Page 151 of I am Dressed in Sin (Death by Daybreak MC 2)
Someone cranks the music as the party starts to amp up, spilling onto the deck, into the parking lot, the road. This is what draws so many lost souls to this life; there’s a feeling of camaraderie here. We’re a team, for better or worse. It feels to me like it’s more often shitty than not, but I am a cynical bitch sometimes.
It’s a good reminder that although we might be at war, we are not alone.
The might of the club is a heavy, powerful thing.
I stay with Beast inside the building, finding a relatively quiet corner where we can be more or less alone. Grainger and Sin remain nearby while Crown stays conspicuously absent. Bad feelings aren’t enough to act on, but one wrong move from Gaz, one spark of violence, and this entire situation will go up in flames.
“Where are we staying tonight?” I ask, because I’m not the one that made these arrangements. This part of the equation was left up to Beast. He stares down at me like I mean the world to him, like the planet spins on my axis, and he’s just an adoring sun watching from above.
“At the farmhouse,” he says, and my heart stutters a little. He means Crown’s farmhouse, my farmhouse. “But we’ll have it all to ourselves.”
Ouch. No wonder Crown is so upset. Not only does he not get the wedding and the wife of his dreams, but I’m going to have my wedding night in his house while he sleeps elsewhere?
I feel like a total dick. Maybe I’m the one with the problem here? Rather than him not loving me enough to accept these new circumstances, maybe I just don’t love him enough to let him go? Fuck.
Beast, perceptive monster that he is, seems to notice my wandering thoughts. He leans down and puts his pretty mouth up against the side of my neck, making my toes curl in my boots.
“There won’t be anybody around to hear you scream,” he whispers, licking the side of my throat. I put my hands on his shoulders to steady myself as his arms wrap around my waist. His mouth presses smoldering kisses to my pulse point, and I let my head fall back, relaxing into his touch. I’m baring my throat to this man, this fellow predator in the night.
My husband.
He could kill me right now if he wanted to, snap me like a twig.
But he won’t. Because he loves me. Because he’s given me his leash to hold.
Beast slants his mouth against mine, and we end up pressed to the wall in the corner, cloaked in shadows. His hands slide down my body to cup my ass, and then he’s lifting me up and my legs are going around him.
I’ve become one of those people, the sort of club barbarian that Giulia mocked, the kind who doesn’t care who’s watching. Guess she was right.
If I had a skirt or dress on still, I’d have probably let my new husband screw me right then and there. Only, the white leather pants I insisted on make that a much more difficult task. Doesn’t keep us from kissing though, from feeling one another up with greedy, questing hands. Beast’s hips rock into mine, grinding me against the wall, promising a repeat performance of the supply closet.
Our wedding night—our real wedding night—is going to be heavy and hot, sticky with emotion, rife with need. I can’t wait.
With a small growl of frustration, Beast eventually sets me back on my feet.
“I don’t much like you wearing pants,” he remarks in a low, dangerous sort of voice. That makes me laugh right there.
“Frankly, I’m not a huge fan of these pants right now either.” I lean back against the wall, secure in his jacket, in his attention, in the way his blue eyes flick away to search for threats before coming right back over to land on me again. I reach up a hand and tickle my fingers against his smooth chin. “I can’t decide if I miss the beard and want it back, or if I like this new look. If you get to decide whether I wear pants or not, do I get to decide how you wear your facial hair?”
“Mm,” he purrs, putting his forearm on the wall above my head. “I’m inclined to say no, because I really do like my beard.” He reaches up with his other hand and strokes his bare chin. “But you’re too pretty to deny anything to, you know that?”
I bite my lip. This is dangerous. Beast is dangerous. He’s temptation incarnate.
“How long do we have to stay here before we can leave?” I ask, and he lets out this low, husky chuckle.
“Cat wants us here most of the night. You’re a symbol to him, you know? New blood, new life.” Beast reaches out to cup the side of my face, and then pauses as a new song begins to play, one that I recognize.
