Marco's POV
Having Lara in our house felt so natural, like she had always belonged here. My parents welcomed her with open arms, and I could see the warmth in their eyes as they spoke to her. It was something they never showed to Serene, which was why I never dared to bring Serene here. My parents would never have accepted her, not even for a moment.
When I held Lara's hand, a strange energy passed between us, something I had never felt before. It was as if every part of me came alive just by touching her. With Serene, things were easy and predictable, but with Lara, everything felt different. There was fire, there was gravity, there was something in her that drew me in no matter how hard I tried to resist.
Serene and I could have made sense on paper. We could have been a good couple in the eyes of everyone else. But there were no sparks, no heartbeat that raced uncontrollably, no sleepless nights wondering if she was thinking about me too. What I felt for Lara Quinn went beyond reason. She was my future bride, and tomorrow, she would finally be mine.
That thought alone kept me awake the entire night. Knowing that she was just a few rooms away made it impossible to rest. Every time I closed my eyes, I imagined her asleep, her hair falling softly over her pillow, her lips curved in that faint smile she wore when she dreamed. I wanted to go to her, but I knew I couldn't. Not yet.
The garden was transformed into something magical that morning. Rows of white chairs faced the grand archway my mother had decorated herself, overflowing with fresh roses and soft ivy. The air smelled of jasmine and the faint perfume of blooming lilies. A soft breeze brushed through the trees, carrying the sound of the quartet playing in the background.
This was my parents' mansion, the place I grew up in, but it had never looked like this before. The sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves, falling in warm streaks across the marble aisle that led straight to the altar. And there I stood, waiting for Lara Quinn. My bride.
The garden was alive with soft murmurs and the gentle rustle of leaves as the morning breeze drifted through. Sunlight filtered through the tall trees, touching the white chairs and the arch of wildflowers that framed the altar. It was a day the pack would remember, not just for its beauty, but for what it represented.
My parents sat proudly near the front, their faces glowing with quiet satisfaction. To them, this wedding was more than a celebration. It was a promise to the pack, a sacred bond that would strengthen our lineage and restore balance to what had been broken.
This union was meant to secure peace among the clans, a duty that had been entrusted to me since the day I was born. I should have felt pride. I should have felt the certainty of leadership. Yet, instead, an unfamiliar weight settled in my chest, heavy, and impossible to shake.
I stood before the altar, every muscle tense beneath my suit, pretending calm while my pulse beat against my ribs. I had spent the night knowing Lara was in the mansion, sleeping under the same roof. The thought alone had stolen my rest. Every soft laugh I heard from her earlier lingered in my head long after midnight had fallen silent.
Now, as the music began, I drew in a steady breath and reminded myself of the truth. This was a contract, an arranged marriage for the good of the pack. And no one knew about it except Lara and me. We needed to look in love in front of everyone, but to me, it was nothing more.
Then she appeared.
Lara stepped out from the veranda, the sunlight catching her veil and wrapping her in gold. Her mother held her arm with quiet pride, while her younger brother followed close behind, clutching her dress as if afraid to let go.
She looked ethereal, her gown gliding over the grass like mist, her every movement calm and unhurried. When the wind lifted the edge of her veil, it revealed her face, soft, luminous, and stronger than I remembered.
My throat tightened and my composure began to slip. Even if Lara was just a human, there was something in her that I could not explain. It was not her beauty alone, though it could have undone any man. It was the quiet fire in her eyes, the way her presence felt both gentle and commanding.
I told myself to look away, to remember my role, to remember hers. But I couldn't. Every step she took down that aisle pulled me deeper into something I could neither name nor control.
When her mother placed her hand in mine, time slowed. Her hand was small and warm, trembling slightly, but steady enough to send a tremor through me. I could feel her pulse beneath my thumb, soft yet sure, echoing the rhythm of my own.
I looked at her, and for one dangerous second, I forgot everything. The duty. The vows. The pack. I saw only her eyes, uncertain yet fearless and I felt something I should not have felt. Something that both terrified and fascinated me.
The minister began to speak, but his voice faded into the wind. The rustle of the trees and the sound of her breathing became all I could hear.
I reminded myself that this ceremony was not for us. It was for them, for the pack, for the clans that needed this peace. She was my wife only in title, a symbol of unity between bloodlines. I was never meant to love her. I was never meant to want her.
But standing there, with her hand in mine and the eyes of our people upon us, I realized how fragile that promise was.
Every time I looked at her, the beast within me stirred. The instinct that recognized her scent, the pulse that quickened in my veins whenever she was near. It was wrong. And in my own rule, it was forbidden. And yet, I could not stop it.
I clenched my jaw and forced myself to stay still. Love was weakness. Desire was distraction. I was the Alpha, and she was the woman fate had bound to me through duty, not destiny.
And yet, when she looked up and gave me that soft, uncertain smile, I felt the walls around my heart begin to crumble.
I told myself, once the ceremony ended, I would keep my distance. But as her fingers tightened around mine and the vows began, I felt the truth pressing against my heart like a secret I could never speak.
Lara stood before me, her hand still resting in mine. Her eyes glowed softly beneath the veil, steady but vulnerable.
The sunlight caught her hair and turned it to gold, and for a moment, even I forgot about the pack, the duty, the promise I had sworn to keep. She was breathtaking, not because of her beauty alone, but because there was something in her that stilled the air around her, something that made me forget everything I was supposed to be.
The officiant continued speaking, his tone gentle, unaware of the tension between us, unaware of how my pulse raced with every word. When he asked if I would take Lara Quinn to be my lawful wedded wife, I hesitated for a breath that felt like forever. The word was simple, but it carried weight far beyond what anyone there could understand.
"I do," I said finally, my voice quiet but firm.
Lara's lips parted, and her answer came soft and trembling. "I do."
The guests murmured, a sound of approval rippling through the garden. My parents sat proudly at the front, their smiles full of expectation. To them, this was history being written. To the officiant, this was a perfect ceremony. But to me, it was a storm I could not control.
He closed the small book in his hands, his voice warm and kind. "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife." He smiled at Lara, then at me, completely unaware of what we truly were beneath the skin. "You may now kiss the bride."
Lara looked up at me, and in that moment, everything else fell away. The sound of the guests, the wind moving through the trees, even the faint music in the background, all of it disappeared. There was only her.
For a heartbeat, I did nothing. I only looked at her, the woman who had turned my life into something I no longer understood. Then I reached out, my hand brushing her cheek. Her skin was soft and warm, her breath catching as I leaned closer.
When our lips met, it was slow and uncertain, like the first taste of something forbidden. It was supposed to be just for show, a gesture for the guests, a symbol to seal the vows. But the moment I felt her tremble beneath my touch, everything changed.
The kiss deepened without meaning to, just enough to make the air around us hum with quiet energy. It was not passionate, not desperate, but real. Her hand rose to my chest, resting over my heart, and I knew she could feel it pounding beneath her palm. I pulled her closer, just slightly, enough for her to know that despite everything I said to myself, something inside me had already begun to surrender.
When I finally drew back, she opened her eyes and smiled. It was small, unsure, and beautiful. The guests clapped politely, the officiant beaming with delight at what he believed was a perfect love story. He had no idea that beneath the surface, the story was much more complicated than anyone could imagine.
As we turned to face the crowd, her hand still in mine, I felt the faint tremor of her fingers and the warmth of her touch. The garden erupted in cheers, flowers shimmered in the sunlight, and the air carried a sweetness that felt almost unreal.
But even amid the joy and applause, I could not escape the truth.
This marriage was meant to protect the pack. It was built on duty, not desire. Yet as I stood there beside Lara, feeling her hand tighten gently around mine, I knew I was already losing the battle I swore to win.
For the first time since this union began, I found myself wishing it was real.