Because it might not even matter what Dad wanted for me.
Killian caresses my cheek with his knuckles, then his fingertips. My skin prickles where he touches, like he’s trained my body to respond to him like this.
“I know it might not be any consolation,” he says, “but I’ll do my best to prove I’m a worthy captor.”
Our gazes lock, the fucked-up words feeling so right. Like I’ve been waiting my entire life to be captured by him.
He moves close, offering me a kiss, as though sealing a promise. I kiss him back, releasing for an instant the weight of all the pain and obligations today has brought up.
Killian is my fate. That’s all that matters.
And for the first time, I allow myself to admit it’s all I want.
*
Over the nextfew days, Killian and I keep busy with wedding arrangements. Mom’s desperate desire to stop our union has only made us that much more committed to it, and along with our business engagements, we manage the planning stages, from cake to groomsmen’s suits to invitations.
Especially because of the recent issue with the Cronkites, out of an abundance of caution, security will be tight, and we’re doing our best to keep the guest list under fifty people, which requires skill in assuaging bruised egos of friends and extended family—though they understand why it’s important to ensureeveryone’s safety, especially with the recent hit, and the danger of having our families all together in one place.
What will soon be one unified family.
On Saturday morning—our wedding day—I wake in Killian’s arms. His hold is tight, like he’s trying to choke the life from me, yet I keep perfectly still. I don’t want him to move because it’s the most comfortable hold, as it always is when he grips me just like this. I may be unwilling to tell Killian I submit to him, but my body continues to betray me, since I feel safe in his hold.
As he stirs, he nuzzles against my cheek, giving me a tender kiss, and I love knowing his body accepts that I’m in bed with him even before he’s fully awake.
He growls. “Can’t we stay in bed until it’s time?”
We’re already married technically—we did that yesterday at the courthouse. The wedding is to make it official for our families because for Wildes and Lordes, this means more than any sheet of paper, which should say plenty, given how seriously Kill’s taken Old Terror and Ian Wilde’s agreement.
“We have too much to do,” I insist.
“No. Our brothers can take care of it all.”
“I don’t know about Rage, but I’m not even sure who’s gonna make my brothers get dressed for it.”
He groans, knowing I’m right. “Well, I want it to be clear I was totally against getting out of this bed.”
I laugh. “Noted.”
He finally forces his eyes open, setting his sights on me, a subtle smile playing across his lips. I rest my hand against his cheek, gazing into those gorgeous dark eyes. Eyes that are easy for me to get lost in.
“What are you thinking?” I ask.
“Wondering if when we get to theI dos, you’re gonna wind up sayingI don’t,” he teases.
“Seems like something I’d say,” I admit. “And I figure you’ll like it too. Force me to marry you and then drag me off to claim me again.” Maybe that’s more of a personal fantasy than anything else.
“Oh, I’m definitely looking forward to claiming you tonight after our wedding.”
He slides his hand to my ass, gripping firmly before nuzzling his face against mine. He kisses my cheek, then down my neck, nibbling at my flesh. My body’s alive with sensation.
“Killian, no. We have to get up.”
“When hasnoever stopped me?” he asks with a growl that sends a shiver down my spine, but he pulls away, even though I wish he’d resist more.
We only have time for a quick jerk-off session in the shower before we’re off. There’s plenty to keep us busy, between setting up the ballroom for the event, coordinating with the vendors, making last-minute changes to plans, before the tailor meets my brothers and me in the study, where we try on our suits to see if we need any adjustments.
“I look hot as fuck,” Wrath says, glancing himself over in the floor-length mirror. He spins toward me and displays the suit.
