Chapter 69 The Vows (cont.)

Chapter 69 The Vows (cont.)
Ivy’s POV

My heart’s not racing. It’s galloping.

Fucking sprinting in my chest like it’s about to shatter my ribs and leap into his hands.

Alexander’s vow still echoes inside me. Raw. Dark. Beautiful. It didn’t sound like a promise—it sounded like a claim. Like I just signed my soul away with a kiss and a smirk.

And I don’t regret a goddamn second of it.

He’s watching me now. Eyes locked. Breathing steady. Waiting.

There’s always been this thing between us—dangerous, magnetic, like we’re not supposed to exist in the same room, let alone the same bed, same life, same name.

But we do. We always have. And today, I speak it into the world.

“I, Ivy,” I begin, my voice steady—deadly calm, like the pause before a storm, “take you, Alexander…”

I pause, my lips curling at the corners. He raises an eyebrow like he knows what’s coming.

“...not just as my husband,” I continue, stepping forward so there’s no air between us, “but as my master, my obsession, and my very favorite problem.”

Jess lets out a muffled cackle. Alexander doesn’t blink. He just breathes me in like I’m made of sin and salvation.

“You broke me,” I say, my tone dipping low, venom-soft. “You ripped through every part of me I thought was untouchable. You destroyed the girl I used to be—burned her to ash.”

He clenches his jaw. My voice lowers to a whisper:

“And I thank you for it.”

I lean in until our lips nearly brush.

“Because what rose from that ash?” I murmur. “She’s stronger. She’s darker. She’s yours.”

His fingers twitch. He wants to touch me. I don’t let him. Not yet.

“You’re not just my husband,” I say louder, biting back the lump in my throat. “You’re the storm I walked into willingly. You’re the shadow I sleep beside and the weapon I’ll always carry.”

I swallow hard. The air feels thick. Hot.

“And if this world ever tries to take you from me, Alexander? I swear—I’ll be the nightmare they pray never comes.”

His pupils dilate. I step even closer. “But don’t get it twisted,” I whisper, brushing my mouth against his. “You own me, sure. But I own you too. Heart, soul, body… and that filthy mouth you only use on me.”

He growls softly—actual growl—and I feel the vibration deep in my belly.

Jess yells, “I KNEW SHE’D WIN THE VOWS!”

I grin. “So I vow to love you in the dark. I vow to worship you in silence. I vow to burn the world if it ever makes you bleed.”

I lace my fingers through his.

“And when this life ends? I’ll follow you into the next. Because death won’t be enough to keep me from you.”

(Alexander’s POV)

I don’t hear the room anymore. Not the wind rattling the old windows.

Not Jess sniffling behind Ivy like she’s trying not to cry and ruin her mascara.

Not the priest quietly clearing his throat like he’s asking if it’s time for the you-may-now-kiss-the-bride part.

None of it matters.

All I hear— All I feel— Is her vow ringing in my skull like a shot of whiskey poured straight into my bloodstream.

She just promised to burn the world for me. To follow me into death. To own me the way I own her.

And fuck me, I’ve never wanted a woman more in my entire goddamn life.

She looks up at me now. Eyes gleaming like wet ink, fire and softness twisted into one impossible gaze.

“You gonna kiss me or what, husband?” she whispers, the word husband slicing straight through my spine.

I don’t kiss her. I devour her.

One hand fists in her hair, the other clamps around her waist and drags her to me like we haven’t already been joined in body and sin a thousand fucking times.

Her lips crash against mine with a hunger that almost topples us both.

This isn’t a wedding kiss. It’s a war declaration.

A promise that if anyone ever tries to take her from me again, I’ll tear out their throat with my bare hands and smile while I do it.

She moans into my mouth, pressing herself closer, like she wants to climb into my skin.

Jess yells from behind, “JESUS CHRIST GET A ROOM—oh wait, THEY OWN ALL THE ROOMS!”

I flip her off without breaking the kiss.

Ivy laughs against my mouth, and I take the sound like a fucking drug. Like I’ve been sober and starved for years and she’s the first hit I can’t come back from.

We finally break apart, both of us breathless, lips swollen, eyes locked.

Her voice is low, raspy.

“You’re going to ruin me tonight, aren’t you?”

I grin, all teeth and filth. “Sugar, I’m going to ruin you every fucking night.”

(Ivy’s POV)

He says it like a threat. Like a prayer. Like a sin. And I want it all.

He takes my hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing a kiss to my knuckles like we’re in some old mafia movie. But I see the wicked gleam in his eye.

He leans down.

His voice brushes against my ear, soft as silk but rough as gravel.

“You’ve got five minutes to say goodbye to Jess, and I'll dismiss the priest” he murmurs. “After that? I’m carrying you upstairs. And once that bedroom door closes—”

I swallow.

“What happens upstairs?” I ask, just to tease. Just to feel that promise drop into my bloodstream like heat.

His smile darkens into something feral.

“I’m going to rip that dress off piece by piece,” he growls. “And then I’m going to fuck my wife like she still doesn’t have my last name.”

I blink. My knees go weak. My panties? Already fucking done for.

Jess walks up beside us, oblivious—or maybe just immune—to the sexual tension practically dripping off me.

“You done marking each other with your mouths?” she asks dryly. “Because I’ve got champagne and an ugly cake with both your faces on it.”

Alexander grins. “We’ll take one bite. Then I’m taking her upstairs.”

“Jesus. You two are feral,” Jess mutters, but she’s smiling like her heart’s full.

Mine is too. Because I’m not just Ivy anymore.

I’m his Ivy. And this?

This is just the beginning.

To Be Continued…