Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 60826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“Maybe,” Bryn says, dark eyes full of loathing.
“I do not want your forgiveness," Craig says. “I just want to bear witness to the one thing I did right in my life.”
“You didn’t father her. She’s angelspawn.”
“One of them was angelspawn. One of them has returned to the Lord. I like to imagine the seed of my flesh lives on in her.”
Well, this is a disturbing way to have my existence discussed on this, the day of my wedding. My father is hoping that Jonah was of the angel and I am of his flesh and blood. I think we all know that’s highly unlikely. Jonah was always the polar antonym of angelic. But I don’t want to ruin his day. I want to celebrate mine, ours. This is my wedding day, and if I can’t play happy families with my estranged weird father today, it’s never going to happen.
“Believe whatever bonkers nonsense you need to in order to get through the day, but you are not welcome at my wedding,” Bryn bites out.
“Is not everyone welcome in the eyes of the…”
I know Bryn is struggling with the urge to kill Craig where he stands. I know this could easily ruin the day. I refuse to let that happen.
“Bryn, I forgave you for murdering my demon brother. Let’s just get married. Please. Before I change my mind,” I say.
“Can't have that," Bryn grunts. “Stay out of my eye line, old man.”
“Can do,” Craig agrees.
“Come," Bryn says, taking me by the hand. The organ swells as we cross the threshold of the church. He is going to walk me down the aisle, it seems, afraid that I’ll escape if he doesn’t bring me to the altar himself. I don't mind. Traditionalism has long gone by any number of waysides with the way we have lived our lives.
The chapel is full. Mostly of people who are vastly curious about me as the mad American daughter of Craig from produce. I have made so many scenes before them I can hardly count them all. I am a spectacle. I will be the talk of the town for as long as there is a town and tongues to talk. I am at peace with that.
The Brotherhood is at the front of the church, on both sides. Their presence is reassuring, like a steady guard looking out for me and Bryn. Thor is at the pulpit. He will be conducting the ceremony.
It begins plainly enough, readings from the Bible, as one might expect, and a sort of general blathering about. Honestly, I am not hearing a word from Thor’s mouth. I am too focused on Bryn. My savior. My tormentor. Soon to be my husband. The time for vows arrives, and finally he speaks.
“You are my angel,” Bryn says. “My salvation. My completion. My reason for being. I will love you. I will serve you. I will hold you forever.”
“And you, Nina Bright, do you take Elvis Bryn as your husband?”
Elvis? I mouth the word at him.
“You thought my name was actually Father Bryn?” He murmurs the question beneath his breath.
“I didn’t… I never thought about it.”
“They're waiting for you to say yes or no. Whatever takes your fancy,” he reminds me with a wink.
“Oh! Right! Yes! I do.”
My vow is not as flowery as his, but the fact I am capable of saying those words at all given all that has passed between us feels like a romantic triumph.
“I pronounce you man and wife,” he says. “You may kiss the bride.”
Bryn took some of my innocence on the altar right behind Thor. He can do a lot more than kiss me. But kissing me is what he does right now, thoroughly and deeply and to the general applause and approval of all present.
We join hands and leave the chapel together, now bonded as man and wife. Pictures are being taken. I hope that we both look happy, though I am sure that Bryn is burning camera lenses with his usual smoldering intensity and I am floating by his side, more joyful than I can express.
I can’t resist toying with him, though. I lean close and whisper in his ear as we pose for pictures.
“Do you think we got married too early? Given I didn't even know your name until we were at the altar, Elvis?"
“Call me Bryn," he says.
“I think Elvis is better. It suits you. Rockstar.”
He lets out a low growl, a tone that sends a bolt of pure excitement to the core of me. This will be our wedding night. Tonight, we are finally going to stop sinning and instead make legitimate love inside wedlock.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nina
“Who does this married pussy belong to?” Bryn growls the question in my ear as his cock sluices in and out of me with harsh and feral intensity, hammering his hard body inside me and against me, pounding me into the bed.