Her head was high, spine regal, those that didn’t know her would think she was royally composed, with the bearing of the true princess that she was.
But, Dev could see the apprehension that wavered through her eyes as she looked around the room with astonished surprise at the people gathered there. All of whom were smiling at her. Her gaze drew to him.
He tried to smile at her, help ease her, but he couldn’t. His heart was in his throat clogging the air to his brain, and he was busy fighting the erection that the damned dress gave him.
But now relief was clearing the tension in his shoulders, fear had tightened them with worry that something would transpire to prevent the wedding from happening. Hmm, his mouth nicked in, he had never worried about anything in his life before.
The strain of desiring her without being able to consummate it at this very minute only made his harsh face more fierce. A shiver ran through men and women alike but for different reasons. His severe toughness made men nervous but titillated the female gender.
Dev had never craved a woman like he did Sveti. His knees were almost weak with the depth of feeling he had for her. The very thought of life without her made his stomach twist empty in pain.
His brows twitched. Was that love? Nay, he was not capable of possessing that emotion, he blinked the foreign thought away.
Soft music played and Bowie was bringing Sveti to him. Dev could see under Bowie’s smile, he was whispering encouraging words to her while propelling her up the aisle. If not for the blush Mara had swept on her round cheeks, she would be pale as a swan’s down.
It was fucked up that his bride had to be dragged to her own wedding, and looked at her husband with terror, and a shade of anger too for him forcing this on her.
But, it was what it was, she had to marry him or face the unknown which, since males were bidding for her online, didn’t bode well that any of them weren’t dangerous sickos.
It didn’t take long for them to get to where Dev waited with Brahms on one side of him and a captain who would do the ceremony, the room wasn’t that big. They were standing on a small raised alter.
Bowie walked Sveti up the three steps then tugged her cold hand that was clinging with a death-grip to his arm and placed it on Dev’s. Before she could pull it away, Dev laid his hard hand over it.
Bowie stood beside Sveti as her witness. He gave her a quick wink. She stood towered over by the four immense warriors.
Dev gently turned Sveti so they faced the captain.
Captain Horatio read the necessary words, and Dev and Sveti said their vows.
Dev spoke his in a low gruff voice. After the captain having to prompt her, Sveti was barely audible, her hushed voice had a tremble in it, and she said her vows to his shoulder, not looking him in the eye, even when he squeezed her hand trying to get her to.
Except when he got to the part where Dev had the captain add in the old fashioned ‘obey your husband’ part in her vows. Her flaming brows spiked down and she flashed a scowl at him, then, with a smug smile, she finished her vows without saying the word ‘obey.’
A sly grin tugged up his harsh face as he mouthed the word, ‘punishment’ to her.
A flicker of fear trickled over her face along with what looked to Dev like a shock of sudden lust that darkened her baby blues.
Ah, his bride was thinking about the spanking he’d promised, but less with fear and more with, could he hope- desire? Damn, his hands were sweating, the games he was going to teach her…
The captain droned on, Sveti’s lips parted in surprise when Brahms held his palm out with two wedding bands on it. What little color she had drained from her soft complexion, her eyes darted up to Dev. He regarded her solemnly.
For the first time she spoke to him, “I don’t think rings are necessary.” She whispered, “You certainly can’t fight with one on your finger, it would hinder you, and so I don’t need to wear one either.” It would be so much harder to flee from him with his brand on her.
His eyes directed hard and level right into hers, Dev took the smaller ring and pushed it on her finger quietly reciting his marriage promise. When it was her turn, she hesitated.
“Svetiessa,” he murmured.
She picked it up and with nerveless fingers pushed it on his thick finger, with her head lowered she repeated the promise.
The cool mellifilia metal felt strange on his skin. He looked down at it, then at hers, he smiled, then looked up at her. He wanted his claim on her to be crystal clear to any male that would think to hit on her. She was his. Her eyes were fixed on him, her thoughts unreadable.
“You may kiss your bride,” the captain announced with a broad smile.
Dev had chosen to have the ancient ceremony of the Earth, being the chauvinist that he was, he liked the old fashion tradition of it.
Sveti was staring at the round piece of exotic metal on her finger. Dev cupped her face with both hands and gently lifted her head to seal his lips on hers. The fire that was always ignited whenever he touched her, especially those cherry lips, burst into flames. He had to keep the kiss short or he’d be embarrassing himself walking out, and the small stage would truly be on fire.
“Please welcome, Principé and Prințesă, Mr. and Mrs. Devilos Dravidian!” Captain Horatio announced loudly.
Dev disregarded the look she shot at him that he deigned to force her to take his name, it was so outdated, but again, he liked the old fashioned Earthly aspect of it.
Her acquiring his name made him feel they were more blended as one, and that she was now, in all ways, his. She could fight about carrying his name all she wanted to later, but it was on their legal documents and she would have to go by it.
Dev took her hand and raised it in the air to the cheers and clapping, and good wishes circulating in the room.
After the ceremony, there was food, drinking and dancing. Teeth grit, Dev had to watch other men, his best friends included, claiming dances with Sveti and keep his cool. Whatever. It was for the last time.
His bottom lip bunched. Bowie had grabbed her up and the bastard was holding his wife as close to him as he could. He was doing it on purpose to rile Dev, and it was working.
Dev paid no attention to the babbly women he held while circling the small floor, all he could think about was Sveti’s tits mushed all over Bowie’s chest, their pelvises and thighs touching, he wondered if her nipples were hard, poking into- shit, he couldn’t wait for the night to get over and he could have her alone.
A few dances later, as soon as it was polite, Dev strode over and snatched Sveti out of Connar’s big arms. “Sorry bro, it’s time for us to leave.”
Ignoring Connar’s leer and Sveti’s suddenly white face, Dev took her hand and led her through the crowded room, letting people give their well wishes, and lewd comments for the new couple.
The fierce powerful warlord, horns pushing up through the braids all over his head showering down his shoulders and back, and the dainty, angelic but sinfully built, prințesă. Men put their hands on her and gave her kisses until Dev thought he would fucking explode. Finally they were out.
Holding her hand, Dev led her along the main boardwalk of the sphere-enclosed station. A hundred thousand people resided there on a fluctuating basis.
They passed shops and bars, a green park, until they were back to their section. They continued in silence strolling the long corridors and elevators to his suite. The closer they got, the stiffer her hand became in his hand and the slower she walked.
She was trying his patience. She acted like he was a monster for fuck’s sake and she was on the way to being slaughtered as a sacrifice or something. Okay, so technically he was a monster, but still, she didn’t need to be so goddamned terrified of him, and she clearly did not want to be wedded to him, or be alone with him.
Pique scraped his mouth into a rigid line, his jaw working, he shoved his cardkey into the door, it slid open. When Sveti tried to hold back, he bent and lifted her in his arms.
&n
bsp; “Sire! What are you doing!” she shrieked.
“Goddammit woman, what did I tell you about my name?” Growling his irritation, he carried her over the threshold, another ancient tradition. She was soft and curvy in his arms, he unconsciously held her closer to his chest drawing in her heady woman’s warmth and fragrance.
Remembering his threat of punishment, Sveti exclaimed, “De- Devilos, please, I didn’t mean anything by it,” her arm swung around his neck or it would have gotten crushed against his chest. The one ringlet bounced over her chest, the other two trailed down her back and over his arm. They were both reminded of when, he, fully dressed, had carried her almost naked to her bedroom.
“I know. Your nerves are wrung tight.” He strode through the small vestibule into the living room.
Still holding her, Dev looked down, his heart quivered at the raw fear crimping his new bride’s face. “Please relax, Svetiessa. I promise, I won’t do anything you don’t want me to tonight. We can just go to bed, I mean just go to sleep. I would of course like to consummate our joining, but,” he sighed gently, “I hate to see that damned palpable fear of me in your eyes.”
He wanted her to fear him on one level, he needed her to obey him. He had lived centuries, she had only lived a short life even for a mortal, he knew the dangers of the world that she was so innocent of, and he had to protect her.
She had been about to trot down the avenue and throw herself at the first prince, stranger, she came to, for Zues’ sake, thinking it would solve her problems.
Long lashes curled around the big blues gazing up at him. “Thank you, Devilos,” she said quietly.
He waited for more, when she said nothing, he set her down. “Here,” he said, moving to a bucket on a table and drew out a bottle of champagne with a towel wrapped around it. “We can at least toast to our union. Okay?” And maybe the alcohol would loosen her up a little.
He quickly unbuttoned his black tunic, shrugged it off and tossed it on a chair then rolled up the sleeves of the white shirt. Lifting the bottle, he twisted the wire off and the cork out and poured the bubbly liquid into flowing flutes. He set the bottle in the bucket and handed her a glass and then picked up the other.
Sveti lifted the glass to her nose then giggled.
“What?” he asked, stupefied by her giggle. He’d barely heard it before and it was musical, sweetly girlish, and bubbly like the champagne, his groin and heart ached as one.
“The bubbles, they tickle my nose.” She grinned at him and he felt his heart flip over and bang against his ribs.
“Uh, aye.” He cleared his throat and raised his glass and said, “To us, my beautiful bride.” He waited for her to lift her glass to clink with his. She did, murmuring, “Um, to us.”
Dev slugged down half his flute while she just watched him. “Drink, Svetiessa, there is no point to a toast if you don’t drink after.”
She looked down at the pale golden bubbles. “Um, okay. But, Devilos, I really haven’t drunk liquor before.”
“You had wine at the- you know when we danced that first time.”
Shaking her head. “No, I never got to drink it, that man, Charlie, took me right away to dance-” She stopped at the darkness that crept into his skin and through his eyes. “Okay.” She quickly tipped the glass to her lips and drank several mouthfuls, and then choked and sputtered as the bubbles tickled down her throat.
Laughing, Dev patted her gently on the back. “Slower, honey, you need to sip slower.” He took a sip of his own glass then when she didn’t drink anymore he said, “Slower, but drink, it will help take the tension out of your bones.” And make your legs more spreadable for your husband.
She complied taking a more careful drink.
Grabbing up the bucket, he tucked it under his arm and grasped his flute in one hand, he said, “Come,” and held his hand out, “let’s go on the balcony.”
She put her small hand in his and he took her across the room and through glass doors that swished to the side as they passed through.
The suite was up high; they could see much of the space station. It was night, but people were prowling the restaurants and bars. The complex teemed with all kinds of creatures making their way to somewhere.
Leaning against the railing, Sveti took a sip and smiled. “This is a great balcony, Devilos, you can see forever. Even through the clear dome I can see the evening sky and stars.” She held her glass in both hands staring in awe at the scenery beyond them. Dev set his fingers on the bottom of her flute and lifted it to her lips.
“Okay,” she laughed, “I get the hint.” They leaned against the railing and for the first time, chatted comfortably.
She asked, “Your parents, do you, uh, have any?”
One big shoulder shrugged. “Not in the respect that you have, or could understand. I was in training as soon as I could walk. That was throughout my growing years.”
Her lips pushed to a pout. “That sounds…lonely. Don’t you have any siblings?”
He nodded, the braids flopped over his chest. “Aye. You will meet them at some point. My brothers trained as I did, but we never lived in what you would call a…house as a family.”
“Hmm. A home. A building you live in is a house, the people you choose to live with are your home.”
Dev wiped his fingers and thumb down the side of his mouth and pondered her, and her words. His deep voice quiet, he said, “You are my home now, Svetiessa.”
Those long lashes flowed up, then down to cover her thoughts, then rose so he could see them. “I…” she didn’t know what to say. It was the most profound, nicest thing he has said to her. Did she hear longing in his voice? Her lids narrowed at him, but he appeared fully without guile. Which was funny, because by his own nature, he was cunning.
Chapter Twenty-Two
After a sip, he set his flute on the wide railing, without looking at her, Dev commented coolly, “That’s a real, ah, pretty dress, Svetiessa.”
She looked down at the sheer lacy voile with wry chagrin. “You think so? You said Bowie had purchased a dress I had liked, but I sure did not admire this one. It is too- too-”
“Sexy?”
The color seeped into her cheeks with her slight nod, she set her glass beside his. “Yes. I feel a little, um, I don’t know,” she stared at the soft gown, raised the flouncy hem a bit, it fluttered like an early spring breeze.
“Sexy?” he repeated and turned to her, his heated gaze ruffled down her form, he kept his lids lowered so she couldn’t see the white streaking in his dark eyes, and willed his horns to not grow.
As soon as she would see the telltale evidence of his arousal she’d find a reason to bolt. He casually lifted a long ringlet off the front of her, his fingers faintly swept the bare swell of her bosom, and dipped slightly into her cleavage.
Her cheeks flamed, she didn’t know if he’d done that on purpose or not. She peered up at him suspiciously through the end curl of her lashes. He was calmly sifting the ringlet through his fingers, but his eyes were on her bodice, which made her cheeks burn hotter.
“So,” Sveti said feeling awkward, “is Brahms going to be here tonight? Will he come and, um,” her gaze drifted up to his head, “undo your braids? Or do you sleep in them?” Dev looked about to plunge into the neckline of her gown any second.
He settled the ringlet behind her back and this time, deliberately stroked his fingers over the top rounds of her breasts. “Nay. I don’t sleep in them but it is our wedding night, he will stay in his own chambers. We will have total privacy.”
The pads of his fingertips sifted softly over her mounds making her nipples pop through the sheer material. His pupils expanded, he didn’t look up at the rebuke sure to be directed at him. She was flypaper, and he, aye, he was the fly. He could not resist touching her soft skin, her sweet breasts.
She stepped out of his tantalizing reach, her hands trembled. “Devilos, you said you wouldn’t, force, uh, push me tonight to…”
His rich dark or
bs ablaze with white rose to her unsteady blues.
“Devilos, you said-”
The huge shoulders hunched, his sigh heavy and deep, he tucked his hands in his pockets. “Aye, I did promise you I wouldn’t push you. But,” he said with a cheeky grin, “I won’t say no if you want to follow tradition and tell me you want to consummate our marriage,” his brows wriggled at her.
He dug his hands deeper into his pockets. “But, Zues, Sveti, that dress,” pupils dilating, his eyes swooped down her body to her feet and back up, his chest swelled with a weighty inhale.
“You’re already temptation beyond belief, but you look like heavenly sin, so fucking hot in that thing, I, I don’t know.” He knew he should say it would be best if he left, went and bunked with Bowie, but hell, it was their wedding night.
The air fell out of his chest with a beleaguered sigh, he couldn’t make his mouth say the words or his force his feet to walk out the door.
Sveti picked up her flute and drank half her glass of champagne with nervous gulps. “How about I undo your braids for you?”
“Really?” He looked so boyishly surprised, an unnatural, but to Sveti, an endearing look for him.
She nodded. “Yes, I’d like to do that. Can we do it now?” She was bewildered at her own urge to touch him; his hair should be…safe.
He perused her for a moment, then picked up the bucket and said, “Let’s go in where we can sit comfortably,” gesturing towards the living room with his flute in his hand.
At her shaky nod, he led the way back inside. Setting the bucket on the coffee table, he went to the wall controls and dimmed the lights just a bit, set soft background music barely audible.
When he walked back to Sveti she was standing awkwardly, unsure of what to do.
He took her hand and settled her on the same sofa he had attacked her on that day he’d been mindless with jealousy. Then he stood, unsure, knowing if he was on the sofa beside her he was unlikely to keep his hands to himself.
Devil's Prince (Satan's Brood Book 1) Page 20
