Page 10 of Bloody Wedding (The Order of the Owed #1)

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ADRIAN

S he tastes just the way I remember.

I lingered on our kiss after Father Francis finally gave me his blessing, allowing me to kiss my bride.

I tipped Loni back in my arms, holding her tight so that she didn’t fall and couldn’t escape my lips, and I kissed her with all the unsaid promises that come along with the stock-standard wedding vows.

There wasn’t time for us to write our own.

I made a mental note that we would have to have a vow renewal before our wedding reception, but once Father Francis announced to the assembled crowd—to Dallas, just Dallas—that he pronounced Loni and me as man and wife, I kissed her, then whisked her right to the car waiting for us in the parking lot.

It was full when I parked. Now? It’s empty, and if she seems surprised that there isn’t an array of squad cars waiting to arrest me for first-degree murder, she’s smart enough not to remark on it.

Ten years away from Harmony Heights has made her forget who owns this town.

So long as it happens within the town’s borders, I could walk up to anyone affiliated with the Order, take them out, then flash my palm and it would be like it never happened.

We police our own, and even if I wasn’t Jack’s nephew, I had every right to gun down Desmond the way I did.

I swore an oath in blood, and he paid for trying to break it with his.

The way I see it, it’s just another figure to add or subtract.

A longtime friend subtracted from my life in order to add the woman I’ve always considered mine.

His death was Desmond’s fault. He never should have gone after Loni, and now all of Harmony Heights knows she is abso-fucking-lutely off-limits.

It’ll spread like wildfire through the town.

I know that much. Everyone at the wedding was affiliated with the Order, one way or another.

While half of the crowd left because they didn’t want to get involved in personal business within the society, the other half must have run straight to the Fortress to tell everyone what they saw.

I’m expecting a call from Jack sooner or later.

Dallas stuck around St. Catherine’s, offering to do the clean-up for me, but that’s not all.

As a wedding gift to me and Loni, he promised to keep his father off my back until at least tomorrow.

That way we have a wedding night before I have to explain myself to the King.

Not that I’m worried. I’m not. I was in the right, and he knows it.

Oh, no. The only thing I’m worried about is Loni. Loni and her reaction to becoming my new wife.

The only comment she had after we left the church was, “I guess Dad decided to go home.” She said it quietly as she took in the empty lot, and when her body seemed to sag under the weight of her bloody wedding dress, I eased an arm around her and helped lead her to my car.

She didn’t say another word until I pulled into the circular drive of my three-story home. A softly whispered, “Yours,” that I answered with a very firm, “Ours.”

I helped her out of the car, looping my arm through hers so that we could walk up the steps together. Then, because I consider us married now, I hefted her up in my arms so that I could carry my bride over the threshold.

That was about fifteen minutes ago. Since then, she’s drifted from room to room, taking in the first floor with a strange expression on her pretty, pretty face.

She’s in shock, I know she is, and—if she’s anything like the Loni I remember—there will be hell to pay when she finally comes out of it, but for now, I follow behind like a lovesick puppy dog as she meanders in wobbly heels through the front room, the kitchen, the dining room, the living room, and, finally, the hall outside of the first-floor bathroom.

I watch her take it all in, marveling over our place.

And it’s our place. The moment I walked out of my parents’ home for the final time as a resident, I took the money in my account and found a house that would be the starting point to my future; the future I would one day have with this woman.

Deep down, I always planned on making it work out between us.

If I couldn’t go after her right away, I would when I had to, and I’d bring her back here.

Just like I did tonight.

If it wasn’t Desmond who I had to eliminate for trying to Claim her, there would’ve been someone else.

For Loni’s sake, I kept my interference to strict blackmail and threats of extortion to erase any of her other lovers.

With Desmond, I could’ve bought him off if necessary, but because it was Desmond…

he paid with his life instead of cash, just like any other Owed would who crossed me.

In the hall, there’s a large oval antique mirror that I bought because the gilded frame reminded me of Loni’s delicate beauty.

Sometimes, I would walk by it, and I’d see myself reflecting back, wishing I could catch a flash of her wavy strawberry-blonde hair, her striking hazel eyes, and those adorable freckles dotting the bridge of her nose.

It’s there now. She’s staring at her face in my mirror, prodding some stray blood spatter that managed to decorate her cheek.

She hasn’t changed yet. A stray lock of hair has fallen free of her elaborate updo. The diamond piece has shifted a little. The dress, of course, is ruined.

Luckily, I called in a few favors among the Owed.

I say favors… I reached out to those in my book, those in my ledgers, those who wouldn’t want their secrets getting out, and I asked for one of my own.

I didn’t want anyone interfering with my wedding to Loni tonight, but if it all went off without a hitch like I planned, I would be bringing her home with me.

She would already be out of sorts, planning on marrying one groom, going home with a different one.

At the very least, I wanted her to have some sense of familiarity.

While Peter Dougherty was at the wedding—a visible prop to remind Loni why she was going through with it—I had eight men remove every trace of the woman who had been staying with him.

I left her SUV parked in his driveway for the moment, but everything else? It’s in a spare bedroom because, well, let’s just say that I’m not necessarily the optimistic sort. More pragmatic than anything, and I’m not playing for just one night.

I’m playing for keeps.

Forever.

And if that means our marriage starts like so many of the Order’s arranged marriages, so be it. I expect it, though that doesn’t mean I won’t at least try to put her at ease. After all, she did just watch me kill a man. I don’t blame her at all for being wary.

Especially since she’s Loni, and as much as I’m addicted to this woman, I know I’ve fucked this all up since the beginning. Hopefully, this is a new one, and we can start over.

Huh. Maybe I have a bit of a silly optimistic streak after all…

I wait until she glances away from the mirror to break the silence. “If you want to take a shower before we go to bed, I can help you out of that dress.”

I was going for gentle. Fuck. Do I even know how to be gentle? Probably not since, the moment I make the genuine offer, clarity finds its way to her eyes. I hear the words again, and I can only guess how she interpreted them.

I basically just said I’d help her strip so that she could freshen up before we got to bed together.

And that’s exactly how she understood it.

Her eyes go wide as she steps away from me, moving toward the living room. “Bed? Oh, no, no. I’m not sleeping with you, Adrian. Not again. Never again.”

I make a non-committal sound to that. Oh, I have every intention of getting this woman under me as soon as possible. Is that tonight? Probably not. Not even I am that big of a dick to try and convince her to fuck me after the day she’s had.

At least, that was my plan… until she nibbles on her bottom lip and she has my complete attention.

Then she sighs before saying, “I have to be honest with you. I have a boyfriend,” and that’s all I’m thinking about right now.

I grit my teeth, giving nothing away.

Boyfriend.

She’s full of shit. I would know if she was seeing someone, and if it got serious, I’d end it. I always have. She’s only throwing this in my face because she thinks that might get me to release her from being my bride, but if so? She’s dead wrong.

Besides, Loni dating someone didn’t stop me from fucking her before. Why would she think it would stop me now when her boyfriend is fictional?

Still, the reminder stings. I know damn well she only agreed to date Desmond to make me jealous, and if it worked… if that’s part of the reason I looked forward to having to pull the trigger myself when Nicholas Reed flaked on me… well, us Hellers do tend to hold a grudge.

I pause a moment, then flick a curl from out of my eyes. “Not anymore you don’t,” I tell her, letting her have her fantasy. “You’re my wife now. I’m your husband. There won’t be anyone else for either of us anymore.”

She frowns. “No Used?”

“No Used,” is my firm response.

That surprises her, but she recovers quickly. “What about you? To marry me today the way you did… you were still available? No Offering in ten years?”

I know what she’s really asking me. Unfortunately for Loni, she hasn’t been stalking me over the years. She doesn’t know the history of my love life like the way that I obsess over hers. I don’t fault her for wondering, though I am irrationally pleased that she cares enough to ask.

“None,” I assure her.

“What about Haven?”

I should’ve known that was coming. One of the last times we were together, she made it a point to remind me that Haven Smith was meant to be my Offering. I let her believe that because I was too worried that I’d scare Loni off by making it clear that I would have her or I would have no one.

Loni left. For ten years, it had been no one, but even if I did what Jack wanted me to do, even if I decided to Claim Haven, I wouldn’t have. I’m not Desmond. I won’t break the bro code, and Haven? Even before what happened to the poor girl, she belonged to Connor.

For Loni to mention her childhood friend so easily, I’d bet she has no idea what Haven went through last year. All of my research tells me that their friendship ended when Loni ran so it wouldn’t surprise me if she didn’t know.

Should I tell her?

No, I decide. Let her get comfortable with me first. Then, if she decides she wants to be part of the Order again for good, I’ll call up Connor and call in a favor. For now, though, I decide to be honest with my wife.

After all, the best marriages start off with a tenet of honesty. That’s why one like my parents have, or Jack and Aunt Reese had, are always doomed to fail…

“I never wanted Haven, Loni. No other Offering, either, and definitely not any of the Used.” A hint of doubt creeps into her tired, guarded expression.

Suddenly, there isn’t anything I won’t do to see that doubt erased.

“I will make this as clear as I can: today was no accident. I only ever wanted you.”

And now I have her.

Her distrustful eyes go even wider than before. “Don’t tell me that the last time you got laid was?—”

“Of course not. And I know the same is true for you. But that was just sex, princess. What we had… what we have… is so much more than that.”

I’ll make sure of it.

My wife doesn’t seem to agree.

“You made my life hell, Adrian. I thought I got away… that I escaped . But, look at you now… you’re doing it again.”

“Oh, Loni. Call it that if you must, but I never stopped.” And she’ll figure that out sooner or later. “But that’s the past. Put it where it belongs: behind us.” I step closer to her, getting rid of the gap existing between us. “We have the rest of our lives to look forward to.”

I’m ready to forget the past. To forget the mistakes I made, and the long, lonely years in between.

I am.

I don’t think she is.

Wrapping her hands around her middle, ignoring the darkish brown blood stains, she says to me, “You really want me to believe that you waited all this time for me?”

She’s not letting this go. Fair enough.

I think back.

“Four years,” I finally answer.

Her pretty forehead furrows. “What?” She nibbles her bottom lip again, a temptation if I ever saw one. Her taste lingers in my mouth, but I’m dying for another hit. “Four years? Is that how long we have to stay married before I can go?”

She can’t honestly believe that.

Sure, there are some arranged marriages between Owed and their Offerings that end amicably. No divorce, of course. They’ll still be married in the eyes of the Order, but they can live separate lives on their own.

That won’t be us, and I make sure she knows it.

“Oh, I’m never letting you go,” I tell her, my tone light though my words are a fucking promise. “I was just telling you exactly how long I’ve been specifically waiting for you. Four years.”

Almost to the day.

I was twenty-five. Loni had just turned the same age. It was her birthday, and I was feeling melancholy, missing her. In between clients, I was obsessively stalking her social media pages when I noticed that she posted a picture with a guy.

There was a caption: “Our hard launch as a couple”, followed by a comment he added beneath it that said, happy birthday, babe .

I almost smashed my phone to bits, throwing it against the nearest wall of my office.

I knew that face. That smarmy face belonged to a gym bro with dark blond hair who worked with my Loni. I was assured theirs was just a co-worker relationship, that there wasn’t anything between Loni and Bradley.

Maxwell and Dimitty’s has a very firm “no fraternization” policy; I know because, when Stephen approached them on my behalf to form a partnership with the Owed, I had them add it. So, once I cooled down, I made a few phone calls.

A week later, I had him transferred to an office across the ocean. Their relationship didn’t last the rest of the month.

That was the last man she ever posted on her socials.

As for me, the jealousy that I experienced when I realized that Loni entered into a semi-serious relationship made me lose the last of my interest in any woman that wasn’t her.

I haven’t been with anyone since, and though I’ve been dealing with one hell of an erection since St. Catherine’s, I focus on what’s important.

Like getting Loni out of that fucking dress.