In Wicked Chains (The Wicked) (17 page)

Epilogue

“Do you, Harper Elizabeth Royce, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold…”

Harper’s heartbeat drowned out the minister’s words, but really, did she need to hear them? All she had to do was smile and say yes. From the corner of her eye, she watched the small crowd. No one was there for her.

She had no family alive. At least, none she’d claimed, not the sister who’d apparently been through hell by the hands of a mad man, not the friend she’d alienated with her selfish actions.

Definitely not the man I love
.

Since any and all thoughts of Maysin brought her to tears, she shied away from memories of his face and his touch, and instead focused enough on the matter at hand to murmur, “I do,” under the expectant stares.

The minister shifted his attention to bother Isaiah about his vows and she dropped her gaze to her gown, a gorgeous creation made by the incomparable Ms. Wang. Harper grudgingly admitted she looked fucking stunning in the sleek, form-fitting number. On her feet she wore the ridiculously expensive pair of pink Givenchy heels Sasha gifted her a while ago.

“I do.”

Isaiah’s confident voice cut into her thoughts. She raised her eyes to him, and immediately wished she hadn’t. He wore that freaking gotcha expression she hated so much, topped off by a smirk.

“Then by the power vested in me…”

The reality hit her, then like a slap to the face, bringing instant tears to her eyes. She felt them, the invisible ties binding her to the man at her side. Slowly she felt her hope draining away, taking with it any chance for happiness, any chance for laughter.

“…husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

She’d have collapsed if her new husband hadn’t settled a death grip on her elbow. Behind them the crowd cheered, chanting
kiss, kiss
.

Tremors rocked her body. Her heart thumped so loud she wouldn’t have been surprised if everyone heard it. It was crying out. That’s what it was doing, crying out for Maysin.

“Well, wife? Care to seal this deal?” Isaiah raised an eyebrow and she stared at him like he’d gone mad.

Seal what deal?

“Kiss. Kiss.”

Ah, yes. This deal.
Lips quivering, she tilted her head up, offering herself. He covered her mouth, tongue delving between her lips. She dug her nails into his forearm for balance.

You can do this, Harper.
You’re strong enough to get through this
. But what about a broken heart? Could she get over that?

She went through the motions after the ceremony, all movements mechanical, barely speaking as she exited the church. The morning drizzle had given way to a steady downpour and she raced to the white stretch limo while Isaiah stayed inside to shake hands. She needed at least this time to herself.

As the driver opened the car door, a movement down the street caught her eye. She turned.

Maysin stood in the rain, exposed, watching her.

“Maysin,” she whispered his name and then spoke louder, “Maysin.”

He met her gaze, those green eyes so sad, defeated.

She moved in his direction. Flinging away the bouquet of lilacs, she held out a hand. He shook his head and turned, hurrying away. “Maysin!” She gathered up the wet hem of her dress and ran after him. “Maysin!” If he heard her, and she knew he did, he never turned back,
never.

“Don’t leave me! Maysin. Maysin!” A heel broke. Her ankle twisted and she went down on the wet sidewalk, sobbing, calling his name, but he never slowed. She searched the retreating crowd, but he’d disappeared, taking her heart, her love.

About the Author

A Caribbean transplant, Avril now lives in Brooklyn, N.Y with a Spousal Equivalent of almost eight years. Together they raise a 7 y/o daughter who loves reading and school (wonder how long that will last). Avril’s earliest memories of reading revolve around discussing plot points of The Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys with an equally book-minded mother

Always in love with the written word, Avril finally decided to do the writing in August of ‘09 and never looked back. Spicy love scenes, delicious heroes, and wicked women burn up the pages of Avril’s stories, but there’ll always be a happy ending; Avril remains a believer of love in all its forms.

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