Page 40 of Wedding the Werepanther

Shadow pushes forward against the front of my skirt to take my hands, and the mass of crinoline shifts around me, scratching my legs and threatening to tip me backward. But his grip is strong, holding me upright.

Shadow clears his throat, his eyes tracing over the parchment hung by the door. “Dearly beloved, we’re gatheredhere this day…” He continues on, playing first the officiant and then the groom saying his vows.

When we get to my vows, I pause, frozen, then whisper-hiss, “I don’t know what to say.” I should probably know them by heart, but I can’t remember, even though Shadow just said his. Public speaking is so not my thing, my social anxiety always kicking in and tangling my tongue. The Weddingpocalypse has struck again.

“Simply read them off the parchment as I did,” he murmurs.

I squint at the paper across the room like a person trying desperately not to fail the eye exam of their driver’s test. But no matter how hard I strain, I can’t get the black squiggles to turn into legible words. I give up with a sigh. “The parchment’s too far away. I can’t read it.”

“Repeat after me.” Shadow squeezes my hands and walks me through my vows line by line without a single smirk or hint of amusement. Until he reaches the final line, that is, his wide grin flashing bright as he says, “You may now kiss the bride.”

His fingers ghost along my jawline, leaving behind shivers as he tips my chin upward. He presses a kiss to one corner of my lips, then the other, soft teases that set my heart racing. By the time his mouth covers mine, I’m panting.

My hands glide up his chest, fingers curling around the tux’s lapels to keep us close as the Diabolical Dress’s skirt does its damnedest to shove us apart.

Then he growls, his arms banding across my back to crush me to him. Shadow kisses me like a starving man given his first bite of cake, like he won’t live another second without possessing all of me. Hot, frantic kisses that make my head spin and send a shock of tingling awareness sizzling through my entire body to center on my aching clit.

I’ve never been this turned on by another person, and all we’re doing is kissing.

The lights flicker on and off, and we keep kissing.

Doors slam in the distance, and we keep kissing.

The swaths of draped fabric forming an arch around the podium fall on top of us in a gauzy haze of white, and we finally break apart, laughing, as Shadow shoves the organza away.

He reads the magical parchment on the other side of the room. “Victoria demands we do the recessional in order to complete the ceremony.”

I cast a skeptical glance down the aisle. It’s not long, but between the Diabolical Dress and the Heels from Hell, there’s no way I’ll make it that far. “You’ll have to help me.”

The werepanther battles his way through the multiple layers of the Fabric of Destruction to reach my side, where he wraps an arm around my waist and lifts me until my feet barely touch the ground.

Dewdrop flies over to give me my bouquet, then precedes us down the aisle like an honor guard.

The “Wedding March” plays as Shadow half-carries me back down the aisle, but from the outside it hopefully looks like we’re both walking.

When we reach the entryway, Victoria’s already writing on the parchment:“On to the wedding reception!”

“Okay, but not in this.” I gesture toward the dress. I had to do a weird-assed hover squat when I tried to sit on my bed earlier, and there’s no way in hell I can make it through an entire meal in this thing.

“Kayla, you promised!”

Think fast, I goad myself. Then I mentally snap my fingers. “You know I can be a messy eater. I don’t want to get anything on the dress. White lace is impossible to get stains out of.”

“Well.”The words form slowly.“I suppose you have a point.”

“Shadow, can you do your trick again and get me upstairs using the shadow roads?”

“Nope.” He smirks and bends over, arm diving into the mass of the Fabric of Destruction to wrap around the back of my knees. When he stands, he sweeps me off my feet into a bridal carry and bounds up the stairs.

“Show off,” I say.

“You love it.”

I kinda do. The one and only time Bradley tried to pick me up, he swore more than all the characters inGrand Theft Autocombined and didn’t stop whining about it for months afterward. It’s flippingdelightfulto have Shadow carry me around like it’s no big deal.

He sets me down in my bedroom, then shoves his way past the skirt to unbutton my dress. When the balloon sleeves start to slip, I press a hand to my chest to hold the bodice in place until he finishes.

“This would be a lot more fun without this in the way.” He taps one of the Girdle of Doom’s pieces of metal boning.