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“Shh,” Avery says, and she puts my ring on, too. The weight of it is familiar, like I’ve had it all my life. Maybe I have. I recognize it. It’s the matching ring to the one I just gave Avery. His and hers.Til death do us part.
Then my dad saysYou may kiss your bride.
It’s my first taste of Avery as a Montague, and it’s better than food after being starved. It’s better than water after being parched. All those old wounds heal themselves. I don’t care if it sounds like bullshit—it’s true, love conquers all. She puts her arms around my neck and sighs into my mouth and everything falls away except the sweetness of her.
It’s over, I think wildly. There’s no more war between us. There’s no more fucking feud between Capulets and Montagues. It’s done. It’s all fucking done. We are one.
It’s not over. I know that, on an intellectual level. But as the commune—our wedding party—breaks into applause and cheers, it’s easy to believe it, even if for only a moment in time.
The moment is so short, so fleeting. It’s the happiest I’ve ever been.
And then, in an instant, everything shatters.
It’s a tiny dot in the sky, at first. It could be an eagle, or an errant balloon that’s slipped loose from a child’s grip.
But it’s neither of those things.
It’s a helicopter.
A helicopter carrying the people who want to shatter our union. The enemy.
Avery’s family.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
AVERY
Rome takes my hand, and we run.
Time presses down on us, squeezing the air from my lungs at the same time our freshly-inked marriage tries to flood me with joy. I want to breathe in the hot desert morning, I want to bask in the sun from the clear sky overhead, I want to love this moment. Savor it. Rome promised me he’d take me to heaven if we survived, and he kept his word. This is everything and more. My lungs tighten with anxiety but my body buzzes from the closeness of him. My new husband.
Avery Capulet is dead. Long live Avery Montague.
We run for the cabin at a dead sprint. My wedding band feels strange on my finger for how light it is, but I want it to feel heavier. I never want to forget. Never, ever.
I belong to him now.
He belongs to me.
Nobody can deny it.
I force myself firmly back into the moment. These last, precious moments. I’ve been here before, with Rome in the basement, knowing that I was looking at him for the last time. Touching him for the last time. This is different, but it feels the same—and then that feeling tumbles out of me and I leave it behind in the dirt.
Rome yanks me into the cabin with all his strength and kicks the door closed behind us. No time, no time. He backs me up against the door and shoves my dress up to my waist. My wedding dress. He whips his shirt over his head. I chose my nicest panties today, and Rome rips them right off my body. He has a savage, animalistic look in his eyes. A focus I’ve never seen. He feels it too. He feels the helicopter getting closer. He feels this all coming to an end. No—not an end. A new beginning.
He falls to his knees and pushes my legs apart while I hold my bunched dress in shaking fists. Rome’s tongue is rough on the most private part of me, the burning hot bundle of nerves between my legs, and he lets out a low moan that vibrates through all of me. I wish he’d stay there. But I want him to do other things more. I want him to make this final. I want him to consummate this marriage with me as the clock ticks down dangerously fast.
As if he can read my mind, he stands up, hauls me against him, and lifts me into his hands.
The door is his only boundary and he goes for it at full speed, knocking my back against it with a booming thud. He shoves his cock into me in one hard stroke. I sink down on it. My dress falls around us, the only flimsy shield that stops the outside world from seeing us–we are in a house made of glass, after all. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem as if anyone has followed us here, with the rest of the commune having headed for the other side of the property as soon as it became apparent the chopper was trying to land here. I can’t hold onto Rome and the dress at the same time and oh, fuck, that’s good. It’s so good. We’re a perfect fit, in that he’s big enough to stretch me without real pain and strong enough to hold me up while I buck and roll my hips.
There’s nothing but sunlight. There’s nothing but desert and trees and Rome, fucking me. The cool press of the door against my back. The flower crown on my head. His thick cock, taking me. Again, again, again. The blunt tip of it hits my g-spot and all of me clenches around him. He bends his head forward and presses his lips to my neck. A kiss, hard and hot. Another one. I come around him, biting down on his shoulder as I moan loudly.
“Fuck, Avery, fuck, fuck—” He pumps into me like there’s no tomorrow. For me, there is no tomorrow. There’s only the next breath. Only the next second. Think beyond that and I’ll lose it. I’ll just lose it. Because another orgasm gears up, pleasure building down low, and I hit my head on the door from throwing it back.
“Don’t come,” I chant into his ear. “Let me, let me, let me—”
And I do.
