This was the third time Roxy had walked down an aisle.
Technically, she wasn't walking. She was gliding. And technically, the "aisle" was a current of warm, scented water flowing between rows of jagged pews filled with apex predators in formal wear.
But the feeling in her stomach was the same. That heavy, stone-cold weight of finality.
The first time, with her two ex-husbands, she had been terrified, overwhelmed by a world she didn't understand. She had walked on trembling human legs, holding a bouquet of wildflowers, toward her husband hoping that they would love you like a man would.
This time, she had no legs. She looked ahead.
Waiting for her at the Altar of Shells was Caspian.
He looked... breathtaking. There was no other word for it. He wore ceremonial armor made of white gold and pearl, leaving his scarred, muscular chest bare. His silver hair floated in the water like a halo. His indigo tail was polished to a mirror shine.
He was looking only at Roxy.
