"Let's go in before your mother comes out screaming," Suzette said, her tone playful but urgent.
Novaria nudged Zion gently, and together they made their way into the cathedral.
The wedding was really over.
Novaria let out a quiet, relieved sigh. For the first time in a while, she felt a weight lift from her shoulders. She wouldn't be tormented by either of them anymore. All that remained now was to survive the wedding party.
Zion scanned the hall, his gaze drifting over the guests dressed in elegant dresses and vibrant colors. Aside from the stunning attire and lively chatter, there was little to indicate that a wedding had just concluded.
That is, until his eyes locked onto a very familiar figure.
Standing in a long, flowing white dress, Zion's breath caught. For a fleeting moment, he thought Novaria had slipped from his grasp, dyed her hair, changed into a wedding gown, and was now in the arms of a seemingly elated man dressed in a black tuxedo.
But as their eyes met, Zion realized it wasn't Novaria.
First, because her grip on his hand tightened as they watched the woman approach. Second, because her gaze was different—less innocent, more calculating. Her eyes shimmered with greed and malice, a stark contrast to Novaria's familiar, softer expression.
"Hold me, please," Novaria whispered, her voice trembling with vulnerability.
Zion's gaze fixed on hers, the desperation and urgency in her eyes piercing through him. Her lips quivered, her body trembling with raw emotion.
'Just how much did they hurt you?' he silently wondered, aching to ask. Instead, he gently curved his left arm around her waist, offering what little comfort he could. Now that he was close, he resolved to give her all the support he could muster, to ease her pain before Gunther's reckless ideas took hold.
A spark ignited between them, like lightning crackling through the air—electric currents passing from one soul to the other. Their eyes remained locked, conveying unspoken words.
Zion's knees felt weak, and his gaze drifted downward to her lips. They were parted slightly, trembling. His heart pounded fiercely, yearning to press his lips to hers, to claim that moment fully. He longed to reach out, to cup the back of her neck and kiss away her anxiety, to offer her refuge in that silent, shared connection.
Novaria had never experienced anything like this before. The intensity in Zion's gaze, his eyes flickering across her face as if searching for a hidden truth, made her heart race. The warmth of his arms around her waist felt grounding, his hold both secure and comforting. A part of her ached to lean into that feeling—to feel protected, to feel loved.
Love. It had been so long since she had truly felt it.
Suddenly, Navira's voice broke through the moment, bright and cheerful. "Nova!" she exclaimed, her smile wry as she opened her arms wide for an embrace.
Novaria hesitated for a brief moment before shrugging gently. She kept her eyes fixed on her sister as Navira closed the distance and wrapped her arms around her in a warm hug.
"I am so happy to see you! Hunter felt that you wouldn't be coming, and it completely disheartened me. I had already told mother I wouldn't want to carry on without you, but she insisted. You have no idea how much your presence means to me." Her words sounded heartfelt, but Novaria sensed the underlying tension, the false brightness behind her sister's smile. Another hug followed, tight and a little desperate.
Novaria forced a soft smile, masking the turmoil inside her.
"You know," Navira continued, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "everyone thought you'd be so jealous you couldn't stand me wearing a dress that should have been yours. We all know how much you loved Jonah, and I'm so sorry you found out the way you did. But everyone believes that Jonah and I are meant to be together."
'Somebody, please stop her,' Novaria silently begged within her mind.
Sensing her inner struggle, Zion's grip around her waist tightened, pulling her closer to him, offering silent support amidst the chaos of her thoughts.
Navira's eyes drifted to where Zion's hands rested on Novaria's waist before flicking up to meet his gaze. Her expression shifted subtly—curious, perhaps a touch wary—as she observed the quiet yet intense exchange between them.
Zion found himself questioning his own motives. Why was he compelled to shield her from her sister's malicious eyes and sharp tongue? Why did a surge of fierce protectiveness rise within him, making him want to tear Navira's words apart? When he sensed Novaria growing numb against his hold, a swell of anger ignited within him.
He knew he had to act quickly. Glancing at Novaria, he saw her vulnerability, her inability to respond or defend herself. In that moment, an instinctive resolve grew—he would do what he had come to do: protect her. The thought of her as his mate echoed in his mind, a warning and a promise wrapped into one. He dismissed it for now, focusing instead on the present.
"Ria is much stronger than anyone could think," Zion said softly, his voice carrying a mixture of admiration and resolve. "I insisted that she doesn't need to come to this event. But Ria wanted to see you happy. And so, I brought her here—against my own will." His words concluded with a gentle kiss on Novaria's forehead, a small act of reassurance.
Deep inside, Zion wrestled with guilt. Why was he doing so much? Why was he pushing himself so hard, despite trying to appear unaffected?
Navira, feeling the tension, managed a nervous laugh and looked back at her sister. "I'm glad you came, regardless," she said softly, her eyes narrowing slightly at Zion, a flicker of suspicion or perhaps challenge.
Zion responded by pulling Novaria closer, his gaze darkening as he shot Navira a warning glare that almost caused her to stumble back, caught off guard by his fierce protectiveness.
"Yes. Of course," Novaria murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as a blush crept over her cheeks, warming her face from Zion's words.
Navira leaned in, her voice soft and almost conspiratorial. "This dress should have been yours," she whispered before offering a small, smug smile and turning away.
Novaria was stunned. The weight of her emotions suddenly overwhelmed her, and she felt tears prick at her eyelids. She quickly coughed, fighting back the rising tide of emotion. She wouldn't cry—not here, not now. She had thought she was ready to face Navira, to confront whatever feelings and memories might surface. But hearing her sister's words, her smile, it was clear she wasn't prepared at all.
If Zion hadn't been there—if he hadn't been holding her, grounding her—she might have stormed out of the hall in tears, overwhelmed and vulnerable.
A small, genuine smile curled onto her lips, and her thoughts drifted to him—his name, Zion. For someone who had initially just been here to settle the damages his driver caused to her car, he was doing an incredible job of making her feel seen, protected, and maybe even a little understood.
Suzette returned to their group after Navira had walked away, her brow furrowed with concern as her gaze settled on Novaria. She stepped closer, instinctively sensing that something was off.
"She's flustered. Take her to have a drink," Zion said sharply, his voice tinged with anger that hadn't quite subsided after witnessing the earlier scene. His protective instincts were clearly still burning.
Gunther was also feeling a surge of fierce protectiveness towards Novaria—something entirely new and unfamiliar to him. The situation was happening too fast, overwhelming even his seasoned senses. He had never believed in the concept of a mate before, but he'd read extensively about the bond. Now, faced with the possibility that this woman might be his, everything inside him was stirring—conflicting feelings of duty, desire, and fierce protectiveness.
He clenched his fists, resisting the urge to lash out at Navira or anyone else who threatened Novaria's peace. The mere thought of her crying and his own rising anger made him want to tear the hall apart.
He realized he needed space—air, space to calm himself. If he stayed too long in this charged atmosphere, he might lose control and do something he'd regret. Without a word, he turned away abruptly, heading outside to get some fresh air—desperately seeking to clear his mind before he did something reckless.
Suzette nodded silently, her expression soft with understanding. She reached out with both hands and gently pulled Novaria away from Zion's grasp, guiding her through the crowd.
Just as Zion turned to face away, he felt a subtle pressure around his wrist. His heartbeat quickened at the contact. When he looked back, her smile was quiet and knowing, a small but powerful gesture that spoke volumes.
"Thank you," she mouthed, her lips forming the words so softly he almost missed them amid the chaos of voices swirling in his mind.
He watched her retreating figure, feeling an unexpected emptiness swell within him, as if a vital part of him had been taken away. The more she walked away, the heavier his chest felt, like gravity itself was pulling his heart downward.
Desperately, he shook his head, trying to clear the fog of emotion. Maybe if he could just shake it loose enough, think straight again. His eyes flicked to Navira, a scowl darkening his face. Without a word, he turned and stormed out of the hall, determination burning in his eyes.
He knew he'd encounter her again at the wedding party. And when he did, he intended to put an end to this chaos—that living circus in his mind—once and for all.