Werepoodle Boyfriend: Padraic 2 (special preview)

I had always admired my mother’s wedding gown when I was little. I used to sneak into her closet with my sisters when we were little and we would try on her clothes, walk around in her shoes, and play pretend until she came home and would shoo us away. Sometimes we would pull out her wedding dress and try to imagine what our weddings would be like. I never had a clear cut image of what my wedding day would be, my mind was full of other ideas. I had more thoughts about being a spinster or widow than I did a loving wife.

Since I had no ideas for a wedding, it was easy to let Padraic take the lead. He asked me about colors, food, table settings, and the like, but for the most part, I enjoyed that he was taking the lead. It allowed me to sort through my writer’s block.

After he had retrieved my manuscript from my former publishers, he insisted I complete it. Due to the trauma and mockery I received from my outing, I was having trouble finding that old spark I used to hold. I had written countless pages, crumbled them all up and threw them away into the fireplace so Padraic couldn’t see my failure.

I suppose the news of my future husband’s true nature was a bit of a shock too. Revealing to me he was a werepoodle took guts on his part. I could have reacted badly, even violently, but instead I laughed until it felt like I was inside out. I don’t know why it didn’t bother me the way it should. I suppose I was now only much more curious about the nature of the world. If werepoodles and werewolves were genuine creatures, what else was there? Vampires? Ghouls? Witches? Dragons? Were they all real beings sharing my world but in secret? It was frightening to picture some, but just exciting all the same. Humans were boring, at least my family would be interesting.

My mother and sisters were brought up for the fitting of my wedding gown. It was nice to see them, and I greatly appreciated Padraic bringing them up for such a thing. My sisters were just as gutted as I was upon meeting Padraic and they were nothing but a flurry of questions when we were alone.

“He’s very spoiled, I suppose that’s how I believe he is single.” I tell them. “He’s a perfectionist, and you know how hard that is to get along with.”

“But he is so beautiful,” one sister sighs.

“Probably why I let him get away with it for now. That and I do think he genuinely likes me.” The wedding gown is very soft pink with hints of pale yellow in the trimming. I have to admit, the color suits very well, and I am not offended by the shape of the gown. It is much more flowy than I expected. My mother’s wedding gown had been pale green and yellow, so I liked the fact that the yellow had been incorporated in. I felt connected to my mother when I wore it.

Padraic went into seclusion days before the wedding, both to prepare as well as play the part of some grand romantic gesture. I told him it was silly, as this marriage was one of convenience for both of us and nothing romantic in the least.

“Let me have my fun,” he said with that boyish, beautiful smile of his. “Let me play the part.” His kiss on my knuckles was very much a welcome gesture. “I have ordered a beauty regimen for you. Take full advantage of it, because it will have to last the entire honeymoon.”

Padraic was being extremely secretive about the honeymoon. It mattered not to me where we went or what we did. I wasn’t allowed in most circles anymore anyways. His beauty regimen was as expected; I was pampered, oiled, bathed, fluffed, coiffed, and kept moisturized within an inch of sane reason.

The wedding itself was beautiful, Padraic really outdid himself. He, too, was beautiful, and I almost forgot I was marrying him from how fast he stole my breath. He supplied his own wine, made from the fruits of his orchard, and served it to the wedding guests. As soon as we were wed, there was a celebration. We shared a dance, feasted, enjoyed cake, and danced some more. Due to the limp in his leg, our dances were slow and I braced him most of the time. It was still a wonderful evening, though, and I was surprised to find myself looking forward to our wedding night.

Once we are in the chambers he’s prepared for the wedding night, I do feel nervous. My stomach is in knots, my chest is afluffter, my knees feel weak, and I haven't a clue what to do with my hands.

Padraic pours himself more wine as he loosens his collar. He takes a drink while watching me still standing at the door. “You can come in. You don’t need to stand there.”

I take a small step. “I am simply undecided where to go first.”

Padraic smirks. “You have written many cursed wedding nights in your books. I am surprised you have no clue what to do now.”