Devil’s Captive by Celia Aaron EPUB & PDF – eBook Details
- Author: Celia Aaron
- Language: English
- Formats: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Series: None
- Price: Free
- File Size: 1 MB
A white dress. A full cathedral. Hundreds of people turning to stare at the
bride. At me.
My stomach churns, bile rising at the back of my throat as I force my feet
to carry me forward. My father holds my arm in a death grip as my mother
watches me with thin lips and narrowed eyes from the front row.
I won’t run, no matter how badly I want to. There’s nowhere for me to
go. Nowhere that could shelter me from the hell I’d unleash if I tried to
escape this narrow path to damnation.
This wasn’t supposed to be my fate. I was free of my family’s grasp. I’d
finally made it out into the wide world beyond the confines of my last name.
Until I was pulled back in, forced into the role I’d tried so hard to avoid.
I’m walking back into it right now, one crystal-encrusted heel after
another, crushing the white rose petals that were hastily thrown down by a
distant cousin with her hair in ringlets and a skip in her step, one who will
likely someday meet my same fate: a forced marriage for political and
The acid in my stomach tries to force its way into my mouth and onto the
bruised petals. I swallow it back, barely.
I sway when I get halfway, the entire cathedral crawling with black dots.
No, it’s my veil—like dozens of ants on the white fabric, ready to sting and
bite. My mother’s lips somehow grow even thinner, her disapproval eating
through me. I have to keep moving.
This is it. This is the end of what was supposed to be my life. Now it will
belong to someone else.
“He won’t hurt you,” my father whispers over the drone of the organ and
pulls my arm even tighter, making my shoulder ache from the pressure. “He
gave me his word.”
My heart pounds so loudly I’m surprised no one else can hear it. It’s like
a drum in my ears, a funeral dirge of incessant percussion that beats
discordantly against the light melody floating through the cathedral.
When I let my gaze rise, I find my intended. Horatio Manchello. He’s
young, his eyes bright as he surveys his bride. Even through the veil, I can
see the way he stares, his eyes traveling up and down my form as his face
breaks into a wide smile.
I’ve never met him, never so much as shook his hand, and he’s looking at
me as if I’m his next meal. Dread pools in my gut and sweat begins to bead
along my forehead. I sway again, the black ants crawling closer and
“Keep it together,” my father hisses.
I can’t. I try to stop walking, but my father pulls me along, our steps
halting as he half drags me to the altar.
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