GRAY
Willow sat on the edge of the bed, her hands on her knees as she stared toward the window at the edge of the room. She wanted to
be out with nature, with the part of her that felt familiar in the chaos of what she was becoming. I unzipped the garment bag, watching as Willow rolled her eyes and stood to look at the dress I’d brought her. She wasn’t typically overly concerned with dressing for anyone but herself and her own taste, and I could guess from the state of her mother’s home and the reality of what her father had done to her life that she hadn’t had much cause for formal celebrations.
But as the garment bag parted and allowed for the black fabrics to appear, she rose to her feet and came to get a closer look. The tulle skirt had sporadic vines and flowers falling from the waistline where it would drape over her legs—except for the slit that went high up the thigh and would let her move freely if needed. The torso was corseted and covered in silk and lace that reminded me of the lattice ironwork of the Tribunal doors. With a sweetheart neckline, delicate fabric vines looped over one of her shoulders.
She touched a gentle finger to the vines, her matte black polish a perfect complement to the gown that had been made for her.
“Where exactly are we going?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
“The Tribunal rooms,” I said, going to the dresser where I’d had some of the staff move her clothing. I grabbed a black lace thong, taking a knee in front of her.
She was still nude, not having bothered to dress after I’d had my way with her. I’d tugged on a pair of boxer briefs when I stood to get her dress, but I loved that Willow owned her sexuality. Her body was perfect as it was, everything I could have wanted in my wife, and it pleased me that she was comfortable in it.
“You do realize most men take a knee when they propose, not after they’ve manipulated a woman into marriage, yes?” she asked as I smirked up at her. I wrapped a hand around the back of her calf, lifting it toward me so she could balance. Where others might have stumbled from the change in stability, Willow didn’t so much as shift as her other leg took over. Slipping her foot into the thong, I repeated the process with the other leg and then rose in front of her as I glided the fabric up her strong thighs and settled it into place.
Cupping her cheeks in both hands, I ran my thumbs over the apples of her cheekbones and watched her eyes flare to life. More than just filling with her and with the challenge that always came from my physical ownership of her, the magic within her recognized its previous owner and brightened for me.
Her naturally unique eyes lit with the glow of magic, the gold in one of hers so similar to mine that it took my breath away—a symbol of the way our fates had been linked since the moment Charlotte and I struck our bargain. I’d never expected to find so much comfort in the fact that I’d never really had a choice.
I didn’t like not being in control of every aspect of my life and my home, except for Willow Morningstar. She was the exception to every rule I’d ever made for myself and my kind.
“And what are we doing in the Tribunal rooms that would require a gown like that?” she asked, swallowing through the touch and the discomfort she felt. She thought I didn’t see every nervous tick—even though she seemed determined to convince me she was on her way to forgiving me.
Whatever purpose that served for Willow, I’d allow it. If she faked it for long enough, eventually she wouldn’t be able to see through her own lies and they would become her new reality.
“We are settling the disputes among the witches by announcing the Covenant’s replacement,” I said, stepping away from her and pointedly
ignoring her sigh. She would have merely argued it was of relief, but we both knew it was because she regretted the lack of touch as much as I did.
“Who?” she asked, sauntering to the bench and lifting the dress from the bag. She unzipped the corset, stepping into the dress and turning to give me her back. She was many things, although she would never forgo her responsibility to her Coven. No matter what she might have convinced herself she was here to do, she felt the urge to repair what she had played a role in breaking.
I raised my brow at her, smirking as she fought to find the zipper. Guiding her to the mirror in the corner, I brushed her hair over one shoulder. Wrapping that hand around her and pressing it to her stomach, I used my free hand to zip the corset for her. It glided up like butter, fitting her perfectly and hugging every one of her curves in the way I’d known it would. “There’s only one witch fit for the job.”
“The Tribunal will never accept me as Covenant,” she argued, shaking her head as if I was ridiculous. “If you’re hoping to quiet the fights, this isn’t how to do it.”
I stepped away from her, moving to the top drawer of the dresser and the jewelry boxes I’d stashed there. Willow reached into the intricate vine details crossing her chest, pulling her mother’s amulet and her bone necklace free so that they draped over the fabric, appearing menacing compared to the delicate nature of the dress.
Her mother’s amulet hung low, and I knew that even though it no longer served a purpose and did nothing to protect her, she would wear it for the rest of her life. The bones protected her from compulsion by nature now that she’d claimed them as hers.
She touched the bones with a grimace, desperately wishing there was a way for her to wear them the same way all her ancestors had, in a pouch at her waist rather than draped at her throat. I reached a hand toward her, drawing my finger over the bones in a gentle path that curved over her collarbone. I liked seeing the macabre reminder of just how gruesome her power could be if she accepted it. However, I also liked the sight of her chest bare without anything hindering my view.
The bones clattered, releasing from around her throat with my touch. Guiding them to her waist, I watched as they settled across her hips like a low-slung chain, draping over her gently and accentuating the curve of her body.
Willow touched her chest and neck, splaying her fingers over her skin. Her relief hung between us as she shifted her weight, the bones rattling against one another. “And who from the Tribunal would you be willing to have take your place?” I asked, setting the jewelry boxes on the bed. I opened the first one while she gawked at it, watching me warily as I settled the gold choker around her neck. It was structured, draping over the front of her throat without ever connecting and lingering between the sides of her mother’s wire chain. I accompanied it with the matching gold earrings I’d bought her, threading them through her ears while she glared at me.
She didn’t appreciate my gifts despite my intention to court her.
“That’s not fair,” she said finally, unable to come up with an adequate solution to my question.
“That’s because they were all aware of the previous Covenant’s intentions for this Coven, and you know as well as I do that you would never give one of them your support,” I said, dropping the earring box to the bed.
I grasped the final box, ignoring Willow’s gasp. The rings in the box were the perfect culmination of everything that made her the witchling she’d become, a gold band carved into the details of vines and leaves. The center stone was moss agate in place of a traditional diamond, but the meaning of that and the simple matching band of golden vines beneath it far outweighed tradition.
“Gray,” she said, shaking her head as I reached for her left hand.
I smiled as I took it, holding her still as I slid the rings onto her ring finger. “You said you weren’t a demon, and our marriage traditions aren’t yours,” I said, admitting to the truth and using her own words against her. “I intend to marry you in every tradition, Witchling. You’ll wear my rings, and as soon as we are able, you will summon the Goddess. And then we will seek her approval for our union.”
“Why would she ever agree to this marriage? The goddess claims the witches you abandoned,” she argued.
I scoffed, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. She looked up at me, finally tearing her eyes away from the rings I’d placed on her finger. Another mark of my ownership of her. Reaching into my pocket, I removed the single golden band and slid it onto my own, marking myself the same as her. “Where does the Coven teach you their Goddess has come from?” I asked, watching as everything in Willow froze.
“She is the personification of nature itself. She represents the balance,” Willow argued, the ignorance of what I allowed as teachings showing in every word. Even if she hadn’t been in the Coven to learn, her mother had relayed the message.
I grinned at her shock, straightening her necklace as she stared up at me. “She represents me,” I said, pausing to see if she had any response. Her mouth tensed into a line, revealing her frustration that I’d been playing the chess game before the Coven even realized one existed. “Because your goddess is my sister.”
