Chapter 132: Chapter 132 Best birthday I’ve ever had
Aria’s POV
"Damian," I said softly.
He didn’t respond, but I saw his jaw flex.
"Let’s do it." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "Let’s get married today."
His head snapped toward me, just for a second, and I caught the flash of surprise in those dark eyes. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, and for just a moment, I saw something raw and unguarded in his expression.
Hope. Disbelief. Joy.
It made my heart squeeze.
"But," I added, trying to lighten the suddenly heavy atmosphere, "you owe me a proper proposal later. A real one."
The corner of his mouth lifted—not his usual confident smirk, but something softer, more genuine. "Deal."
He raised our joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles without taking his eyes off the road. The gesture was so unexpectedly tender that I felt my breath catch.
"Hold on," he said, and suddenly we were accelerating, weaving through traffic with practiced ease.
My heart hammered as downtown gave way to the civic center area. We were really doing this. We were actually going to get married.
Today.
Right now.
Holy shit.
Damian pulled into the courthouse parking lot with seven minutes to spare. He killed the engine and turned to face me fully, reaching over to cup my face in both hands.
"Aria." His voice was rough, intense. "Are you absolutely sure about this?"
Was I?
This was crazy. We’d known each other for such a short time. We hadn’t even completed the mate bond yet. This was the kind of impulsive decision I never made.
But when I looked into his eyes and saw the man who’d stood by me, who’d defended me, who’d chosen me over and over again...
"I’m sure," I whispered.
He kissed me then—hard and claiming and full of promise. When he pulled back, we were both breathing hard.
"Let’s go make you officially mine."
We practically ran into the building, my heels clicking frantically on the marble floor. The woman at the information desk looked up in surprise as we skidded to a stop in front of her.
"Marriage license," Damian said, slightly out of breath. "Where do we go?"
She blinked at us, taking in our flushed faces and obvious urgency, then smiled. "Third floor, room 302. But you’d better hurry—they close in five minutes."
"Thank you!"
We found the stairs faster than waiting for an elevator. Damian kept his hand on the small of my back as we climbed, steadying me when I nearly tripped on a step.
Room 302 was at the end of a long hallway. Through the window in the door, I could see a clerk gathering her things, clearly preparing to leave.
Damian didn’t hesitate. He pushed the door open. "Wait!"
The clerk—a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and graying hair—looked up in surprise. "We’re technically closed..."
"Please." I stepped forward, slightly breathless. "We made it before five-thirty. We just need to file for a marriage license."
She looked between us, taking in my probably-disheveled appearance and Damian’s intense expression, and something in her face softened.
"Well," she said, setting her bag back down with a small smile, "I suppose I can stay a few extra minutes. It’s not every day I see people this eager."
Relief washed over me so suddenly I felt almost dizzy.
The paperwork was surprisingly straightforward. Names, addresses, identification, signatures. The clerk worked efficiently, asking questions in a practiced manner that suggested she’d done this thousands of times.
But when she really looked at us—actually looked, not just processed—her eyes widened slightly.
"My goodness," she murmured, glancing between our IDs and our faces. "You two are... well, you make quite a striking couple."
I felt my cheeks heat. Damian just squeezed my hand.
"There’s actually an officiant still in the building," the clerk said, stamping the final document.
"Judge Morrison. He sometimes works late on Fridays. If you’re interested in getting married today—actually married, not just licensed—I could check if he’s available?"
My heart stuttered. I looked at Damian.
His eyes were locked on mine, dark and intense and full of that same raw want I’d seen in the car.
"Yes," we said in unison.
The clerk smiled—a real, warm smile. "Let me make a call."
Five minutes later, we were standing in a small room with wood-paneled walls and soft lighting.
Judge Morrison, a distinguished man in his sixties, stood before us with a leather-bound book in his hands.
"This is a bit unorthodox," he said, but he was smiling. "But sometimes the best marriages start with a bit of spontaneity."
My hands trembled as Damian took them in his. His grip was steady, grounding.
This was really happening.
"Damian Blackwood," Judge Morrison began, "do you take Aria Smith to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
Damian’s voice was steady, absolute. "I do."
"And Aria Smith, do you take Damian Blackwood to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
I looked into those dark eyes and saw my future. Saw safety and passion and partnership. Saw everything I’d never dared to hope for.
"I do."
"Then by the power vested in me by the state, I now pronounce you husband and wife." Judge Morrison’s smile widened. "You may kiss your bride."
Damian didn’t wait for permission. He pulled me against him and kissed me like he was claiming me all over again.
Like he was branding me, marking me, making absolutely certain everyone knew I was his.
When we finally broke apart, we were both grinning like idiots.
"Congratulations," the clerk said warmly, handing us our marriage certificate. "I’ve been doing this job for twenty years, and I have to say—you two are something special."
We thanked everyone and stumbled back out into the hallway, official marriage certificate in hand.
The moment the door closed behind us, I started laughing. I couldn’t help it. The sheer insanity of what we’d just done hit me all at once.
"We just got married," I said, slightly hysterical. "We actually just got married."
Damian grinned—that rare, genuine smile that transformed his whole face. "Yeah, we did."
He swept me up into his arms, spinning me around right there in the courthouse hallway, and I laughed harder, throwing my arms around his neck.
"Happy birthday, husband," I whispered against his ear.
His arms tightened around me. When he set me back on my feet, his eyes were suspiciously bright.
"Best birthday I’ve ever had, wife."
As we walked back through the courthouse lobby, certificate in hand, the evening sun streaming through the tall windows, I realized something.
I, Aria Smith, had truly become the Luna Queen to the Alpha King.
I’d walked into this building Aria Smith, the girl nobody wanted.
I was walking out Aria Blackwood, wanted by the most powerful Alpha in the Kingdom.
And I’d never felt more like myself in my entire life.
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