And yet— My attention snapped back to the enormous stranger moving slowly down the aisle toward me. Toward us. Something about the way he looked at me made the air feel thicker. Charged. Like the atmosphere before a lightning strike. Even from this distance I could feel the weight of his gaze, hot and unrelenting, sliding across my skin in a way that made my breath catch again. It wasn't just attention. It felt like recognition. Possession.
A strange awareness sparked along my nerves, my body reacting to his presence before my mind could catch up. My pulse raced faster. My skin prickled. My lungs struggled to draw a full breath as though the man's sheer size and intensity had altered the amount of oxygen in the room. He wasn't looking at Derek. He wasn't looking at the pastor. He wasn't looking at the guests screaming in confusion behind him. He was looking at me. And the terrifying part was… some deep, reckless part of me couldn't look away.
The universe had apparently decided to drop a living, breathing sex god into the middle of my wedding.
The giant striding toward me looked less like a man and more like a deity who had stepped out of some violent legend. Behind him, something even more impossible happened. A van screeched to a halt outside the shattered church doors. The sound of tires tearing against pavement cut through the stunned silence, followed by the slam of doors and a rush of movement. People spilled out of the vehicle in a frantic wave—not police. Not security. A camera crew. Three of them. Each one carried massive professional equipment, lenses the size of my head pointed straight at the chaos unfolding inside the church. They shoved past cowering guests, stepping over overturned flower arrangements and crushed rose petals as if they were storming a battlefield instead of a wedding. The cameras swung wildly, capturing everything. Every scream. Every shattered piece of wood. Every step the enormous stranger took as he stalked down the aisle toward me.
And leading them?—
"Keep rolling!" The voice burst into the church like a firework. A man in what could only be described as a bedazzled nightmare charged through the doorway, waving his arms frantically as if conducting an orchestra of absolute insanity. Bright, spiked hair shot up from his head like neon antennae. His face was covered in theatrical makeup dramatic enough for a stage performance. Even in the middle of the chaos, even with my heart racing and my brain struggling to process the giant alien warrior invading my wedding— I recognized him instantly.
Holy shit. Chet Bosworth was in the church. At my wedding. He was impossible to miss. The man had been famous for years, ever since the Bachelor Beast show exploded across every streaming service on the planet. Actually… not just the planet. The universe. Which still sounded ridiculous every time I thought about it, but apparently everyone in the Interstellar Coalition of Planets had become obsessed with watching giant alien warriors search for brides on reality television. And now the host of that insane show was standing ten feet inside the church, practically vibrating with excitement. "This is for television, people!" he shouted, spinning toward the camera crew with manic enthusiasm. "We’ll need all of you to sign waivers! Don't stop filming!"
His outfit alone could probably be spotted by satellites. Technically it was a suit. But it was electric blue and absolutely covered in sequins that exploded with color every time the sunlight hit them. The fabric shimmered so brightly it threw fractured rainbows across the stone walls of the sanctuary. A canary-yellow feather boa hung around his neck. His shoes were white patent leather—blindingly shiny—and one of them was untied, the lace dragging across the floor as he rushed forward. He looked like a carnival had exploded and somehow reorganized itself into human form.
Behind him, one of the camera crew members lifted something high above the crowd. A large sign on a stick. Bold black letters. BACHELOR BEAST.
My brain stalled completely. My wedding had become a television show. A circus. A horrifying, glitter-covered circus. Was this going to be next month’s broadcast? To the whole world? To the freaking universe?
The realization hit me like a punch to the chest. The air left my lungs all at once, and I swayed slightly on my feet as the edges of the room blurred for a second. This couldn't be happening. This had to be a nightmare. A stress-induced hallucination brought on by wedding nerves, emotional exhaustion, and the entirely unreasonable amount of champagne I'd consumed at the rehearsal dinner last night.
But the screams echoing through the church were real. The shattered doors were real. The crushed roses scattered across the marble floor were real. And the half-naked giant stalking toward me with single-minded intensity— He was very, very real.
"What the—" Derek's voice sliced through my spinning thoughts, sharp with sudden panic. He stepped forward immediately, moving in front of me in a protective gesture that would have been sweet if the situation weren't so completely insane. His shoulders squared as he faced the approaching stranger, his voice rising over the murmurs of the crowd. "Who the hell are you? Security! Someone get security!"
The giant didn't even look at him. Not once. Not even a flicker of acknowledgement. His gaze never left my face.
Up close, I could finally see his eyes clearly. Amber. A deep, molten golden-brown that seemed almost unreal, as if they held their own inner light. The color burned through the space between us, focused and unwavering. The intensity of that stare hit me like a physical force. It felt as if he could see straight through my skin. Through my thoughts. Through every carefully guarded secret I'd ever hidden.
My pulse skipped violently. Heat rushed up the back of my neck. My stomach flipped in a way that had absolutely no business happening during a church invasion. He wasn't looking at me the way men usually looked at women. Not curiosity. Not appreciation. Not even lust. It was something far more dangerous. Recognition. Certainty. The kind of focus a predator locked onto prey. Or… something much more possessive.
The giant kept coming. Derek reacted first. He snatched one of the tall brass candlesticks from the altar and held it out in front of him like a sword, his knuckles whitening around the base as he planted himself between me and the approaching giant. "Stay back!" he shouted, his voice cracking despite the bravado. "Don't come any closer!"
The giant stopped. Not because of Derek. Not because of the candlestick. The pause had nothing to do with fear or hesitation. His massive body simply went still because he chose to stop, his towering frame settling into perfect, predatory stillness. The air itself seemed to tighten around him. His shoulders rose and fell once with a slow breath, powerful muscles shifting beneath glitter-dusted skin. And his gaze never left my face.
"Have you spoken your vows?" The sound of his voice slid through the sanctuary like distant thunder. It was deep—too deep, too rough to belong to a human throat. The words rolled out slowly, each one vibrating through the air like stones grinding together at the bottom of the ocean. "Are you mated in the human way?"
Derek blinked at him like a deer caught in headlights, confusion warring with outrage across his face. "What? I—what are you talking about?"
The giant didn't look at him. Not even a flicker of recognition. "Answer me." The command snapped through the room with quiet authority.
My spine straightened instinctively, my body reacting before my mind could even process why. Something in his tone demanded obedience on a level that bypassed logic completely. He was still staring directly at me. "Have you chosen this male?" he asked, his voice lowering into something even rougher. "Have you sworn yourself to him?"
The entire church had gone silent. Even the camera crew seemed to hold their breath. Behind the altar, poor Pastor Johnson—who had baptized me as a baby—peeked out from behind the lectern. His face had gone pale, his hands trembling as he adjusted his glasses. "N-no," he stammered. "The vows have not been exchanged. The ceremony was… was just beginning."
The giant finally glanced at someone other than me. It was only a brief flick of those molten amber eyes, but the look carried enough weight to make the pastor immediately shrink back behind the altar again. Then those eyes returned to me. Suddenly the rest of the room disappeared. It was just me. And him.
The way he looked at me stole the air from my lungs. That was how a groom was supposed to look at his bride. Not with Derek's cool calculation or the faint, self-satisfied arrogance he always carried. This man looked at me like I was something precious and powerful and entirely his. Like he wanted to devour me.
Heat spread across my skin, my heart pounding hard enough to shake my ribcage. My pulse raced wildly in my throat as I tried to remember how my lungs worked.
I had made the deal with Derek. Signed the stupid six-month marriage contract. Signed every page his lawyers had pushed across the table. It was supposed to be done. Final. Simple. But standing there beneath the weight of that golden stare, something inside me twisted violently. So, I'd signed some papers. A business arrangement made with a friend who didn't love me. It wasn't like I would be breaking Derek's heart. He would barely be inconvenienced. He would simply find someone else willing to play pretend wife for a few months. So what?
The truth crashed through me with shocking clarity. I didn't care what happened to Derek. I couldn't live with Derek for six months—not while this enormous Atlan Warlord stood in front of me looking like the world would end if he couldn’t touch me. Because that was exactly what he was. An Atlan. A warrior. A beast. And he was staring at me like he couldn't live without me.
I didn't want a quiet contract marriage. I didn't want six months of polite distance and separate bedrooms. I didn't want a lonely bed and a closet full of designer shoes purchased with someone else's money. I wanted passion. Devotion. Honesty. And judging by the very obvious situation happening inside those leather pants… a huge freaking cock.
Good God. He was enormous. The leather did absolutely nothing to hide it, and my body reacted with humiliating enthusiasm. My pulse pounded between my thighs, heat pooling low in my belly in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with fear. My traitorous body had never responded to Derek like that. Not once in the five years I'd known him. I had never slept with him. Had never planned to. But Mr. Glitter? Hell yes. If I was going to ruin my life, I might as well ruin it spectacularly.
