longer. For a few moments, he hummed to her, willing her to calm and accept. Tenderheartedly he advised, “Then don't fear what's done. You're loved and cherished beyond any girlish dream, fantasy or fairytale. It's time to reenter the realm of womanhood and take your rightful place within this commingled clan. Shillyshallying about mechanics of the union won't do any good. Trust that you'll be well taken care of. You loved coupling before, were mind-blowing at everything you did. This uniting of bodies will be better, fulfilling your every desire. Now turn around honey, your dress needs to be undone.”
Carolina knew from his tone that the discussion was over, so on rubbery limbs she did as she was commanded and when she completed her pivot, she stood looking slightly up into smiling brown eyes with glowing embers already alight in their depths. “Hi, sweet Gingernut,” Patrick greeted her adoringly.
Her eyes grew wide, lips silently forming his name. She shook her head trying to chase away the illusion and when he remained, reaching out to caress her cheek she recalled the day in its entirety, especially the trio of deities performing the ceremony making what she thought had been the same error, 'Dylan Patrick Donovan Savage'. There had been two grooms in attendance, each saying their vows once to her but she'd had to accept thrice, once to each man and then to the union itself, having the ultimate power to put an end to the proceedings at anytime. She looked down at the wedding band upon her finger, a warm, wide braid of lightning struck silver and galactic gold that she wouldn't have the ability to remove since the metals somehow fused with her spirit and only would her husbands, in unison, ever be able to take the symbol of sempiternal unity from her hand. He and Dylan had each kissed her when she'd been pronounced their wife and from that point on she'd been paraded in front of elders and parents of both her husbands, had even spent time with her old fay family. However, a great amount of her time had been spent with the matrons, who'd instructed her on the expectations of her wedding night. Remembered lessons that now, as before, made her swallow nervously and she exclaimed, “'Tis not right of me to have-” The feel of Dylan pulling the dress zipper methodically down halted her words. His lips, touching the side of her neck, had her leaning back against the hardness