The Witch Born to Smoulder (Inferno Book 4)

want to give those old bats any more to gossip about.’
Angela smiled, some of her true self returning.
‘Thank goodness you’re here, Eva. I couldn’t have done this without you.’
I settled my free hand over hers. ‘You’re strong, Angela – I can see that. Never forget that, okay?’
She let out a long sigh. ‘I’m not so sure about that. But for some reason, I feel stronger around you.’
Angela moved away to retrieve her make-up bag and broke our connection. The moment she turned away, the heat I’d managed to hold onto seeped away. I was left shaking and cold in the ridiculous, flimsy dress I’d been made to wear. I held onto my groan as I glanced down at the long pale-pink silk dress with fine straps that hugged my every curve in a way that seemed indecent in Orpheus’s God-fearing town. But I’d learned there was no logic or reason – only Orpheus’s rules, which must be obeyed. I was clearly on show to his son as the prize Ezra had won from Max and Noah, and a reminder to those men of what they would never have. I felt as though a million invisible bugs crawled onto my skin. At some point, I’d stopped being a person and had become an object to be controlled.
I remembered back to the dreadful, fateful day a week ago when Noah and Max sought my hand in marriage, only to be trumped by Ezra and Orpheus – my soon-to-be husband and father-in-law. Every day I tried to wrap my head around what had happened, what had been decided for me, and even though I’d been promised to Ezra, a man I loved, and not to one of the brutes who’d tried to force me to be theirs, I was no closer to accepting I was to be married off – as Angela was about to be.
‘Eva, could you help me?’ asked Angela, bringing me back into the room.
Outside, the music started and the congregation fell silent, waiting for the much-anticipated first bride to make her appearance.
Quickly, I tried my best to fix her make-up and then smoothed down her white dress. When she was ready, I crouched and prepared her long train so that it would flow perfectly behind her.
‘Do I…look okay?’ she asked after applying her lipstick.
I walked to stand in front of her and smiled. ‘You’re beautiful.’ A sting of pink erupted in her cheeks. ‘Ready?’
She took a deep breath before speaking. ‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’
I smiled as I carefully placed the lace veil over Angela’s face, shrouding her in mystery. She took a few final moments to prepare for a fate she’d never in a million years thought would await her. I retrieved two rose-filled bouquets from a nearby table and then cracked open the door. Facing me was the deathly pale face of the security guard.
‘We’re ready,’ I said.
He let out a sigh.
‘Thank the Lord,’ he whispered before turning back around and reaching for his radio. His swift instructions started up Pachelbel’s Canon in C – the wedding march, which floated through the church and down to the vestibule.
I passed Angela her flowers and whispered, ‘You can do this, Angela. Put one foot in front of the other, okay?’
She nodded. I walked to stand in front of her, and then the double doors were pushed wide open. Every parishioner shuffled to stand before turning, their gazes raking over us. I froze. It took Ezra moving into my sight and smiling from the front row of the church before I could move forward.
I became aware of every sensation as I slowly walked down the aisle. The silk of my dress pressed against my body. The soft sweetness of the roses that I held in my hands and that were threaded through my hair wafted over me. Penetrating eyes dissected my womanly figure, leaving my skin hot and dewy.
Keeping my gaze glued on Ezra, I put one step in front of another until I reached the front of the church. I hurried up several steps to reach the altar before walking past the nervous-looking groom. Orpheus nodded at me as I took my place beside the priest.
Scattered between the flowers that filled the church were the people of Melas, their faces hungry with anticipation – for this wedding, but also for the one where I would be standing at the altar as Ezra’s bride.
The pianist increased the tempo of the song, turning everyone towards the main attraction: the bride. She stepped into the church as though entering a force field. She gazed through her white veil, not at her future husband, but at me.
I put on my best encouraging smile, but I felt my powers stir, urging me to step forward and save Angela. My gaze flickered to my family and I remembered my promise, my obligation to them – to blend in, to keep my witchcraft hidden, to stay safe.
Inside me raged a battle – the need to be myself against my promise to hide. I took a deep breath and held onto the promise to help protect my family, an uneasy feeling settling in the base of my stomach. Whispered into my ears came the question, What about the next time? Will I be able to suppress my powers then?
Angela reached her groom and the music died a sudden death. Every set of eyes lasered in on the couple. Angela turned to face her fiancé, her skin as stark white as the dress she wore. I didn’t know James, but he smiled kindly at Angela and quietly took her hand. It was a small act, but it told me that although this was no marriage of love, James was a good man, someone she could trust, someone who would protect her from Orpheus.
My gaze flickered to Orpheus – our dictator mayor and my soon-to-be father-in-law. He was smiling and appeared to be delighting in his own cleverness about the forced match. I glanced away, but not before he