Luna…
What the hell was that?
Kai’s been so cool and composed with this ridiculous proposal that the thought he’d ever be attracted to me never factored into what I thought this insane plan would entail. My cheeks flush as I remember his sardonic comment on the island.
I’m not going to fuck you. Don’t take this personally, but you’re not looking that good right now.
I assumed that meant he didn’t expect anything physical in this sham of a marriage. “Well, not happening,” I mumble, pacing my room, “you’re not getting pussy on demand just because you can make me marry you.”
Would he try to push me into sex? The look on his face when he leaned over to kiss me was hungry. I’ve never had anyone kiss me like that. Like they’d die if they couldn’t have me. Touching my swollen lower lip, I can still feel his sharp teeth pulling on it. Like a wolf.
The memory of him in that wolf mask, shirtless and wielding a baseball bat feels different this time, less terror and more… filthy, making me wonder what would happen if he ran meto earth, climbing over me this time, pushing that aggressively large cock against me while I gasped and heaved for air.
My skin is too sensitive, too itchy, or too small to fit everything I’m feeling and I yank off my borrowed jeans and sweater, hurrying into the bathroom to turn the shower on. Turning the lever to ‘cold,’ I grit my teeth.
Don’t make this more complicated than it already is, you idiot.
I stay in the shower until my teeth chatter, but my lower half still feels swollen. I do some sit-ups. Some planks. It doesn’t help. By the time I get into bed, my fingers are sliding into my underwear, picturing his enormous hands on me, squeezing my breasts, tugging on my nipples and I’m coming before I can even imagine what he’d feel like inside me.
The next day…
There’s a white dress on my bed.
Well, cream-colored which is good because white washes out my pale skin. Why is it here? The dress is a Dior, I can’t imagine what it cost. Some ridiculous amount of money for what is really, just a nice piece of pale silk, sleeveless, and when I put it up against me, it looks like it hits a couple of inches above the knee.
Looking back at the mirror, I see Kai lurking in the doorway like a well-dressed vampire. He’s eyeing me like he’s going to sprout fangs and sink them into my neck.
“Why is this dress here?”
His greener than green eyes roam up and down my borrowed sweatshirt and leggings. “Well, ya can get married in that, I suppose. You’ll stand out at the Registrar’s office, but it’s up to you.”
Dropping the dress back on the bed like it bit me, I back away. “There must be something else we can do. This is ridiculous.”
Putting his hands in his suit pockets, he strolls into the room in his fancy suit and his shiny dress shoes that are probably made from something endangered, like blue whales.
“Would ya like me to show ya a video?”
“What?”
“I can show you a video we pulled off the dark web. It was their initial field test for this new nerve gas formula before they went into production.” His expression is glacial, back to the cruelly indifferent man I met on the island. “Would ya like to see what happens to humans when-”
“You’ve made your point,” I say sharply. “I get it. Please shut the door and I’ll change.”
Because Kai is nothing but thorough, there’s also a lovely pair of Louboutin’s that perfectly match the color of the dress. Pulling my hair up in a French twist, I examine all the cosmetics Sloan and Catriona brought over for me. Swiping most of the collection back into the drawer, I put on some mascara and a nude shade of lipstick. I’m going to be sheet-white from stress during this ordeal and anything else will stand out on my face like clown makeup.
“This is insane,” I tell my reflection. She has nothing helpful to offer, so I trudge down the stairs, feeling more like I’m heading to an IRS audit than my wedding.
“Look at ya! A vision, ya are.” Another expensively suited man who looks a lot like Kai is waiting at the bottom of the stairs.
“Which MacTavish are you?”
“I’m the best MacTavish,” he grins, puffing up his chest. “I’m also Kai’s brother Logan. I’ll be escorting the two of you to the Registrar’s office.”
“This is nuts,” I say bluntly.
Logan finds this hilarious. “In our clan? It’s tradition.”
“Please don’t expand on that,” I say, about to rub my eyes before I remember I’m wearing mascara. Actually, that would be sort of hilarious to have mascara tears streaming down my face and ringing my eyes like a raccoon. That’s a wedding picture for the history books.
