Ruined Castles (The Elite King's Club 8)

“That will be helpful for us, and for him to maybe help with his pain.”

Tate sighs, shaking her head while sipping on champagne that’s in her rose gold flute. “I don’t think he will ever recover from Bailey.” Of course, she’s right. Her death rocked all of us, as did Cash’s. Death is something that we’ve all become accustomed to, as sad as that sounds.

I pull the girls to their feet, Saint holding her belly as Tillie and I shuffle us through the people and make our way to the little photo area where there are celebration balloons and celebratory banners. We take a range of shots before we hear the timer start beeping.

Live music is playing some covers of new music, and the time reads three minutes left of this year. My eyes find Bishop, and I smile when he catches me, juggling both twins in each arm before handing one to Hector.

I curl my finger at him as he shoots back his whiskey. “Dance with me?”

He looks up to the timer, just as everyone starts counting down the seconds.

Ten.

Nine.

He pulls me into his chest and kisses me.

Eight.

Seven!

Six.

My tongue slips into his mouth as his hand cups my ass, lifting beneath my skirt.

Five!

Four…

His fingers slide beneath the lining of my panties.

Three!

Two!

He drops to one knee while flashing a little black box.

Grinning up at me, as everyone turns to watch, he smirks. “You want a wedding, baby?”

Five months later

The sun is going down, but it isn’t quite dark enough for the solar lights to all ignite. I look down from the window in our master bedroom, at all of the fairy lights that hang down the aisle, where sticks and leaves curve up into an altar. There are black tipped candles that line the aisle and steps leading down from the grand courtyard, and to the seating area and altar. Deep inside the house, in the largest atrium style area that connects one side of the house to the other wing, is currently being set up for dining.

Only Bishop and I would get married twice in one year. So much for the twenty-year pact the girls and I made, but I’m sure one way or another, we will find a reason to celebrate.

The bedroom door opens and Nate whistles loudly, leaning against the threshold. “Damn, Kitty. Now that’s a sight to see.” He’s wearing all black, with a black suit jacket and shirt, black slacks, and black loafers. I drew the line at him wearing sneakers.

My lower lip trembles and I make my way to him, resting my hand against his cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” His brows wiggle. “Has Tillie told you yet?”

I tilt my head, brows curved. “No, what?”

Tillie pushes past him, glaring while carrying a bottle of Grey Goose. “Tillie hasn’t told her because today is her day. Out!” She shoos him out of the room, closing the door on Nate.

“Nope!” I turn to face her, picking up the dress that’s pooled around my feet. “You must continue with what you were just about to say.”

She places the bottle on the vanity table, curling her lips beneath her teeth. “I’m pregnant.”

My mouth falls open. “What!” I jump into her arms, squeezing her into a hug.

“Don’t! Your makeup looks amazing, and that little devil face is perfect.”

I wave her off. “Oh my gosh, Tillie! Pregnant!”

“Yes.” She lowers herself onto the bed. “War is only a few months old. I am so screwed! And this pregnancy feels like Micaela’s, so I think it’s a girl this time.”

“That’s—amazing. I’m so excited for you, Tillie.” I take the spot beside her, curling her hair behind her ear. “One of us has to pop out another, you know, since Bran got a vasectomy and Bishop and I have drawn the line at two.”

“Anyway!” Tillie takes my hand and directs me to the medieval-style mirror in the corner of the room. “Look at you.”

I do this time. All day I’ve been ignoring the fact that in hours, I’m going to be standing in front of all of our friends and families to promise our lives to one another. Even though we are already married, the premise of how it was done angered me, and Bishop knew it. I haven’t had much control over our lives since he walked into it, and having this wedding helps me take back some of that control.

My dress is laced in black. It sucks in at my waist and flares out in the traditional bridal gown design at the bottom. The bodice is my favorite. Made up of one thousand black feathers, it curves up both sides of my breasts, leaving a slit in the middle and my back bare. I have to be careful I don’t slip a nip with how it’s laced. My hair is twisted in a messy knot at the nape of my neck and a black crown is pressed into my hair on the top. My fingers are painted matte black, with gold tips in the shape of a coffin, and my lips are painted black. Bishop let me do what I wanted with the aesthetic of our wedding and I did not hold back.