Page 179 of Sire

Falling deeper in love.

Feeling our baby kick.

“But in our story?” Sire stands before me. “I fell first. I fell fast and hard and found salvation in this Iron Angel. She may be small, but don’t underestimate her.” Warmly, he nods at his mom in the crowd. “Don’t underestimate any woman. Proverbs say of women, ‘Long life is in her right hand.’”

He offers his, asking for mine.

But humility hits me. Shyness, too.

Funny, I can sing karaoke standing on a bar, but be the center of love, of family, of no one laughing at me? Of all this adoration?

I don’t know how to do this.

With his inked hand, Sire gives that sexyCome to megesture.

I could falter, but Jace, sitting on my left, stands and helps me rise, offering my hand to his brother.

God, give Jace his love, too.He’s the only king who’s alone.

I send up the prayer.

“I wrote a song for my wife while I was away.” Sire takes my hand, gently rubbing his thumb over mine.You’re okay. I got you.“It kept me going on dark and lonely nights.”

He won’t take his eyes off me while he tells the crowd, “It’s a bit unorthodox, but so am I. It’s soulful, but how I feelfor her. It’s a little sexy, but we’re all adults here. Right? The kids are in Sunday school?”

He winks at the laughing congregation. He’s got them and me: hook, line, and sinker.

“Trust me,” he smirks, “you don’t want Mrs. Rutledge, our fine First Lady of this church, messing up these lyrics. Because she will.” I shake my head, smiling. “But every word is for her.”

The band kicks in.

The beat drops.

Sire sings how God went crazy, making me for him, and him for me… and I get lost in his eyes and the lyrics. I’ll never forget them.

Sure, all hell will break loose.

I’m married to a Bratva prince who’ll cut off evil heads.

But I’m in love with a hot, inked pastor, who gave me his pinky, heart, body, soul, and child.

So, there’s a lot of heaven for us, too.

EPILOGUE

SIRE

Seven months later

“Since when areyou shy about this?” I reach over, tickling Wren’s waist.

“Since it’s been a minute,” she giggles, tugging on the belt of her white trench coat. “The last time we were here was for my test, and that was before I became a mom and?—”

“So, moms don’t have sex?” I laugh, “If so, please inform mine. As you’d say, she didn’t understand the assignment.”

“It’s too easy for dads.” Wren turns nervously to the limousine window, the nighttime lights of Atlanta whizzing by. “You bust a nut in a minute, wait nine months, and ta-da—instant parent. While women…” I love her non-filtered mouth. “Our poor little pussies go through a lot.”

I reach for her cheek, turning her eyes my way. “You’re beautiful. From the moment I met you, I couldn’t believe my eyes: my angel. And when you had our baby, I couldn’t breathe. You’rethatperfect.” I grin. “You and that hot little pussy.”