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“I’m sorry your dress got ruined,” Lachlan whispers, plucking a red rose from my bouquet and sticking it in his lapel. Staring down at me with a teasing grin that makes him look even more handsome, he says, “Now we match. How about you marry me? You’re not a bargaining chip for anyone. And no one—” He brushes my face with the most tender touch I would think is impossible for such a brutally dangerous man. “—will ever hurt you again.”
“Stop!” Papa yells, waving his hand, but puts his gun away. “This is not necessary, enforcer. Don’t make me call your father.”
“My fatherisn’t in charge anymore,” Lachlan barks. “And no one, not himormy brother, tell me what to do. IwantKatriane.”
His words send shivers through me. The romantic in me wants to believe we made a connection last week, and he’s here because he has feelings for me. But I doubt a man with so much rage and who kills for a living can feel the kind of love I want in a husband.
He’s rescuing me. My own plan to stop this wedding failed.
I take the bullshit ring Rahill gave me and throw it on his corpse. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Lachlan.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lachlan
“Youmaynowkissthe bride,” Father Edward sputters, not meeting my eyes since I just committed murder in front of him.
He must be figuring out that Father Patrick’s loose lips about my confessions aren’t a result of nipping at the communion wine.
My men keep their guns trained on the crowd while Katya stares at me with glassy eyes and a blood-soaked wedding dress. It pains me to look at her face with all the bruises. I’ve been hit many times by eejits who dare to take a swing at someone my size. They don’t live to do it twice, but I know what a punch in the mouth feels like. I’m a tough, hardened son of a bitch, but Katya is delicate. She must be in fucking agony.
Dueling instincts war in my head to not touch her, but another one, stronger, more visceral, wants to claim her. Plus, grooms kiss their brides. And Katrianeismy bride.
Mine.
I lower my head because she’s so tiny compared to me. “I need to kiss you,” I rasp, and I wait for horror to flood her already bloodshot eyes.
Instead, they flare with a need that women can’t hide from me.
“Okay.” She delicately closes her eyes, one of them red and inflamed.
Her top lip is split and scabbed over. Anger fills me, but her smile, waiting for my kiss, sparks arousal through me. Slowly, I lower my mouth to press my lips to hers.
I softly kiss her, holding her face with my rough, bloodied hands. Our joined lips feel like the sky opening up after a vicious thunderstorm, making way for rays of sun that glow and bathe us in light. I’m awakened by this kiss. Brought back to life, better than new, but now more dangerous because I have a wife to protect. Fuck, now I get why my older brothers look more feral than ever these days. Adrenaline soars through me, and I feel like I can lift a fucking car. Okay, I can probably already lift a small one, now I might be able to toss it like a plastic toy.
Katya’s eyes flash open when I growl in pleasure. “That was…” She swallows, looking at me. “That was nice.”
I’ve interrogated enough people to know when someone is telling me what I want to hear. “It was, little one.”
Holy fuck, it reallywas.
She clears her throat while the priest rambles quickly to end the ceremony. “That was my first kiss.”
“Good girl.” I lean in and whisper, “Mine, too.”
I scratch out the name Rahil Nikitin on the marriage certificate and write in my own after Katya signs hers. I have to ask her what she wants to be called. I’ve only known her as Katya, but last week she told me her real name. I want my wife to be comfortable with me.
With the marriage certificate in my fist, the shaking priest backs away. I shove the license at Griffin. “Make sure this gets filed withmy name.” I want her to be legally mine.
“Aye, boss.” Griffin folds it and puts it in his jacket.
This marriage can be temporary or forever. I had no plans to take a wife, but Katya needed me. Plus, she plans to move to London.
“We cleared the church out, and the clean-up team is dealing with both the dead body and that hysterical woman. Koslov and his men are gone, too,” Connor Quinlan reports, holding an AR-15 against his chest. He’s on loan from Riordan as a favor to his older brother, Griffin.
Everyone looks shocked at what I just did. My phone buzzes, and I’m guessing it’s my brother, Kieran, with an angry text about myshotgunwedding. Seeing it’s a call from him, my breath stills. Wow, he’ssomad he can’t even type.
“Alo,” I say into the phone, all gruff.
