The Mistress Bride

'Why this night, in particular?' Evie questioned curiously. They had done this many times before after all.

'Because of this,' he muttered, reaching out to take hold of her hand and bringing it to his mouth. 'Mine,' he breathed, taking a biting grip on her wedding ring at the same moment that he entered her. It was such a

possessive, pagan, passionate thing to do that Evie laughed as her long legs wrapped themselves around him so she could draw him in deeper. 'Barbarian,' she accused him.

It never occurred to her to question the thousand-year memory he had just laid claim to. But that was because she didn't need to. Kismet was like that, answered questions that most people would find absurd.