Page 146 of I am Dressed in Sin (Death by Daybreak MC 2)
He smiles at me, and my heart skips a whole beat, leaving me suspended in time.
His blue eyes meet mine as Cat—because you know the asshole is smug enough to be ordained—begins the ceremony. Beast takes both of my hands in his and holds them while Cat talks. Whatever he says, I’m barely listening.
Instead, I memorize that moment.
I memorize the shape of Beast’s smile, the perfect sandy blond color of his hair, the smell of the smoky breeze. Sunlight falls across the pair of us, leaving the other three men in shadow. But it doesn’t matter because I can still see them.
I can see Grainger frowning hard, the muscles in his neck and hands tense. I can see Sin stoic and emotionless until he catches my eyes, and then smiles crookedly. I can see Crown, like a stone wall devoid of all emotion. He won’t look at me, but that’s okay.
Today isn’t about him.
I turn my attention back to Beast.
We keep our gazes on one another as Cat finishes up his relatively short speech. We’re bikers, okay. We don’t do long, dry monologues. Everybody here is eager to get to the procession, to the drinking, the all-night partying.
Nellie asked me a few days ago if Beast and I would like to write vows for today.
We both declined.
Whatever vows need be said will be said in private. Neither of us is the type to air our emotions in public. Beast does, however, provide me with another gold ring—likely made from that same championship belt—before swapping the engagement ring from my right to my left hand to join it.
In the pocket of my borrowed dress, I have a plain gold band to put on his finger as well. Since he also had this made, it slides right over his big finger without a hitch.
“Y’all are husband and wife now—thank fuck,” Cat says, nodding his chin at Beast. “Kiss the bride, and let’s be done with this.”
As with everything else in this shotgun-style wedding, I expect the kiss to be perfunctory at best.
I am dead wrong on that end.
Beast slips his right hand into my hair, tugging free the pins that Reba so carefully placed. She lets out a small sound of disapproval from behind me, but I barely notice. My dark curls tumble loose, cascading over Beast’s hand as he cups the back of my head and pulls me to him.
I don’t have to get up on my tiptoes because he leans down, closing the distance between us in a way that only he could, like a shadow eclipsing the sun. His scent, like a fine cup of Earl Grey with just a dash of milk, like ancient ink and the pages of yellowing tomes, sweeps over me at the same time his left arm encircles my waist.
My breath releases in a rush as I close my eyes and Beast’s mouth meets mine, a cathexis of ardency and fervor, of demanding need and overwhelming love. He’s been here for me all along, just waiting, watching. As patient as a predator in the night. As deadly. As unexpected.
My arms slide around his neck as the crowd erupts in hoots and hollers, catcalls and whistles. Lewd comments are thrown along with scattered ball bearings, tiny metal orbs that gather around our feet as the crowd chucks them like rice at a traditional wedding. The club likes to carry these things around in bags and, if anyone gets too close to their bike while on the road, they’ll chuck a handful at them.
Appropriate.
I don’t really think much about it in that moment, too consumed by a kiss that’s all the more poignant because of the wait, the anticipation, the need. Beast’s tongue presses between my lips, hot and fiery, a hellacious intrusion that tastes like forever, like protection, like love.
Palladio by Escala begins to play, as per my request.
I can feel the surge of energy from the crowd feeding into us, encouraging Beast to pull me closer to him, kiss me harder. His hand in my hair remains gentle enough, kneading my scalp as his tongue claims me in a way I’ve been dreaming about for years.
When he pulls back, I almost collapse from the overwhelming surge of need that ricochets through me. If I don’t satisfy it soon, I’ll die. It will quite literally poison me from the inside out.
“Sugar,” Beast says, helping me out of my white jacket. He passes it over to Sin before slipping his vest off and helping me into it.
His eyes when they meet mine are full of fire.
We are not going to make it to the wedding night—not officially.
“Alright, alright,” Cat says, gesturing down the aisle. “Let’s ride.”
Beast takes my hand and guides me away from the altar; I can’t resist one, last look over my shoulder, just to make sure they’re behind me. The other three. Just as important. Just as needed.
