Claimed By The Devil (Devil's Riders 8)

Or at least, he likes to play with them, I thought with an inward smile.

“No!” Janet said, still looking like she was seeing a ghost. “You look beautiful.”

“Understatement,” Suzannah breathed. “You are stunning, Melissa.”

Everyone chimed in with compliments. Janet went outside to grab a full-length mirror she’d brought. She leaned it against the dresser and stood back so I could see myself, muttering that Kaylie needed a damned mirror in the house all the while.

“Oh,” I said, feeling like I was looking at a stranger. I did look pretty. Prettier than I’d ever looked before, at least.

“Do you like it?” Becky asked worriedly.

“I love it. I’ve never felt more . . .”

“You look like a goddess!” Kaylie exclaimed. It was funny coming from her, because she was the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. “A movie star!”

Everyone nodded and it happened again. I started crying.

“Your mama would be so proud of you,” Janet said, pulling me in for a hug. “I know she’s here watching.”

That was it. The dam broke. Everyone was hugging and crying while we stared at my reflection in the mirror.

“Oh, God, now we’re all crying!” Becky laughed. “I need a drink!”

Champagne was quickly handed out and we raised our glasses.

“To Meg,” Sally said, and we all drank.

“To Melissa and Nick!”

We drank again. I looked around at them as they checked my makeup and smiled.

“To the best friends I’ve had in my life.”

“Friends? Honey, we’re your sisters,” Angel said with a wink.

“To sisters,” I agreed. We all finished our drinks and took each other’s hands. It was a quiet, lovely moment until Janet clapped her hands and gave us a look. I could tell she was annoyed that we had made her cry. She didn’t like to let her guard down. But she did it anyway. It said a lot about what kind of person she was.

“Now, let’s get you down that aisle.”

Chapter Fifty-Three

Nick

“You need a drink, man. Try and relax,” Whiskey said, giving me a look. I had a tight grip on the deck railing. The seats were filling up and Preacher was drinking. The man made me nervous. I knew he was behaving himself these days, but he was crashing with Dev for a few days before heading back up north and I knew that meant he was going to get good and sloshed. Plus, I hadn’t seen or spoken to my bride-to-be in two days.

I was scared out of my mind that she might have a change of heart.

Get a grip, man. She loves you. She told you the last time you saw her! She texted that she loved you, butthead.

My heart sang every time she said it. We'd been saying it since the engagement party. I never would get tired of hearing the words. Every night, I pushed us both to the brink until we couldn't hold back the words another second. I don't know why I had hesitated to say the words for so long.

I loved her. She loved me. We were getting married. I knew down to my bones. I knew it in my soul.

So why the hell was I so terrified that she wouldn’t show up? Melissa wasn’t like that. She wouldn’t do anything like that to me. She was a rock, especially considering her age.

The girl was wise beyond her years, and then some.

But my rational inner voice was doing nothing to calm my fears.

“It's time,” Dev said as he took the tequila bottle away from Preacher. It was a good thing the Prez did it because anyone else would've had to pry the bottle away. Preacher might be an Untouchable, but he was an honorary Devil's Rider, too. He showed respect to the club Prez.

I gave him a worried look. The old bastard was still standing up, thankfully. And he was showing no signs of leering at all the pretty girls. Cynthia had cured him of that from the moment he laid eyes on her. She was a good girl, and another one I considered to be my sister, even though they weren’t as active in club life. They had their church and community to keep them more than busy.

Dear God, please tell him to keep his hands off my woman, I said in a silent prayer as we took our places at the end of the dock that extended from the deck. I didn’t want him to freak her out. That was if she even showed. But no. She would be here. I looked around at the familiar faces surrounding me. So many of us Riders had gotten married here. It was a beautiful place but it was more than that. It was tradition.

And the white-haired bastard giving me a funny look was part of that tradition.

“Don’t even think about pushing me in the lake,” Preacher said, giving Mac and me a stern look.