wedding dress on the floor

The grand hall was silent, the air thick with the weight of unspoken truths. The scent of roses and aged wine filled the space, but neither Sirena nor Damian paid it any mind. This was a performance, a ceremony meant to bind them together in the eyes of the world—but beneath the polished surface, something darker simmered.

As Serena walked down the aisle, her steps steady and measured, a strange feeling settled in Damian's chest. A whisper of familiarity, a déjà vu that he couldn't place. His breath hitched the moment she came fully into view.

She was breathtaking.

Her crimson gown clung to her frame like liquid fire, the deep red a stark contrast to her porcelain skin. Her hair, cascading like waves of flame, shimmered under the light, framing her face in a way that was almost otherworldly. But it was her eyes—those piercing green irises—that drew him in. Cold. Guarded. Unreadable.

She was the only woman he had never been able to decipher, and it unsettled him.

Serena's gaze locked onto Damian, noting the rigid line of his shoulders, the way his face remained emotionless, unreadable. If one didn't know better, they'd think they were walking toward their execution rather than their wedding.

How fitting.

Damian was striking in his own way—no, beautiful was a more accurate word. Serena had met countless men, creatures, beings beyond human comprehension, yet none had ever held the kind of effortless allure that Damian did. His cold, gray eyes were like storm clouds, deep and unreadable, framed by lashes unfairly long for a man. Broad shoulders, towering height—he was the embodiment of restrained power.

As she finally reached him, his hand closed around hers. A shiver ran down her spine.

She had never felt this before.

Perhaps it was because she had never truly held someone's hand.

Damian felt it too—the unnatural heat of her skin, the quiet intensity in her grip. For a brief second, something flickered between them. Then, it was gone.

The priest's voice was distant, a mere murmur compared to the thoughts racing through their heads. Words of unity, of commitment, of forever. None of it mattered.

And then—

"You may now kiss the bride."

A pause.

Serena's breath caught. She hesitated, her mind racing. It wasn't that she had never kissed anyone—she had—but kissing had always felt too intimate. Too much like a promise. And she had never kissed anyone wholeheartedly.

Damian's gaze remained unreadable, but he was waiting.

For once, the siren who could lure anyone with a single note found herself unsure.

Then, with a slow inhale, she made her decision.

She tilted her chin up, meeting him halfway.

Their lips met—light, fleeting, but electric. A kiss that held no love, no affection, yet carried something neither of them dared name.

When they pulled apart, the crowd erupted into applause.

Serena barely heard them.

Damian's grip tightened around her hand.

Neither smiled.

To the world, they were husband and wife.

But to each other, they were nothing but a means to an end for their families.

____________________

Champagne flowed freely, crystal glasses clinking as guests mingled and celebrated. Laughter filled the air, and couples swayed on the dance floor, lost in their own romantic fantasies.

But the bride and groom remained seated, detached from the festivities. Observers rather than participants.

Until a voice cut through the air—

"The bride and groom must have their first dance!"

The words were met with excited murmurs, and before either of them could protest, they were being ushered toward the dance floor.

Serena's lips curved into a slow smirk as she turned to Damian. "You don't dance, do you?"

Damian arched a brow. "And you do?"

Serena shrugged, tilting her head in challenge. "Enough to know you'd be a terrible partner."

Damian stepped closer, his voice dropping low. "Careful, Serena. The dance I have in mind might set your body on fire."

A glint of mischief flashed in her eyes. "I'd like to see you try."

Instead of the slow, romantic waltz the guests had expected, the music shifted into something sharper—sultry and dangerous. The crowd murmured in surprise as the first notes of a tango filled the air.

Serena's breath caught, her pulse quickening.

Damian smirked. Let's see how well you can keep up, wife

The moment he pulled her flush against him, the air between them crackled. The tango was not a dance of love—it was a battle. A taunt. A game of control.

Serena met his lead with equal defiance, her movements sharp yet fluid, her body pressing against his before pulling away like a siren luring a sailor into deep waters. Damian matched her step for step, his grip firm, his hold possessive.

As they moved, the space between them vanished. Their breaths mingled, their lips a breath apart.

Serena's fingers brushed along his chest, trailing teasingly as she arched back in a slow dip. Damian's grip on her waist tightened, his lips grazing the shell of her ear as he whispered, "Is that all you've got?"

Serena's smile was wicked as she snapped back up, pressing closer than before. "You tell me, husband."

Their bodies twisted together, legs tangling, heat radiating between them. With each sharp turn, each precise movement, the tension coiled tighter.

And then—

Damian spun her suddenly, catching her off guard. His palm pressed firmly against the small of her back, forcing her against him as he dipped her again. Their lips hovered mere inches apart.

A challenge. A dare.

Serena's green eyes flickered to his lips before meeting his gaze again. She could close the distance. Just an inch more, and they would—

Damian smirked.

And pulled back.

The space between them was nonexistent, yet he had left her waiting. Teasing her the way she had teased him.

Serena's exhaled a sharp breath, her pulse thrumming. Bastard.

But she wasn't about to let him win.

As the music built to its climax, she twisted in his hold, her hands trailing along his shoulders before her fingers curled into the nape of his neck. Damian inhaled, his pupils darkening as she brought her lips to his ear and whispered, "Careful, husband. I bite."

With one final snap of her hips against his, the dance ended.

A heartbeat of silence.

And then thunderous applause.

Serena smirked, stepping back, her chest rising and falling.

Damian's tongue flicked over his teeth.

For the first time that night neither of them was thinking about wedding, their families or their future

For just a moment caught on the fire of the dance ,they had only thought of each other.