I stand completely still, my stomach churning, as Deklan places one hand at the back of my neck and tilts my head toward his. He has to lean over quite a bit to reach me, and I wonder if I should try to stand on my toes to make it easier for him. I don’t. I can’t move. I stare into his eyes as he closes the gap between us. They’re pale blue and surrounded by long, black lashes. Cold. His intense look makes me shiver, and I close my eyes as he presses his mouth to mine.
His lips are warm, and he kisses me gently, lingering for a bit before he shifts to the side of my mouth and then runs his nose over my cheek.
“I’m going to take care of you,” he whispers into my ear.
His words echo through my head.
He’s going to take care of me.
Take care of me.
What does that mean?
“Take care” as in be there for me physically and emotionally? Provide and protect and all the other shit the judge said? Or does he mean something more sinister? Did Sean instruct him to “take care of me”?
Would Sean do that? Would he go through this ceremony just to set my father up and then have his henchman-groom kill me on the wedding night? Is he that sadistic?
I look over to him, and there’s a half-grin of self-satisfaction on his face. The lightning in his eyes flashes, and a single tear falls down my cheek.
Yes. Yes, he is.
Deklan turns to face the rest of the room, and I follow suit. Neil, Lucas, and the two unknown men clap slowly without actually looking at us, and the wedding is over.
The reception, if you can even call it that, consists of drinks from the globe-bar and a couple of trays of hors d'oeuvres. I spend the time at my new husband’s side as quiet panic builds up inside of me.
None of it feels real. There is no photographer, no dinner, no music or dancing. There’s no champagne. No one comes up and congratulates us. My mother is still in the same seat, staring blankly at the floor. Dad is helping himself to multiple glasses of whiskey.
Deklan doesn’t drink anything, and neither do I. I’m not sure if anyone cares that my twenty-first birthday is still a few months away or not, but I don’t even try to acquire any alcohol. Maybe I should. Maybe getting drunk would make all this more bearable.
It seems to work for my father.
One of the unnamed men that has been here since the start of the wedding beckons Deklan, and he walks away from me without a word. I watch him lean close to the man as they begin talking softly and then startle when Sean appears behind me.
“Well, isn’t this all just lovely?”
I stare at him, wondering what he expects me to say.
“I did go through some minor effort to pull this together,” Sean says. “Don’t you think you should thank me?”
“Thank you,” I reply quietly. I quickly look away from his eyes. They’re wide with stormy flashes inside the irises.
“I was pretty damn generous, really,” he says, continuing. “Neil definitely prefers cock over pussy, and I’m pretty sure Lucas has herpes. I could have done anything I wanted with you, even sold you off to the highest bidder. Yeah, I’d say you should definitely be thanking me”—he grabs my chin and tilts my head to look at him—“and mean it.”
“Thank you, Sean,” I say quickly. He narrows his eyes at me. “Really, thank you. I’m sure being married to you would have been better, but I’m certain you’re only doing what’s best for everyone.”
He looks shocked at my response for a moment, then smiles again.
“I know this is not what you were expecting, but you seem to be taking it all pretty well.”
“I’m fine,” I tell him. Forcing myself to breathe slowly, I look straight at him. I hope he can’t hear my heart beating. I don’t want him to know how terrified I am. “Deklan seems…nice.”
Sean snorts.
“For a killer.”
I swallow hard. I’ve conditioned myself not to think about such things.
“You realize there was no way I was ever going to marry you,” Sean says, grinning his maniacal grin. “You were my punishment, you know. Got some slut knocked up and had to send her away so no one would know the kid was mine. My father thought he could teach me a lesson—control me—by making me marry some small-time fuck-up’s daughter, but he couldn’t. I’d say next time, he’ll know better than to drink anything I’ve mixed for him, but it’s kinda late for that.”