Page 15

In his own way, Dallas is as much of a rebel as Sebastien. We might be cousins, but we’re as close as brothers. He called me as soon as Jack gave him the orders to deliver a wedding invitation to Loni, and he filled me in on what happened after that everystep of the way. With an encyclopedic knowledge of the Order’s rules long beaten into him, he’s the one who reminded me that a blood oath trumps everything in our world.

When it comes to Dallas, he’ll do anything to stick up his middle finger at his father.

Me? I couldn’t care less what Jack thinks. Dallas knows the laws. Me? I know where the bodies are buried, what kind of skeletons are in the closets of prominent Owed, and how to make the numbers speak to me.

In Harmony Heights,Iam untouchable, and today? I’ll prove it.

More importantly, planners pivot.

Loni needs to walk out of here a married woman. I can’t let her marry Desmond, but look at me. I’m in a suit. I planned on convincing her to give me a second chance in two years… why not move up the timeline?

Suddenly, the church bells ring out. The muffled sounds of familiar organ music reaches us outside the closed doors.

I check my watch.

“They’re early,” I muse. “Someone must be antsy in there.”

Someone who wants to have this wedding over and done with before anyone can stop them.

Bas chuckles under his breath. “Desmond always was a bit premature. Ask any of the girls down at the Court. I’ve heard some shit about that little weasel.”

I’m not surprised about that. The Court—better known as The King's Court, an Order of the Owed’s gentleman’s club—is where members go to pick out one of the Used to enjoy. Not me. It didn’t seem right, fucking one of the club girls when, one day, I’d have Loni as my wife. I stuck to town girls, anyone who didn’t have any ties to the Order, during my early twenties. Now? I’m too busy with work, the Order, and plotting my future to worry about getting laid.

Bas, though? He’s never been shy about his relationships with the Used. Like me, like Dallas, he refused to Claim any of the Offering during the last eight Claiming ceremonies. Unlike me and Dallas, as the second-born son of one of the founding families, he doesn’thaveto. That’s Alexandre’s job, and I always thought his wedding would be the first of our inner circle.

Nope. Looks like that honor will belong to me.

Just like Loni will.

I remove the Tomcat, check the magazine, then clap Bas on his shoulder. “You coming to watch the show?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. But I’ll be right out here to see what happens after.”

Fair enough. I have a level of protection; both my lineage, and my Claim. Bas? He’s started enough shit over the years that Jack is just itching for a reason to kick him out of the Order. And while Dallas and I would never allow that to happen, that’s one fight that Bas does studiously avoid.

“Wish me luck.”

“As if you’ll need it.” Bas’s lips split into a grin. “Make those hours at the shooting range count, buddy.”

“Hey. Anything worth doing is worth doing right.”

Especially when forever is on the line.

With the pistol in my hand, I flash Bas a grin of my own, then start for the stairs that lead up to the church’s doors. I’ve spent far too many mindlessly boring hours inside of St. Catherine’s. The big wooden doors open right up to the back of the church, with confessionals and the holy water stand on one side, the votive candle rack on the other. Pews stretch out in front, lined up against a single aisle that leads to the altar.

A sculpture of Jesus Christ on a cross is posted on the wall, watching over the pulpit. The organist is hidden away somewhere, leaving the ghostly music to filter around the entire church.

As I approach the doors, the music gets louder. Instead of the hymns I’d grown up on, the wedding march comes to a close. Somewhere inside of St. Catherine’s, my Loni has just walked down the aisle to Desmond St. James.

That realization has me moving on autopilot. I don’t even think about it. I justgo.

Throwing open the door, stalking right through with the Tomcat in my hand, my gaze goes straight to the altar. There’s Father Francis, wearing his white vestments and embroidered stole. Desmond is in a suit, bored, looking like he’s simply attending just another business meeting instead of gazing raptly at the stunning vision across from him.

Like I do now.

Shit.

My heart skips a beat.