“Well then, Miss. Jackson, it would be my honor to escort you to your first one,” Aeron whispers, releasing me from his hold, and I look over my shoulder to see him kneeling on the floor. Suddenly, the butterflies are in a frenzy, my fingers tingling as I turn to face him and take him in. Before I can say anything, he pulls out a small velvet box, the same color as my dress, and when he opens it, I see an emerald surrounded by sparkling diamonds winking back at me. “Lark Jackson, will you make me, us, the happiest of men by accepting this ring as a token of our love and fidelity.”
My breath stalls in my chest as his meaning sinks in. It’s not quite an engagement ring, as far as I know, marriage in the US is still only allowed between two people, not five. But it’s as close to a marriage proposal as it can be.
“Yes,” I whisper, tears filling my eyes as he gives me a smile that he rarely gives anyone. A smile so bright that there is no darkness left in the world, only light.
Leaping up, he grabs my left hand, taking the ring out of the box and pushing it on my slightly trembling ring finger.
“I love you, Lark Jackson, with every part of my ruined, black soul,” he confesses, drawing me in close, his lips hovering over mine for a beat before he closes that final distance and kisses me like he needs me to breathe. I kiss him back just as fiercely, telling him with my lips and tongue that he, they, are all I need in this life.
Pulling away, a giggle slips past my kiss-swollen lips as I gaze down at the ring, which feels familiar and strange all at once.
“I’d like to change my name,” I tell him, looking up to see his face still grinning like a loon. A single dark brow arches. “To Taylor. Lark Taylor.”
I watch as his eyes fill with moisture, his throat bobbing as he swallows. “That can be arranged, Dove,” he replies, his voice deep and husky. His arms squeeze me tightly and I breathe out a contented sigh. “Why aren’t the others here too?” I ask, my brows lowering as I realize that they’d want to be here. He gives me a smirk that is all arrogance.
“I pulled rank,” he gloats, and I let out an appalled gasp.
“You are such an asshole, Aeron Taylor,” I tell him, playfully swatting him with my left hand, the ring sparkling. He grabs my hand before it can leave his muscled chest.
“But I’m your asshole, so I don’t give a fuck,” he replies in a low tone, kissing just above the ring. “Now, go get your pretty ass into that dress and don’t forget the shoes.”
I don’t even bother to fight the eye roll, giving him a sweet smile when he tightens his grip and growls at my sass. “Sure thing, Devil Man,” I say, placing a kiss on his cheek. “Or maybe it should be Sugar Plum now that we’re practically married and all.”
I laugh outright as he growls again, then squeal as he pinches my ass, hard.
“That has earned you an edging session later, Dove,” he promises, finally letting me go as he backs towards the door. “I’ll make sure the others know not to let you come until I say so.”
And then he turns on his polished heel, leaving me glowering at his back as he calmly opens and then shuts my bedroom door.
Fucking asshole.
My breath fogs in front of me and I shiver when Aeron helps me out of the car, looking fucking edible in his full tuxedo. All the guys are wearing one, and I swear I almost came on the spotwhen I descended the stairs and saw them all waiting for me, staring up at me like I was their entire world.
“Let’s get you inside before you freeze, Dove,” Aeron ushers, his deep voice making me shiver again. He’s kept close since the proposal, only allowing me a kiss with each of the others before claiming me again. Possessive asshole.
My breath catches as I look up at the building before us. It’s the old town hall and is stunning in its majestic, old-time beauty. Fairy lights and green spruce garlands twirl up the columns that frame the front porch, leading to massive double wooden doors which are open with two members of the Tailor gang manning them. They dip their heads as we pass, clearly knowing who we are, and we’re soon in the warm, brightly lit foyer.
It’s also decorated for the season, with a gigantic Christmas tree nestled at the base of a winding double staircase. Smartly dressed waitstaff hold trays of champagne, and there are a crowd of people in gorgeous evening dress milling around or heading upstairs to where I assume the party is.
“Welcome to the ball, my Nightingale princess,” Jude beams, excitement shining in his eyes as he grabs my hand and tugs me away from his brother, who growls. Jude and I laugh as he leads me right to the left-hand staircase, not even grabbing a glass of bubbly as he pulls me up it.
“What’s the hurry, Devil Prince?” I ask, worrying that my heels will make me fall flat on my ass as we rush up the stairs, the others following quickly behind us.
Jude pauses at the top, allowing me to catch my breath, and then he ushers me into the room and my mouth drops.
“This, Nightingale. This was the hurry.” I can hear the pride in his tone but can’t tear my eyes away from the beautiful sight before me.
The room is magnificent; a vast space with gold-framed mirrors placed all around the walls that reflect the warm glowof the lit crystal chandeliers, at least three of them. The decor is, as expected, Christmas themed, but it’s all done in white so it’s like a winter wonderland with real, silver birch trees dripping in sparkling ornaments and beautiful centerpieces on each table.
There’s a string quartet up on a small stage playing an instrumental version of “Shape of You” by Ed Sheeran and people dressed in exquisite clothes that shine and sparkle beneath the lights fill the floor.
“It’s—” I can’t even find the words to describe how magical and beautiful the event is, and I’m sure my eyes are wide as fucking saucers as I try to take it all in.
“Come, Dove. Let’s introduce you around,” Aeron purrs in my ear, taking my free hand in his and placing it in the crook of his elbow. Jude, of course, doesn’t let go, so he comes with us, Knox and Tarl behind us as Aeron leads us into the crowd.
People immediately stop us as we pass, wishing us happy holidays and soon I’ve forgotten most of their names. There are just so many. Luckily, Knox grabbed me a glass of champagne, so my throat isn’t too dry, and I’ve nabbed a few canapes to munch on as we walk through the room. I’m not even surprised anymore by the apparent influence of the Tailors, the bowing and scraping these people do is slightly sickening though.
We stop in front of a handsome man with dark hair and his blonde wife, their daughter standing with them. She’s stunning, wearing a three-quarter length sleeve velvet gown in a delicate, peach color that has a nineteen-thirties vibe. Her hair is done up in a vintage style, and she reminds me of an old-fashioned movie star.
