Chapter 6 The Wrong Bride
RAVIAL
She said it wrong again.
The words stumbled out of her mouth, tangled between apology and fear, and for a moment, I almost laughed. Almost.
The real Avery would never have said that. Never stuttered. Never dropped her words like that.
But this one… this trembling thing beside me… she was trying.
I could feel the air shift each time she breathed. Hear the way her pulse jumped when she spoke. I didn’t need eyes to see her, her fear painted the air for me in perfect detail.
“Sorry… I no mean for look.”
There it was again. The accent. Soft. Unpolished. Beautifully wrong.
If she only knew how loud her thoughts were to me.
The car hummed beneath us, the driver silent. Outside, rain whispered against the windows. Inside, it was just her heartbeat and the sound of my phone still glowing in my hand.
I didn’t speak. Not yet. Humans panic beautifully when you give them silence.
Her scent drifted faintly, salt and something wild, untouched. Not perfume. Not fear. Something older. Something real.
Not Avery.
They thought they fooled me. Her parents, standing in their glass palace, so sure of their deceit. They thought I’d never seen the girl I was promised. That I’d married my little star blindfolded, literally and otherwise.
But I’ve always seen everything.
Avery Hayes, the real one was cold, a brat, dull light hidden behind practiced smiles. I’d watched her from the moment she first touched sunlight. She never glowed again after that.
But this one, when she walked toward me down the aisle, she shone. Faint, trembling, but unmistakable. The light of something divine trying to hide in human skin.
That was when I knew.
And now she sat beside me, apologizing for breathing too close. For being curious.
If only she knew who she was apologizing to.
I turned my head slightly, letting her think I was still blind behind the cloth. My lips brushed the faintest smile. “You didn’t mean to look?” I said quietly. “Then what did you mean to do, Mrs. Ashbourne?”
She stiffened beside me, her breath catching, her fingers twisting against her dress again. I didn’t need sight to see it even though I could, her fear painted every detail.
I leaned back, resting my head against the seat. “Next time,” I said softly, “if you’re going to lie… do it better.”
The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut.
And through it all, I could still hear it, her heart, trembling like the wings of a small bird trying not to be caught.
She stammered, her voice barely there. “Mi… mi no wan make trouble. Please.”
Her hair slipped over her face as she spoke, hiding her eyes. Before I could stop myself, I reached out and brushed it away.
The moment my skin touched her cheek—something sparked.
A small, sharp jolt. Like lightning under the skin.
She froze. So did I.
For a heartbeat, I just stared at her. Her skin was warm, too warm and her eyes lifted to meet mine, wide and unsure. She looked terrified… and yet, something inside her glowed.
Something I hadn’t felt in centuries.
I pulled my hand back slowly, my fingers tingling as if I’d touched fire. What the hell was that?
Her lips parted, but no words came out. I looked away first, turning my hand over as if the answer would be written there. Nothing. Just skin. Just silence.
But that pulse… it still echoed through me.
She was watching me, confused, maybe even scared. Good. Let her be. I didn’t say a word. I just leaned back, resting my arm on the seat, pretending none of it happened.
The rest of the drive passed in silence. Only the rain filled the space between us.
An hour later, the car slowed.
Through the window, the world opened wide, miles of dark land rolling under gray skies. My villa stretched across it like a kingdom of glass and stone. Acres of land, stables in the distance, the scent of rain and horses heavy in the air.
The main building rose ahead, tall, sharp-edged, cold. Lights glowed behind tall windows, and a dozen servants waited by the entrance as the gates opened.
The car stopped. I turned my head slightly—she’d fallen asleep. Her head rested against the glass, lips parted, lashes trembling with every breath.
Something twisted in my chest. I ignored it.
I opened my door. Rain brushed my face.
“Take her up,” I said flatly.
The guard waiting nearby nodded instantly and moved to the other side. When he opened the door, he froze for a second, careful not to wake her, as if afraid she’d break just from his touch.
Good. He should be afraid.
He lifted her gently from the seat, her body limp in his arms. One wrong move, one slip, and he’d never draw breath again.
I stood under the archway as they carried her inside, her white dress catching the faint light. The servants lowered their heads as I passed.
“Prepare the main suite,” I said, my voice calm but heavy enough to make them flinch.
And as I walked into the house, the scent of her still on my hand, I realized something dangerous.
Whatever spark lived inside her wasn’t supposed to be. It burned too bright, too pure.
And for the first time, I couldn’t tell if she was heaven-sent… or something heaven had cast out.
The rain had softened into mist by the time I stepped through the archway.
The Ashbourne Villa sat deep in the Connecticut countryside, far from the noise of New York. Acres of land stretched around it—wet grass, dark trees, and the faint sound of horses somewhere in the distance. The place was quiet, cold, and far too big for one person.
Inside, warm light flickered off marble floors. The servants stood still as the guard carried her up the wide staircase toward the main suite. I didn’t follow. I turned down the right hall instead, heading for my study.
The room was dim. Books covered the walls, and the fire burned low in the corner. I sat at the desk, staring at my hand, the same one that
had touched her. It still tingled.
I think this was the beginning of something….my lips lifted in a smirk.