Page 128 of Desert Rain
Mostly.
“Put me down for death threat,” I said.
Edge grinned. “That’s love, brother.”
“It’s strategy.”
“Sure.”
I checked my phone. Checked the door. Checked the front windows. Checked the street.
Every minute she was gone, the fear crawled higher.
Not fear of marriage. Not anymore.
Fear she’d come out with clear eyes and say no.
Fear she’d realize a life tied to mine, even on paper, meant danger didn’t end at sunrise. It followed. It watched. It slept outside windows and waited in blind corners. Being my wife protected her from one kind of threat and painted a target for another.
Maybe she’d see that.
Maybe she’d be smart enough to walk.
The dressing room door opened.
The whole chapel went quiet.
Sienna stepped out.
And every thought I had burned to ash.
She stood under the ugly fluorescent hallway lights like someone had cut her out of a dream and dropped her into the wrong world. Regan had put her in ivory—not a full gown, nothing fussy or sweet. Short satin that hugged her waist and skimmed her thighs. Off-the-shoulder sleeves. A little veil tucked into her hair. White boots. My jacket was gone, replaced by a cropped leather one that somehow made her look both bridal and dangerous.
Her hair fell in soft waves around her face. Her mouth was painted a deep, soft red. The scrape on her arm had been covered. The dirt and blood were gone.
But her eyes were still hers.
Sharp.
Scared.
Brave anyway.
My throat worked.
Once.
Twice.
Nothing came out.
Edge whispered, “Damn.”
I nearly hit him on instinct.
Sienna’s gaze found mine across the room. Her chin lifted a fraction, like she was daring me to make a joke. Daring me to say something crude. Daring me to turn this into another distraction so she didn’t have to feel whatever had just slammed into both of us.
I couldn’t.
