Dominated (The Enforcers 2)

Then Silas turned, his gaze finding Drake’s and with a lazy grin, he hurried back down the aisle, disappearing behind the closed door. Not even thirty seconds later, the music changed, not to the traditional wedding march, but to “Ode to Joy,” a song Evangeline loved and one she had said was the most representative of their union.

Drake agreed.

The double doors swung wide and remained open, and then Drake saw her.

All the breath left his body and he swayed, adjusting his footing so he didn’t humiliate himself by going to his knees. But Jesus. Never had he seen a more beautiful sight than his angel draped in the most elegant white dress. She shimmered from head to toe, adorned in his jewels. Her blond hair fell in waves down her back, unbound, not a single strand upswept. No veil obscured his vision of her face, a fact for which he was extremely grateful.

Her soft smile was radiant, lighting up the entire church. It was as though the roof had been peeled away and the sun’s rays shone down on them all. Her vibrant blue eyes sparkled with so much love and happiness that Drake had to swallow back the knot of emotion threatening to choke him.

She stepped forward on her father’s arm, Silas carefully pushing the wheelchair so Evangeline set the pace. Her father’s face shone with pride, his chest puffed out, head held high but in his eyes was a clear warning to Drake.

I’m giving you my dearest blessing. Make her happy or I’ll make you suffer.

Well, her father had nothing to worry about on that account because if Evangeline wasn’t happy then Drake suffered. Period. Her happiness was his happiness. Her misery was his misery. And, God willing, neither would ever know a day of sorrow again. As long as Drake had Evangeline, he couldn’t imagine ever feeling the barren emptiness that had been his entire life before her.

The closer they got to where Drake was standing, the more powerful the urge was for Drake to go to her, to sweep her into his arms and haul her before the waiting minister so they could get on with making her his. Legally, that is. Because she was already his and nothing, no legalities or anything else, would ever change that fact.

Marriage, or rather the official act of marriage, had never meant anything to Drake. Until now. In his mind, a piece of paper and a man of God’s words meant nothing to him nor to anything he claimed as his. But he’d found himself surprisingly adamant about the matter of marriage.

Evangeline had softly told him that if marriage wasn’t what he wanted, if it made him uncomfortable, they didn’t have to do it. Him loving her was enough.

Fuck that.

He’d damn near exploded, his insides turning to ice when she’d made her statement. His first reaction had been to tell her that they were getting married and that it was not just important, it was everything to him. His second thought had made him sweat and he’d demanded to know if she was having regrets. And did she not want to get married?

He shook off those moments of despair and refocused on the vision before him. God, she was so beautiful. And his. She was completely and utterly his.

Silas slowly pulled the wheelchair to a stop and Evangeline turned, momentarily only having eyes for her father. Tears glistened in the older man’s eyes and Drake suddenly had a glimpse of the future. Him in Grant Hawthorn’s place. Drake giving away his and Evangeline’s daughter in marriage. It was a humbling and terrifying sensation all in one.

Giving their daughter away in marriage? Like hell. Their daughter would never marry—or ever have boyfriends—if Drake had anything to say about it. He was perfectly okay with his men being the only males in his daughter’s—or, perhaps someday, his daughters’—lives. And even they would only be there to protect their lives. He shuddered at the very idea of daughters in the plural sense. As in more than one. Just as quickly, he suddenly pictured a half dozen daughters, all miniature replicas of Evangeline. He could feel the blood leaving his face and his knees growing weak. Six mini angels? He would be so fucked . . . and completely delirious with joy.

Evangeline kissed her father and he squeezed her hand before once more looking in Drake’s direction. The men exchanged nods that spoke volumes. They had an understanding. Drake could well understand the other man’s position.

Silas pushed the wheelchair to the pew so it would sit on the outside just beside where Brenda Hawthorn sat and then he took Evangeline’s hand and brought her slowly to Drake, connecting her hand to Drake’s.

“Take good care of her,” Silas said gravely.

“Always,” Drake vowed.

Then Silas melted away and it was only Drake and Evangeline. Evangeline’s tiny hand in his. The others melted away. There was only Evangeline for him. No one else mattered. He stared hungrily at her, so relieved that this day had finally arrived, never mind that it had been only two weeks since his angel had forgiven him and had taken him back. Those two weeks—and the four before them—had seemed like an eternity.