Page 206 of After the Burn

“For the seventh time,” Lucas replied, “she isn’t late.”

Beck paced in front of the altar. “She should be here.”

“She will be.” Lucas rolled his eyes.

“How do you know?”

It was all levels of disturbing to see a man like Beck whine like a little girl.

Lucas sighed. “Because she agreed to marry us.”

“Technically,” I inserted, “she only agreed after we tortured her for hours.”

Both men looked at me, and I adjusted my cuffs. “What?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call five orgasms torture.” Lucas smirked.

“That was only after she finally conceded.” Beck’s eyes grew heated at the memory. “I wonder if there’s anything else we want that she wouldn’t readily agree to.”

“We need to give it a little while.” I brushed a hand through my hair. “I expect our future bride to pay us back at some point.”

I glanced around the chapel, tuning out Beck and Lucas.

Thick wooden beams crossed overhead, dark with age, while afternoon sunlight spilled through narrow windows onto the worn floorboards. The building had been modeled after old Celtic churches, though the apocalypse had added its own touches—repaired hinges, mismatched glass, and weapons propped nearby, just in case.

At the front stood the enormous blue Celtic cross that had somehow survived everything. Flowers had been woven around its base. Real ones.

Wren’s doing.

Apparently, she had stripped half the settlement bare.

The rings were a special project of mine.

Four bands.

Forged less than a hundred yards from where we stood.

Using the old festival forge, the smith meticulously shaped each ring by hand from the silver we had scavenged. In the metal, one could discern minuscule hammer marks, preventing a perfectly smooth finish.

I’d told him to leave them. Perfect had never suited us.

Beck’s ring was slightly wider; Lucas’s had a narrow-beveled edge. Mine was plain. Taryn’s carried three tiny lines worked into the inside of the band. One for each of us.

Beck must be a mind reader. “I still think my ring should have spikes.”

“No,” Lucas and I answered together.

Beck scowled. “That’s what I get for having two old-ass men as co-mates.”

“No,” we answered in unison again.

Beck stuck his tongue out. “I like it. So, you two can fuck right off.”

The chapel doors opened, and every thought in my head disappeared.

Taryn stood in the doorway.

The dress was simple, fitted through her waist and then falling loose around her legs. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head, and the expression on her face suggested she was about three seconds from turning around and running back out the door.