Chapter 20

Violet

I fell silent, staring at Theodore. It was... romantic in a way, but also spoke to exactly how spoiled he'd grown up. He sounded younger than I'd ever thought the infamous Theodore Nightshade of being. He was only two years younger than me, but right now, he seemed more like a teenager and a brat.

I shook my head. "For future reference, I appreciate someone who values other people's time more than grand gestures."

He blinked at me, and I had a feeling he didn't even understand what I was talking about.

"Still... I appreciate your effort." I nodded toward the seats. "Shall we?"

He hesitated a moment before nodding, but there was a thoughtful look on his face.

We took seats as the staff hurried around pulling every dress they had. I felt bad and exhausted already. Telling them I hated most of them would make me look terrible, even if it was true. I'd have to try on at least twice as many as I would have usually.

There was also the fact that this was more about Theodore's tastes than mine. When they finally stopped moving, I glanced over them, holding back my expression before looking at Theodore as he looked at each of them.

He gestured to eight different ones. "Try those on."

Eight out of what was probably at least fifty? I shook my head, giving one of the staff members the most apologetic look I could manage before following her to the dressing room.

Two of them were a no as they didn't even fit, nor did they make those dresses in my size. Theodore looked outright disappointed.

Three of them were relatively nice but reminiscent of the dress I wore to marry Lucas. Theodore said no to those immediately, and I was grateful.

I wasn’t the type to care much about clothes, but I didn't need those memories haunting me more than they already did.

The next two were nice, but I could tell he wasn't overly impressed by either of them.

Then, we got to the last one. First, it was extravagant as hell. I would have never have picked out this dress for me. The lace was far too delicate, all the beaded work felt too fragile, but the silhouette was flattering. It hugged me in the right places, and once they'd gotten me into it, I had to admit that the man had an eye for fashion.

I stood in the full-length mirror, noticing the way his eyes trailed over me, seemingly stunned, speechless, and awed.

"You picked it out. Did you not think it would look good?"

He blinked and said nothing, but I didn't know what to think of that.

For a moment, I wasn’t standing in a boutique in Midnight. I was twenty-one again, standing in a different boutique, trying on a different wedding dress. My father was still alive, smiling proudly from where Theodore sat, his eyes misty and happy. I remembered how happy he'd been to be there. How he'd wished my mother had been there to see me.

He'd told me about their wedding preparations with a wistful smile and tears in his eyes, and it had soothed my worries about this all moving so fast.

My parents had known each other for a year of real courtship before they were married. When they'd met at the altar, they were already in love, but Lucas and I were closer to strangers, yet I believed in our fate.

I had been so young, so hopeful, and so naive. I had been lying to myself honestly.

My father may have wanted a man to run the pack, but he'd also wanted to walk me down the aisle before he died, and I --no matter how much I resented him at times-- couldn't take that from him.

"You don't look happy."

I pulled myself out of my thoughts. His voice was just behind me, and he was staring into my eyes through the mirror. We looked... good together, a better visual match than Lucas and I had ever been in any case. Something about the height difference and the size of him standing just behind me.

"Just... thinking."

"Not about the dress."

"No."

"I'm not sure how I feel about you thinking of him standing here with me."

I chuckled at that. "Don't be a brat... We were married for seven years. We took oaths. I'm not nearly as much of a cold-hearted bitch as most believe."

He blinked. "I have never heard such a rumor about you."

I frowned, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

“It's perfect for you,” he said softly. "Do you like it?"

"I think it's more a matter of if you like it."

"You're wearing it."

"I've never really cared much about what I wore." I shrugged. "So long as it was neat and presentable."

He hesitated. "... was that before or after you met Lucas?"

I blinked, glancing at him. Suddenly, my chest felt tight. My eyes were burning. I could hear someone speaking to me, but I couldn't make it out. Images flashed through my mind. The smell of alcohol drifted through my nose, and the pain surged through me-- ripping and cutting like glass. I felt sick, and my strength started to wane.

"Violet?"

I pressed my lips together and clenched my jaw against the cry of pain that wanted to escape me. I could hear Lucas and Nora's voices again. It felt like the bond was breaking all over again. Wedding bells chimed in my head. I could hear his vows.

Fidelity and love...

For as long as the moon shines...

My stomach lurched from the pain. I shook, trying to keep standing, but I couldn't.

"I should get out of this," I said as evenly as possible. I turned back toward the dressing room, moving as quickly as I could. I don't remember closing the door behind me. I don't remember anything when my knees buckled and I slid to the floor trying not to damage the dress, trying not to pass out, trying to hold on to what little dignity I had left.

I ended up in a ball, curled into myself, leaning against the wall, my heart pounding against my ribcage, and my fist shoved between my teeth, fighting the urge to scream.

It would pass or I would pass out. Those were my only options.

My shoulder throbbed from where the bullet had been.

I closed my eyes, trying to push the memories away, but they refused to leave. My soul was screaming, replaying every moment of betrayal: the cruel joy in his eyes and voice when he'd seen the mark, the way he'd disrespected me in public, the fact that he'd shot me...

A whimper escaped me as the pain intensified. My vision started to go spotty, so I closed my eyes.

Please.

Goddess, please just let it pass.

The door creaked open unexpectedly. I sucked in a sharp breath and seconds later, I felt Theodore's warm hand on my shoulder. His body pressed closer to me, warming the air. I shivered. When had I gotten cold?

He pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around me before pulling me toward him.

"Stop," he whispered, tugging at my wrist until I could stand to pull my teeth out. "It's not that kind of wound."

I wanted to ask him what he knew about it, but I couldn't trust myself to speak.

“If you want,” he said, his voice low, “I can give you a new bond.”

Everything in me screamed.

“No,” I bit out.

I didn't even have to think about it. I couldn’t do it. Not again, let alone with an indiscriminate playboy. I’d rather endure the pain of it a thousand times over than form a new one. I was already in a complicated mess with him. I didn't need to give him any more leverage to manipulate me.

"I'll," I paused, swallowing through the pain. "Be. Fine."

He said nothing, but he moved away. I swallowed the whimper of loss at his warmth and tried to stop shivering. I heard the door close as I tried to reach for some semblance of peace. Meditation. Disassociation, whatever I needed to block out this pain until it was over. I pressed my fist to my chest, pushing on it as if it would help the throbbing pain of the bond.

"You may never cease to surprise me," Theodore said.

I looked up, shocked that he was still there. He got on the floor beside me and pulled me into his arms. His presence was warm and solid, but he didn’t try to force anything. He didn't say a word to me but pulled me into his lap. I wanted to resist, but I couldn't. My hands clenched in his shirt, gripping tightly until all I could smell was him. All I could feel beyond the pain was his warmth.

Then, the pain started to fade.