Chapter 8 Vows in the Garden
The string quartet shifted into Pachelbel’s Canon, and the garden fell into a hush that felt almost sacred. Maddie stood at the end of the white silk runner, her arm looped through her mother’s surprisingly steady one. Lily walked ahead as maid of honor, Clara and Sophia behind her in soft champagne dresses. Every seat was filled with strangers in designer clothes, their faces politely curious. Cameras flashed. Phones rose.
And at the end of the aisle, beneath an arch dripping with white roses and jasmine, stood Ben, blond, polished, smiling the perfect groom smile.
But Maddie’s gaze slid past him.
Alexander stood just to Ben’s left, the best man position he’d apparently accepted without anyone thinking it strange. In a black tuxedo cut so perfectly it looked painted on, he was devastatingly handsome. The late-afternoon sun caught the sharp angles of his face, the controlled power in his shoulders, the faint scar that ran through one dark brow. His hands were clasped behind his back, posture impeccable, but his eyes…
His eyes never left her.
Storm-gray and burning.
The walk down the aisle felt endless. Every step brought her closer to Ben, but it was Alexander’s stare that pinned her in place, hot and unrelenting. She couldn’t read it, rage, possession, pain, longing, all of it tangled together. Her pulse hammered so loudly she was sure the guests could hear it.
When her mother placed her hand in Ben’s, Alexander’s jaw flexed, a muscle ticking violently. Ben’s fingers were cool, almost clinical. Alexander’s gaze dropped to their joined hands, and for a heartbeat the garden seemed to hold its breath.
The officiant began. Words about love, commitment, partnership floated past Maddie like smoke. She repeated what she was told, her voice steady only because she’d practiced it in the mirror a hundred times. Ben’s “I do” was crisp, confident. When it was her turn, she felt Alexander’s stare like a physical touch on the back of her neck.
“I do,” she said, and the lie tasted like ash.
“You may kiss the bride.”
Ben leaned in, the kiss brief, theatrical, perfectly timed for the photographers. Polite applause rippled through the guests. Maddie’s lips tingled, not from Ben, but from the memory of Alexander’s mouth on hers that night in the hotel.
The reception unfolded in a whirl of champagne and forced smiles. Maddie moved through it on autopilot, cutting the cake, first dancing with Ben under a canopy of fairy lights, tossing the bouquet. Clara caught it and immediately looked horrified. Every moment, she felt him watching.
Alexander never approached the dance floor. He stood at the edge of the crowd, a glass of something dark in his hand, eyes tracking her like a predator deciding whether to close the distance. Once, when Ben spun her too enthusiastically and her skirt flared, Alexander’s knuckles went white around his glass.
At one point she escaped to a quiet corner of the garden to breathe. The air was cool, scented with night-blooming jasmine. She pressed her back to a stone pillar, closing her eyes.
“You’re killing me in that dress, little wolf.”
The voice came from the shadows to her left. She startled, heart leaping into her throat. Alexander stepped into the moonlight, devastating in the half-light, tie loosened, jacket gone. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing powerful forearms corded with tension.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered, glancing around. Guests laughed somewhere nearby.
“I’ve been here all day,” he said, voice low and rough. “Watching another man put his ring on your finger. Watching him kiss you.” He took a step closer. “Do you have any idea what that did to me?”
“Alexander…”
“I almost shifted in front of five hundred people when you said ‘I do.’” Another step. He was close enough now that she could smell pine and whiskey and the unique heat that was only him. “My wolf is clawing at my skin, Maddie. He wants his mate.”
Her breath hitched. “This isn’t the time…”
“There will never be a good time,” he growled. “Not as long as you’re wearing his ring.”
He reached out, thumb brushing the corner of her mouth where Ben’s kiss had been. The touch seared. Maddie’s knees weakened.
“Please,” she breathed,she wasn’t sure if she was begging him to stop or to keep going.
Alexander’s eyes dropped to her lips, then lower, lingering on the way the dress hugged her body. “I need to taste you again,” he said, voice ragged. “Just once. To survive tonight.”
He leaned in, but footsteps approached. Clara called her name for more photos. Alexander melted back into the shadows as if he’d never been there, leaving Maddie trembling and aching.
The rest of the reception passed in flashes: toasts, laughter, Ben’s hand possessive on her lower back. But every time she looked up, Alexander was watching. Always watching.