Claimed By The Devil (Devil's Riders 8)

“Don’t think about kissing the bride,” I growled at him. He gave me a sly wink and a smirk, which did nothing to calm my fears. Melissa was still an innocent in so many ways. She might freak out if he laid one on her.

Plus, I really, really wouldn’t like it.

“Salty old fuck,” I muttered, facing forward.

“Impertinent young twat,” he replied without looking at me. The best men all grinned.

Dev, Donahue, Jack, Whiskey, Call, Mac, Lucky, Drake, and Moose were all standing up here with me. Well, actually, Moose was at the end of the long line, standing just on the edge of the deck. We’d been too afraid he would capsize the floating dock if he stepped out onto it.

“Don’t worry, Nick. If he tries something, I’ll help you push him in,” Whiskey said just loud enough for Preacher to hear. The old man looked gratifyingly worried about that. Whiskey was big enough to push anyone in the lake except Jack or Moose.

The music started and a hush fell over the crowd. This was it. This was the moment that either all my dreams came crashing down around me or I got to live them out, forever. I closed my eyes tightly and then opened them just in time to see Melissa step through the sliding glass doors of the cabin.

She was here. She was going through with it. She didn’t run.

All the tension left my body in one fell swoop. I felt something else invade every pore. Every cell. Every atom.

Pride and possession.

Melissa was mine. Really and truly mine. And I couldn’t be prouder. I was never, ever going to let her go.

And holy hell, did she look good.

Brides in movies and magazines had nothing on my girl. The long dress rose just above the deck where it floated down from the bodice, gently skimming her curves. But the top, my God, the top hugged every inch of her luscious breasts, with a bit of lace above the sexy neckline to make it almost prim, but not quite.

There was no amount of lace on earth that was going to distract from her gorgeous curves.

Her hair was half up and half down, with a shoulder-length lace veil pinned to her shiny, honey-brown hair. The lace and her bouncy curls framed a face of pure beauty. She wore subtle makeup that only enhanced her porcelain skin and clear blue eyes. Eyes I could fall into. Eyes that said she was happy to be getting married. That she wanted me.

That she loved me, too.

I barely breathed as she walked serenely up the aisle toward me. She placed her hand in mine and everything snapped into place. I felt like I was complete. I felt like I was home.

“We are gathered together to celebrate the ill-conceived wedding of this delicate, beautiful flower to this complete degenerate and strain on society.”

I rolled my eyes as Preacher grinned at me, the wicked old bastard. Melissa looked totally shocked. I squeezed her hand and gave her a smile. Getting a dressing down from Preacher on your wedding day was a tradition. As long as he didn’t do his other routine, we were good.

“How on this green earth a lovely flower could be so cruelly plucked by such a pernicious, grade-A bastard is beyond my understanding. Only the good Lord knows why a sensible young lady could agree to marry a man with such ridiculous hair.”

He cleared his throat and brushed his long silver locks over one shoulder. I heard a muffled sound and looked at the bride. Her shoulders were shaking. Within a second, I heard it.

My almost-wife was laughing at me.

“But Nick does have some redeeming qualities,” Preacher said mournfully with an air of solemn doubt. “He is loyal to a fault. Faithful to his club and his brothers. He would take a bullet for any of you,” he said, reminding us all that he had, in fact, taken a bullet himself less than a year ago. I smirked. Preacher was a showoff to his core. It surprised me that the man hadn’t gone into showbusiness.

“If no one, including the bride, has any objections, I will continue.”

Preacher waited. And waited. And waited. The moment seemed to stretch forever.

Jack let out a snort, and that was it, everyone lost it. I looked around at all my traitorous friends. Janet was laughing so hard she was actually crying. Even Kaylie was laughing, the tiny baby in her arms jiggling up and down.

I sighed and waited for the hilarity to end.

“Since there are no objections, I have no choice but to continue,” he said with a rueful look at the crowd. “Nick, you swine, do you take this perfect young lady to be your wife, to have and to hold, through all that life might throw at you, for the rest of your life?”