An introduction is an important thing but I'm absolutely atrocious at them, so I'm just going to jump straight into my post— and hope you like me enough to read all the way to the end.

COOKIES ARE INVOLVED IF YOU DO.

not really; but there is a giveaway you might be interested in.

Earlier this year, I started a new story — Arranged Marriage To Mr. Right — that quickly gained a sizable following and reached #2 on the Vampire What's Hot List —10 | 03 | 16 — much to my surprise.

Many of you, who are already dedicated fans of Arranged Marriage To Mr. Right are currently reading this with any measure of excitement because of my endless and undoubtedly obnoxious promotion of the Wattpad Block Party — Winter Edition III hosted by @KellyAnneBlount. For that, I thank you very much.

I hope you enjoy a peek at Theveros from Everett's point of view.

Theveros is the ship-name readers of Arranged Marriage To Mr. Right have given Thanos and Everett.

When Saying 'I Do' Is All You Can Do

Maybe marriage to Thanos Right won't be so bad, I think, following behind my father and Richard Right, current head of the Moroii family and my new father-in-law. The arrangement will end the bloody war that has encased Necropolis for months. Innocent people will be spared. With the ruling families at peace, everything will go back to normal.

What is really considered normal when you live in a place such as Necropolis, surrounded by monsters parading around as nothing more than average men?

How long can normal really last?

Shaking my head, I close my eyes and breathe deeply. There are some thoughts not meant for this day. There are some things I will have to forget in order to make this marriage of (in)convenience work. My father, for the first time in my short twenty years, is depending on me and I am not going to let him down. His disappointment is deadly on the best of days as those in our family know well.

"You can do this, Everett," I whisper to myself.

A sharp glare from my father, an average man who appears larger than life simply because of his imposing nature, makes me swallow and press my lips together. An undetectable tremor dances like death's cold fingers down my spine.

Richard Right, with his head full of white hair, countless wrinkles, and seemingly kind but efficient mannerisms, appears not to have heard my self-encouragement as we follow his clipped pace through the Moroii family estate. That is for the best.

Richard stops at a pair of heavy wooden doors and lifts his hand to knock. After only a few seconds, a husky, 'come in,' has Mr. Right pushing into the room with my father only slightly behind him.

The pair is uncomfortable in each other's company, and I suppose that is to be expected despite the wedding that took place just a few hours ago. They have been enemies far too long for them to ever be anything else.

Will Thanos and I ever be anything more than sons caught in our father's war?

Bowing my head, I close my eyes and suck my bottom lip between my teeth.

I fear the answer is no.

"The papers," Richard speaks to his son. I lift my eyes for only seconds, taking in the strained appearance of my new husband. There is no denying he is handsome despite the unhappy expression he wears.

Thick caramel hair brushes his neck and shimmering blue eyes, as deep as an ocean, seem to take in everything around him— missing nothing. They're a stunning complement to his solid features. Pointed jaw, cleft in his chin; most days, from what I have seen of him, there is a shadow of unshaven facial hair. Today, he is well groomed, perfectly put together in honor of our wedding— if being married can be called an honor at all.

Thanos steps forward, accepting the folder from his father. It is the peace treaty— with a few notable changes I doubt my spouse is going to approve of. It isn't as if he can really refuse to sign the treaty. As far as I am concerned, the real damage is done. The wedding contract has been signed, dated and passed into the safekeeping of our families respective elders.

"This isn't what I agreed to," Thanos' declares. Richard shifts on his feet and doesn't meet Thanos' hard stare as if he is . . . ashamed. "Sharing a bed? Being faithful, and committed to our vows? Children in ten years' time to solidify the bond? This is ludicrous."

We would have to share a bed. The idea isn't horrifying. Nor is the idea of being faithful and committed to our vows. My own parents, regardless of the current strain on their marriage and the monumental changes taking place in our family, have always been faithful and committed to their marriage. Children, though . . .

My cheeks burn if the heat is any indication. How will we even . . . produce children? Both of us are men.

Lifting my eyes from the floor for only a moment, I catch the expression of outrage on Thanos' face.

"Thanos—" Richard begins. Thanos flings the folder at the aging man and it hits his chest before fluttering to the floor. Bending over with slow grace, Richard retrieves it without so much as a twitch of his jaw to give away his feelings. If I had done such a thing to my father, I would be laid across the floor nursing a number of broken bones— at best.

"If you want peace that badly, I suggest you two marry," Thanos sneered. Now, Richard's jaw ticks. Thanos meets his hard glare unflinching. I shift as the tension rises in the room.

Has he forgotten we are already married?

Dropping the folder on the table, Richard tucks one of his hands into his pocket. "You will do your duty as the next head of this family."

Turning, Richard is clearly finished with this conversation. My father doesn't spare me a glance as he follows his nemesis from the room. The door settles against the jam with a resounding SLAM. Thanos' gaze is hot like the midday sun when I meet it.

The oldest Right sibling sighs with defeat.

Bending, he signs the papers located in the cream folder with a flourish before standing upright. My heart is pounding so hard I can envision it breaking through my chest cavity and doing the tango with the dust mites any second.

"So . . . I don't know about you, but I could use a drink," Thanos's voice is flat.

I open my mouth to tell him I find alcohol disagreeable. "A drink."

It isn't what I intended to say but under the circumstances, it feels necessary to steady myself with a strong shot of whatever he is prepared to offer me.

Crossing to a cabinet, he withdraws a bottle of what can only be whiskey of superior quality. Amber liquid splashes into the bottom of the two tumblers he retrieved. Knowing the polite thing to do is to step forward and join him at the small bar, I order my feet to move but they don't obey. I am frozen to the spot. This is the first time we have ever been alone and I am unsure what to expect or how I should behave.

What kind of man is Thanos Right?

I don't know— and that scares me.

Coming to me, Thanos extends the glass and my fingers shake as I reach for it.

"I don't bite," he speaks; his voice washes over me and I recoil from the orotund sound. Liquid splashes over the rim of the glass and trickles down my fingers. Thanos steps back and I release a breath that I don't realize I was holding until oxygen rushes into my burning lungs.

We both stare at each other. "Drink."

The whiskey burns my throat; I swallow a cough as Thanos finishes his own whiskey. Unsure where to look, my head dips as I stare at the floor. Footsteps sound and I peek at Thanos to see him moving back towards the whiskey cabinet. Filling his glass once more, he drains it before the liquid has time to settle.

"Do you always drink so heavily?" I whisper, annoyed suddenly by the fact he is choosing to drink on our wedding day. Is it necessary? Or maybe he is an alcoholic and my family was never informed.

"Only when I get married," he quips. My fingers tighten around the glass I am grasping.

"And do you do that often?" I snark, forgetting my place. Thanos sets the empty glass down.

"Are you against an occasional beverage?" he questions.

"What I find to be occasional, you may not," I reply diplomatically. My opinion of alcohol is low— and I doubted it is going to improve anytime soon if he turns out to be a drunkard.

Thanos walks forward and I swallow hard. "What do you find occasional?"

Curling into myself, I clench the tumbler harder. "I . . . I . . ."

I can't find the words to speak around the lump in my throat. He is too close for comfort, and I have spoken out of turn. What will the punishment be?

My knuckles turn white; spider cracks appear on the glass. It shatters; shards bury themselves in my palm as a guttural cry of pain vibrates my throat. Crystal showers to the floor while red swells around what remains embedded before running towards my wrist; my eyes widen in horror.

Stumbling away from my husband, I watch for signs of the familiar bloodlust Moroii are famous for. Curling his fingers around my shoulder, he yanks me forward, and the sheer power behind the action has me stumbling. My whimper of terror is unintended.

"My father will slaughter us both if you drop on this carpet."

Dragging me across the room, he shoves me into a leather chair behind a desk. I try to control myself, to cease my growing tremble but it is impossible.

Am I going to die before I've even had a chance to truly live— murdered by my bloodthirsty husband on our wedding night because I broke a glass and he lacked self-control?

Grabbing the curtain just behind me, he yanks hard on the fabric and it tears. "Mother, however, will thank us for destroying this eyesore."

Why did he sound as if he found this situation humorous? It isn't; I can assure him.

Kneeling, he tucks some of the fabric under my bloody palm. As the liquid runs, I close my eyes. The pain is nothing compared to the fear.

What is he doing?

I'm not going to wait to find out.

Sliding my hand over the shards, the pain clears my head momentarily. Grabbing my wrist, he tugs, but I am strong and unwilling to expose myself to him and whatever desire he may have.

"You're only causing more damage; stop being difficult," he snaps.

"This is all your fault," I hiss. If he hadn't given me the drink, I wouldn't have broken it.

If he . . .

Thanos's eyebrows raise. I squeeze my eyes shut. Now is not the time to think about how things could be so much different.

"I've done nothing," he speaks, so full of confidence, and I scoff.

Nothing is hardly what I would consider what he has done.

"You volunteered."

Book Jacket :

Arranged Marriage To Mr. Right by @Autumn_Breeze.

Giveaway Information:

Please remember I am offering to read and offer constructive criticism on two chapters of one lucky winner's story of choice.

Facebook : https://www.facebook.com/AuthorAutumnBreeze

Wattpad : https://aztruyen.top/tac-gia/Autumn_Breeze

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