Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 82524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
The final twenty feet. I make myself focus. Now that I see Hattie’s well, there’s extra space in my brain.
I’m getting married. I’ve been planning my own wedding for a couple weeks. Rafe’s brother is escorting me to the altar, and there he’s standing with an old man wearing priest’s robes—
Rafe looks like Lucifer incarnate.
His suit’s all black. His shirt beneath is black, his tie is black, his shoes, his tattoos, every inch of him is black, except his skin and his eyes. It’s startling, how handsome he looks, like a demon built to pleasure me and break me and make me full of hate. I tremble as I’m deposited across from him and Rafe takes my hands, holding them firmly, staring down into my face like he’s trying to read something.
“Your problem now,” Cassian mutters as he stalks off to sit at the very back of the room.
“Please be seated.” The priest clears his throat. If he knows I’m being forced into this, he doesn’t show it. But now I’m thinking about Cassian brutally murdering that stranger in my house, about his warning in the hall—
And Hattie sitting among them.
Monsters, all of them are monsters, and Rafe might be the worst of all.
“Dearly beloved, we gather here to witness the union of these two souls. Rafe Corvino and June—“ The priest hesitates, glancing at me.
“Ashworth,” I say, voice shaking.
The priest clears his throat, smiles apologetically, and continues with the ceremony. All the while Rafe watches me with that disconcerting desperation, and I don’t understand any of this. There’s blood in my kitchen and a killer in a suit, and I’m wearing a dress that must have been meant for someone else, because surely—
But no, I’m deluding myself.
This was always about him from the start.
He’s back and he’s not going anywhere.
Not this time.
I curse myself a thousand times as the priest says the words that will damn me to hell. Why did I ever sleep with this monster? Why did I go back to that room? But if I hadn’t, I never would’ve gotten Hattie. Can I really hate him this much?
Yeah. I sure as fuck can.
“Rafe Corvino, do you take this woman to be your wife—to have and to hold from this day forward, to honor and to keep her, in plenty and in want, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, so long as you both shall live?”
“I do.” No hesitation.
This can’t be happening.
“June Ashworth, do you take—“
“I do,” I say before he can get through the full list.
The crowd titters. Rafe tightens his grip on my hands. “Let the man finish, love,” he says softly.
“I’m not your love. Rafe, what is—“
“Shush now.” Rafe nods to the priest. “Finish it, Father.”
The priest coughs. “Ah, I was saying—to have and to hold from this day forward, to honor and to keep him, in plenty and in want, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, so long as you both shall live?”
“I have to,” I say, eyes downcast. “I do.”
Because of Hattie. Because they have my daughter.
I want to scream with the horror of it.
“With this ring, I marry you. What I have is yours, what is mine, I put between you and the world.” Rafe leans down and kisses my finger before slipping a simple gold ring on.
It fits. Yet again.
Almost like he planned this down to the last detail.
“What God has joined, let no one divide. By the authority entrusted to me, I declare you husband and wife. You may kiss—“
Rafe enfolds me in his arms and presses his mouth to mine.
I’m dizzy. I barely kiss him back at first, but I can’t stop myself. Soon I’m hungry for him, desperate for his taste as it all floods back: that night, locked in my brain, the ecstasy of him, the terror I felt then and now, bending and breaking against the walls of my mind. He holds me tight as I whimper and releases his lips from mine, pulling back to stare into my eyes.
There’s no sorrow, no uncertainty, no hint that what’s happening is wrong.
“Now you’re both mine,” he says and whisks me away, back down the aisle.
“Wait,” I say, twisting, looking back. “Hattie—“
“Our daughter will not be separated from us, don’t worry. Theodora is bringing her along.”
“Who? What’s happening? Rafe—“
“I’ll explain another time.” He tugs me closer. “Nod to Cassian. We owe him a debt.”
The brother waves casually like he can’t wait to get the hell out of here as I’m marched past.
“Why are you doing this?”
He says nothing. I’m led into the hall, but he doesn’t stop there. Rafe continues on, through the mansion, down to the rear entrance. I struggle at one point but his grip is iron and all he does is growl for me to stay calm or else he’ll have to drag me by the skull. And won’t that be a pity? To ruin the bride’s beautiful hair on her wedding night?