Page 20 of Bloody Wedding (The Order of the Owed #1)

ELEVEN

MONDAY

LONI

M onday came way quicker than it had any right to.

I’ve now officially been Mrs. Loni Heller for a week. Officially… okay, it’s not official official. We haven’t received a copy of our marriage license yet, though Adrian made me sign that last week, so my license still lists my real name as Avalon Dougherty.

The fake that I’ve been using is gone. In the trash most likely, along with the hopes that I could go back to being plain, old, boring Marie Howard again.

I’m not. I’m Loni. According to my husband, his Loni. I’m wearing his ring, though he promises I’ll have a bigger diamond and a better band once the jeweler he hired finishes the job.

Because, like me, Adrian had no idea that he would be a married man come June 24th. He figured it out right around the time I got that invitation to my own wedding, and because Dallas kept him in the loop all along, he made a plan.

He wasn’t lying when he said it wasn’t an accident. Over dinner last night, he even casually mentioned that he tried to hire an outsider assassin so that I wouldn’t have to watch it as Desmond died in front of me at Adrian’s hand the way I did.

How do I tell him that, once I got over the shock of it, I was kind of a little flattered that, after all these years, he still considered me ‘his’ enough that he killed my groom so he could take his place?

I don’t, that’s how. Because if I did? I’d be stuck. His vow that he’ll never let me go… I have no doubt in my mind that he’ll stand firm, even if I still don’t understand why this is so important to him.

He could have anyone in Harmony Heights, but he wants me to believe that he waited for me? That, four years ago, he decided he would come after me once we were both thirty, and then I’d be his for good? That, with that decision, he’s been celibate just as long?

I can’t see how he’s lying, but at the same time… how can that be the truth?

I don’t know. I don’t ask, and I definitely change the subject when he reminds me that I’ll be spending the night in our room—because Adrian insists that his bedroom will eventually be ours the same way that this house is, according to him—because, whether he thinks I’ve forgotten or not, I haven’t .

For the last week, I’ve buried myself in work.

I refused to speak to my dad when he finally got the nerve to make sure I was okay, though I did listen to his message and know that he is.

I’ve eaten most of my meals with Adrian if only because he’s a surprisingly good cook, Mrs. Gammond is amazing, and he has excellent taste in take-out when neither one is available to man the stove since he’s assured me that, as his husband, it’s his responsibility to feed his wife.

I think he’s worried about me. I’m usually of an average size, but after I was forced back to Harmony Heights, I dropped ten pounds in two weeks from a combination of stress, nerves, a loss of appetite, and pure stubbornness that kept me going days at a time without eating so that I could avoid Dad’s sorry expression whenever he looked at me.

Most of that ten pounds came from my face and my ass, and it was almost as noticeable as the bruise that finally faded.

I couldn’t hide the gaunt look to my cheeks with foundation, though I tried. And I might’ve been too nervous to eat that much my first few days, once I got a little used to the idea of being stuck here, I ate if only to get him to shut up about feeding me.

Plus, I’ve been lonely for so long, I actually started to hunger for company almost as much as my next meal.

Even if that company is Adrian Heller.

I haven’t left the house yet. For one reason, my car is still at Dad’s.

For another, I’m waiting for the whispers around my bloody wedding to die down a little.

I remember what it’s like to be the main character of the Harmony Heights’ gossip mill.

It’s not fun. I’d rather hide out until someone else steals the show.

I’m not a prisoner. I could leave, but I just don’t want to. Eventually, I’ll have to. Whether I agree with it or not, being an Offering—and the wife of an Owed—comes with duties and expectations that I’ll have to fulfill if I want to keep this position.

And I have to. I have to be the one who wins. For Dad’s sake… for mine… when it comes to this marriage, it’s unfortunately ‘til death do we part’, but that death? It won’t be mine.

Adrian married me. I’ll make him regret it if I have to, but until I see which way the wind will blow, I have to follow the Order’s bylaws to a tee.

And that includes spending one night in Adrian’s bed every week.

Now, I don’t have to fuck him in it. I just have to sleep by his side, but for me? That’s worse. It’s something I always longed for, cuddling up next to him after sex was done, but that was impossible. We were in the middle of a hidden affair. Pillow talk and snuggles were out of the question.

No. The most I got was a deep kiss, a pat on the ass, and a reminder that he’d be looking for me soon because, damn it, he was so fucking addicted, he couldn’t stay away for long.

Silly Loni. I fell for it, too. I believed him. And while I was at least pretty confident that I wasn’t one of plenty that he sought out when his dick was hard, I always felt so… so… used after. Before long, I ended every encounter with Adrian in the shower, as though I could wash myself clean.

I took one right before dinner, a reminder to myself that I can’t forget the past no matter how much he thinks I should. There have been moments over this last week where, for a few seconds, I remember the boy I once loved.

The boy who broke my heart.

It hurts, even now all these years later, but if a casual phrase or a heated stare from my husband propels me into the past, what will his warmth, his scent, the feel of his body close to mine… what will that do to me tonight?

I’m not planning on fucking him, but I hadn’t planned on doing it the first time he seduced me when I was seventeen.

Or the second.

Or the third…

I’m going into tonight with my eyes open and my legs closed. At least, that’s what I tell myself as I climb into Adrian’s bed wearing a t-shirt, sleep pants, and a full set of underwear. It’s no chastity belt, but hopefully it’s close.

Part of me hoped that I could knock right out before Adrian finished up whatever he was doing in his third-floor study. He had to do some work after dinner, and—with one final reminder—told me that I should wait for him in our room.

It’s after ten, but I’m way too keyed up to sleep.

Any sound, from the AC to the settling of the large house, seems like Adrian walking down the hall toward me.

I chided myself when he still never showed, but as much as I wanted to say ‘screw it’, and go back to the bed I’ve made mine over the last week, I refuse to move.

If I break the Order’s laws, how will Adrian react? Will he tell Jack he made a mistake? I doubt it, but he’s been so… nice this week, I’m afraid I’ll see a return of the bastard who made my school years a living hell.

He’s plotting something. Do I know what? Not even a little. That makes me more determined to find a way out without jeopardizing my dad’s safety, and if I mentioned that it looks like the Order condones murder these days… who knows? Maybe Adrian will think twice about being a dick to me again.

Oh, no. I think he just wants to use his dick in me…

He doesn’t hide his attraction to me. If there’s one thing I can admit, it’s that Adrian has never made fun of my appearance.

He’s drawn to it for reasons I’ve never quite fathomed, and it’s obvious that he has every intention of sleeping with me the moment I give him any sign that I’ll welcome him.

Well, he can wait forever, as far as I’m concerned. He used sex to control me once. I… I just can’t let him do it again.

But, I tell you, it would be so much easier if I wasn’t so damn attracted to him .

There’s a lamp on a nightstand that I’ve kept on so that I’m not just lying here in the dark. When a shadow appears in the doorway, I realize that that was my mistake. If I wanted to pretend I was sleeping, sitting up, watching the door with the light on was a big ol’ goof.

“You waited up. I’m so glad.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” I say off-handedly.

“Mm.”

He leans against the doorjamb, watching me from across the room.

The light in the hall silhouettes him. This new pose draws my attention right to his chest. He must’ve started to undress on his way over because his jacket is gone.

His dress shirt is unbuttoned, the flaps open, giving me sneak peeks of a delectable-looking chest.

His shoes are gone. So are his socks. He’s in his bare feet as he crosses his legs at the ankle.

My mouth is suddenly way too dry.

My husband smirks at me. “See something you like, princess?”

Shit. He caught me staring.

I shrug anyway. “Just looking for the best place to stick the knife.”

Adrian’s smirk deepens. The prick is amused that I haven’t given up on cashing in on that ’til death do we part’ clause that I pointed out the night after we married. “You’d have to get close to me to do that first.”

“I think I can stomach it.”

He caresses his upper belly, highlighting his notable abs. “There was a time you couldn’t keep your hands off of me.”

“There was a time when I thought you were my Prince Charming,” I shoot back. “Now I know better.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

I snort. “Yeah. I’m married to the villain of this tale.”

He chuckles darkly. “You’re not wrong. If you had any idea how far I’d go to keep you, Loni… stab me if it makes you feel better. Just know that I’ll make you lap up the blood.” His eyes spark with undeniable lust. “I told you. I’ll get inside of my bride again any way I can.”

Except force me, and the longer I pretend that we’re this marriage won’t— can’t —last, the more I wonder why he doesn’t just use the Order’s rules in his favor to at least use the body I Offered to him by agreeing to become his wife.

He could make me do that. He could make me do anything —and there isn’t a damn thing I can do to stop him.

But this isn’t between us and the Order. This is between Adrian and me, and he won’t be satisfied until I’ve surrendered to him completely.

That’s not today. Even if he wants to undress in front of me, showing off that delectable body of his… not today, Adrian.

He knows, too. So while he probably considers my gawking a tiny victory in this battle between us, he lowers his hands, reaching for his belt buckle as though simply getting ready for bed while having a chat with his wife.

In fact, his tone goes from sinfully wicked and promising to casually conversational as he says, “Do you know who Damien Libellula is?”