6. Give You My Word

~ JESSE ~

When Casimir had used the word “Cleric” I’d imagined some stuffy old man in a suit with a black collar—like a priest.

Instead, the man—wolf—who showed up was young, handsome, and vital. I couldn’t have picked him out of the guards if they’d lined up.

Maybe all the wolves were like that? Big, strong, hot?

I’d heard the legends about women having wolf-lovers before, but again, it was always a whispered story at a sleepover, or someone’s fantasy fiction. A naughty, forbidden kind of story. Never something I’d taken seriously.

But after I’d hurriedly bathed, surprised by the pleasant smell of the soap that felt different in my hands to what I was used to, and twisted up my hair as best I could with only a small mirror and dim light, and put on the strange-but-beautiful dress that Ghere handed me through the door. When Ghere led me back to the first chamber where Casimir had appeared, it occurred to me that, perhaps, all these stories I’d heard weren’t fiction at all.

I couldn’t imagine any of these men being left alone if they appeared in public in my world. Any one of them would turn heads. And Casimir was… stunning. Terrifying, too. But if I hadn’t seen him use that power, if I’d just looked at him, he’d dry the roof of my mouth.

He’d changed his clothes and now stood in a slim-fitting black tunic-jacket that looked like it belonged in some historical romance. But it also revealed that he was every bit as powerfully built as he’d appeared.

The fur vest he’d been wearing before hadn’t increased his size, only complemented it.

He wore tight fitting black boots, beige pants that clung to the muscles on his thighs, and a white shirt, open at the throat, but otherwise very stiff—the collar stood high and cuffs with cufflinks peeked out of the jacket sleeves whenever he raised an arm.

The jacket itself was embroidered in thin gold and silver thread that blinked and flashed in the low light whenever he moved. At first I’d thought it was just a pattern, some kind of design. But when I was ushered to the front of the room to stand next to him, I realized the embroidery depicted scenes—wolves hunting, wolves fighting, and men… men taking women.

I swallowed and prayed.

I’d done my best to make myself look good with the things they’d given me. The dress was strange, but beautiful—light and airy so that I barely felt the weight of it. Thin spaghetti straps held a wide round neck that dipped low enough to bare my collarbones and show a hint of cleavage at the front, and below my shoulder-blades at the back. It was gathered at front and back, but the beautiful, flowing material and the way it had been cut meant that even though it was technically a loose dress, it fell against my body, cascading from my breasts and hips in ways that were almost suggestive.

Casimir’s eyes blazed when he caught sight of me approaching, and I was half flattered and half terrified by the sudden hunger in his gaze.

“No longer the dirty puppy, but suddenly very much a woman,” he growled approvingly.

I just stared at him, still taking in the subtle images on that jacket. He raised one brow and opened his arms, turning slowly for me. “Do I meet with my Queen’s approval?” he asked smugly, not a hint of doubt in his tone.

I nodded, but was still swallowing the choking fear that punched me right in the guts the moment I’d entered the room, because holy shit, this was actually happening.

There was the wolf he’d called a Cleric—dark haired, dark eyes, broad shoulders, and a gaze that seemed to see everything, and approve of little. There was Ghere, standing behind Casimir, also in a new suit, though nothing as fine as the King’s. And there were several other wolves milling around near the door where we’d been brought in here, to be witnesses, Ghere had said.

No women. No females at all.

My knees felt like they might give.

Then the Cleric cleared his throat and called all the others to pay attention. His eyes cut between me and Casimir, dark and disapproving, but he made a hasty introduction of why we were there that wasn’t unlike how I imagined a real wedding in my world would go. Except, without the smiling and hope.

Every man—male—here was focused and attentive, but the feeling in the room was as if we were there for a business meeting. Everyone concentrating on reaching a goal, but no one even remotely emotional about it.

I stared at Casimir, whose gaze was raking up and down my form, his smile growing more predatory every second. My heart raced, then pounded, until it felt like it was trying to flee my chest.

But then I realized all eyes were on me, including the Cleric’s.

“I… I’m sorry…what?”

The Cleric glanced at Casimir, but spoke to me. “Do you honor the King as Dominant?”

“I… yes?”

“And do you accept him as mate, embracing your fate both together, and apart?”

“Yes…”

“Do you open yourself without reservation, accepting the bond and stepping to the throne with the duty and honor required of the role?”

“I do.”

“Will you serve your people, your mate, and husband, without hesitation?”

“Yes.”

The Cleric’s eyes grew darker, as if he was angry, and I couldn’t figure out why.

Casimir looked hungry, but otherwise bored.

“And will you give yourself without boundary, give your womb to produce the heir, and your body as a vessel to the King until the day of your death?”

I blinked.

Casimir’s eyes, which had been lingering on my breasts, suddenly snapped up to my face and he went very still.

Our gazes locked and my breath got thinner, faster.

Body as vessel.

Womb for the heir.

Given. Taken. No boundaries.

I started to shake. But there was no choice. No other option. He’d kill me now if I didn’t say yes—and frankly, I’d rather be dead than go back home after all of this.

So, I released the breath that was tense in my lungs and held Casimir’s eye-contact. “I will,” I said, as clearly as I could, glad that there was only a small tremor in my voice.