Three years since Brianna went to prison, Landon followed, and Salazar’s pretty little empire started collapsing under the weight of every girl the Saints and Sinners dragged into daylight.
Dad and Brianna’s mother called once, mostly to ask if this would “reflect badly” on them, then disappeared again like neglect was a family tradition.
We married one month after we met. The wedding was held in the clubhouse backyard, under string lights and pine trees, with every Damned Saint and every old lady there to witness it.
Nya, Ghost’s wife, made my bouquet, and Sage, Havoc’s wife, baked the cake.
Viper cried and threatened two prospects for noticing. It’s his thing, or so I heard.
Havoc walked me halfway down the aisle because Dad didn’t deserve the job, and Shadow met me at the end like he’d been waiting his whole life with his hands clenched and his eyes burning.
Now we have a baby asleep across the hall, a house tucked on the edge of Saint territory, and a marriage that still feels like he kissed a claim into my soul and dared the world to touch it.
Jayce takes the onesie from my hands and sets it on the dresser.
“Jayce,” I say, mostly because his name is the only defense I have.
His hand slides to my waist. “Love.”
My stomach dips.
“What?”
His mouth brushes my ear. “The house is quiet.”
“For now.”
“Then we use for now.”
“That is very romantic.”
“I’m not feeling romantic.”
Oh.
Well.
That answers that.
He turns me toward the bed with sure hands.
I look up at him, trying for serious. Failing because my husband is all hard muscle, dark hunger, and silver at his temples, with gray eyes hot enough to turn my bones liquid.
His hand slides up my back, strong and rough, then closes around the nape of my neck.
“Love.”
He kisses me hard.
The kind of kiss that reminds me he was never civilized, only controlled. His mouth takes mine, his beard scraping my skin, his hand at my neck keeping me exactly where he wants me.
I melt for about two seconds.
Then I bite his lower lip.
He growls.
That sound still hits me everywhere.
