Was that…? Was he…?
Oh shit. He was. He had to be. He was standing at the front of the church.
It was The Dragon.
It was my groom.
And I got his name. I totally got it with the way he was glowering at me like he most assuredly did not like me, he also did not want to be there and further, what he did want to be doing was slaughtering entire villages either with weapons or, perhaps, breathing fire at them and setting them alight.
He was massive. I was five six. He had to be six three or six four. His hair was very dark, very thick with bit of wave and it curled around the turtleneck of his sweater that was a dark brown so dark it was nearly black. He did not wear weird leather shorts but wool breeches that fit him snug and did not come near to hiding the power of his massive, muscular thighs. The same could be said for his sweater which did not hide the breadth and brawn of his shoulders. He had on boots that went to just below his knees and I saw that he didn’t bother shining them for his nuptials. They were smudged and even had dirt and mud on them. There was a leather band slanting across his chest, under his ribs at one side, over his shoulder at the other but there were no gold, rubies or anything on his. I saw the fall of a cloak, this one not a lustrous fur pelt like Dad’s but a simple hide.
I could also see the hilt of a sword over his shoulder behind where the band was and knives on either side of a leather belt at his waist.
His features were tan, sharp, strong and prominent. Heavy brow, jutting square jaw, carved cheekbones, full lips with tons of ridges in them. If his look wasn’t so dark and extremely pissed off, he’d be hot.
He was not.
He was freaking scary. The bulk of him, the intensity of angry energy he exuded which I could feel pressing against my skin, the murderous look in his eyes.
Scary.
No, terrifying from top-to-toe.
And this was saying something, coming from me, Seoafin Wilde, a woman who did not get scared easily.
But no matter how frightening he was, I could not tear my gaze from him so as we cleared the front of the church, I didn’t.
And I saw his eyes were a weird shade of light olive green, not green or brown or hazel but light olive green surrounded by a mass of dark, curling lashes.
As I got closer and then we stopped a few feet from him, I noticed instantly he dwarfed me not only in height but in build. He was two of me, at least.
Oh God.
This was not good.
The man in white robes said something I didn’t understand not because I was freaking out but because it was in a weird language and the man known as The Dragon tore his furious, brown-green gaze from me and looked at him then he lifted a fist.
My torso swayed back as the massive thing sliced through the air.
Dad clutched me tighter then forced me forward so I was standing beside The Dragon as he pried my fingers from his elbow and lifted my hand, curling my frozen fingers over The Dragon’s fist and holding them there.
God, my fingers got nowhere near covering his mighty fist.
The music stopped.
Oh shit.
The man in robes said something and my Dad replied with a loud, authoritative, “Yes!” his fingers squeezed mine then he was gone.
Gone!
Just like that.
Oh shit!
Without any ado, the man in robes tipped his head to the ceiling and started babbling in a foreign language that was nothing like anything I’d ever heard before. And I’d heard a lot of foreign tongues and knew my way around a few of them.
Crap.