked by Franco and Frederick; the two groomsman wore matching grey suits, mirroring Suzette’s dress.
Q on the other hand wore white. His dark hair had been styled into the same pelt-like cut I remembered. His body stood proud and majestic, sheathed in a white blazer, waistcoat, and trousers. The only splash of darkness was a black tie. He looked incredible. He looked too much—too priceless to be real.
The moment our eyes met I felt faint, delirious.
He’s mine. I’m his.
I wanted to fly up the aisle and imprison him in my arms. From here he didn’t look hurt. From here he looked strong and savage—ready to kill or conduct a quiet business affair. He bordered the line of aggression so effortlessly.
His gaze stayed transfixed on me, his face locked into an unreadable mask.
Then the music changed.
It echoed with haunting bass notes, sorrowful flutes, and empowering chords.
A woman I didn’t know stood off to the side. Her polished ebony hair fell in heavy sheets over her shoulders, threaded with silver feathers. Her dark eyes assessed me, an appraising—almost haughty look—on her face. Her dress was grey too, shorter, fuller around her calves and detailed with pearl buttons on the bodice.
A smile transformed her coolness with warmth. Bowing her head, she raised a microphone to her lips and began to sing.
It was as if her voice carried every weapon imaginable—destroying me all at once. I knew her voice. Her passion, the rasp, the melancholy hope.
I shivered as the lyrics drilled their way into my heart.
I have no more need to hide—not now that I have you
I once had a loveless life—but now I’m falling true
You waltzed into my world—making me turn tame
You turned my wickedness into trust even without your name
The verse was about us—sang by the woman who’d recorded Q’s other songs—the same songs he’d played when I first arrived—the haunting melodies encouraging me to find the true Q—to hunt for the monster within.
The full circle on finally understanding his favourite artist stole strength from my legs.