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When I flinch, he sighs. “I know. I loathe the term too. But it is only a symbol. Drinking Jesus’s blood might seem barbaric too, but Christians know it’s only grape juice.”

I exhale slowly. “Damian told you I’m a Christian?”

There’s a beat of silence. Then he softly says, “Yes.”

I adjust my position on the couch, bringing my legs up underneath me. “I’ll always keep my religion in my heart. Even if I have to go through the motions with this one.”

“That’s fine.” He leans in closer, lowering his voice. “You might not have to…go through the motions of this one for very long.”

My pulse quickens. What a strange thing to say.

Not a warning. Not a threat. Just…something else entirely.

But before I can ask what he means, he rises, his long robes shifting as he straightens. He extends a hand, gesturing for me to follow. “Come. It’s time.”

41

Damian

The chapel is drenched in candlelight, and the air is almost chokingly heavy with incense. At the center of it all, Ava kneels before me.

The sight nearly undoes me.

She’s so still—hands resting delicately on her thighs, head bowed in a quiet act of submission. And yet everything about her radiates strength. A paradox. A miracle.Mymiracle.

I want this over. I need this over.

Every moment feels like a gamble. The longer I wait, the more the fear creeps in. The fear that someone will take her from me. That this entire fragile arrangement will collapse.

Fuck Kane for putting these paranoid thoughts into my head. Everything will be fine. Gabriel has moved on to bigger plans, and the Sacred Light sanctioned my marriage to Ava.

Beside me, the Sacred Light raises his hands. His gold mask reflects the flickering candles. “Ava St. Clair, do you kneel willingly before this sacred altar? Do you offer your body andblood to the House of Thornecroft, to its future, and to its future prior?”

The pause that follows nearly kills me. This fucking ceremony just needs to end.

“I do,” she says solemnly.

The Sacred Light turns toward me. “And do you, Damian Cross, as future prior, accept this offering?”

My throat tightens.Offering.

The word is blasphemy.

The Sacred Light and I both ought to be worshipping her.

“I do,” I rasp.

The Sacred Light nods. “Then rise, Virgin of Thornecroft.”

She stands, and my heart pounds like I’ve run a marathon. When she lifts her eyes to mine—those beautiful, storm-gray eyes—my entire world stills.

She’s mine. My girl. My center of gravity.

I step toward her, taking her wrists in my hands. Her pulse races beneath my fingers, and I lower my voice just for her.

“From this moment on, your life is bound to mine. No one will ever hurt you. Not while I breathe.”

Her smile is trusting, and I press a kiss to her wrist, a silent vow running through my head.I’ll atone for all I’ve done, my precious girl. I swear it.