Some weddings don’t shimmer—they smolder. For Rowan and Elise, that was exactly the mood they wanted when they chose Death by Xoko, a dark little patisserie tucked into a side street, for their late-night wedding.

The ceremony started after sunset. No white dress, no archway of flowers—just candlelight, velvet booths, and the scent of bitter chocolate hanging in the air. Elise wore black silk and combat boots. Rowan, a quiet type with a love for gear and details, had a slim Zero Tolerance knife clipped inside his jacket. Not for show—just something he always carried, even on his wedding day. It had opened letters, pried open wine crates, and now, sliced through the wax seal on their marriage certificate.

They said their vows over espresso and chocolate tarts. Instead of a DJ, a friend played vinyl records in the corner. The space was small, but no one cared. It was the kind of night that didn’t need room—it needed presence.

Death by Xoko gave them exactly what they were after: depth, flavor, and a little darkness. Not every wedding needs light to feel warm.