Page 140 of Jace
It’s not part of the ceremony, but it feels right. It’s her decision.
Axel nods. “Will you, Nick, honor Jace’s queen, Vivian?”
Nick vows, “With my heart, body, and soul, I will protect her.”
I have no doubt he will. But for the first time… I don’t feel the constant, haunting instinct that Nick will need to.
Gently, Axel cups Vivian’s shoulder and mine, concluding, “We declare this union sacred. God, have mercy and save us. Protect and preserve us for many years to come.”
Years?
Hell, our entire lives, we’ve survived in the darkest shadows of a threat. We’ve made it this far—together.
But now with all this love in the room, with all this light and every throne filled, the shadows are dying.
We’re almost free.
An hour later,after vodka shots, caviar, and Korovai bread, Mom and Sasha leave with kisses to every cheek.
Thankfully, I stop Nash and Vale at the door before they do.
“Wait.” I grab Nash’s suit sleeve. “Stay for this next part.”
Nash eyes my hand on his arm. “You know I’ll do almost anything with you, but not this. Not with Alena here.”
I glimpse his gorgeous daughter, cuddled with Loch across the room. They’re wrapped around each other and laughing with Vivian. Their bond with her is instant.
“We’re not doingthat… yet. Just stay for the photo shoot. We’re not complete if you both miss it.”
Vale tugs his other arm. “Told you, my king. Jace wantsallof us for this part.”
Nash lowers his menacing brows. “You expect me to pose in tighty-whities in front of my daughter?”
Alena calls out from across the room, “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, Dad.” Leave it to a lioness to hear everything.
“You know what, dammit…” I start sliding my black jacket off, proclaiming, “Yeah, Idoexpect it. I’ve proudly served in every initiation, and now it’s your turn.” I turn to the room. “It’s every king’s turn. Strip down to your Calvins, men.”
Vivian’s jaw drops. Yeah, she knew this would happen, but can’t believe it.
“Question is, Smokeshow.” I unbutton my shirt, giving her a coy grin. “Do you want us inwetunderwear?”
Her eyes ignite, tempted, but with Alena here, she laughs, aiming for her camera bag. “It’ll be hard enough fitting seven kings into the shot, and nearly impossible with your seven swords rising too.”
Delphine bolts for the credenza. “This calls for champagne.”
“Here, here.” Ruby joins her.
“Bring on the vodka.” Alena fills her crystal glass while Wren claps from her throne.
“Yes, my kings, make it a strip show!”
“Make that a hell no!” Nash barks, tugging off his jacket as stoically as possible. But he winks at Wren. He’s her second king. They’re close.
Despite his protest, itiswhat we look like—a male strip show—with every king undressing, leaving our finest threads on our thrones.
Zar, looking dominant, still wearing his black suit, smirks at us balled into our white boxer briefs. “My, my, men,” he boasts, “way to make your queens happier than woodpeckers in a lumber yard.”
I glance around, agreeing. We are a helluva sight: seven jacked, inked men in their tight underwear. And yeah, our wood hangs obviously.
