Page 67 of What Doesn't Kill You…

Without a word, she handed him the necklace and then swept her long straight hair out of his way. Max glanced at the golden chain and found it held a little charm showing a dove in flight.

Violet saw him looking at it. "My mother gave it to me years ago. She thought the dove might remind me to be at peace and not get so agitated all the time." She caught his eye in the mirror in front of them. "It didn't work."

"It's pretty." Max fastened it around her throat, feeling the smooth heat of her skin beneath his fingers as he adjusted the necklace. It gleamed against her olive skin.

Her thick black eyelashes drifted down as she reached onto the dressing table for another chain. Without asking, she turned to him and held it out, presenting her wrist this time.

Max fastened the thin bracelet around her delicate wrist. This held a few small charms, all on the same bird theme as the necklace.

"It's my mum," she said. "She used to call me her little bird because she said I was always flitting about when I was a kid. Now, I get charms for every birthday."

"It's cute," Max said, rubbing his thumb over the inside of her wrist, and hearing her breath hitch as he did so. "I don't see you as a bird," he said thinking about it.

"No?" she whispered. "What do you see?"

"A formidable she-wolf, the skilled protector of the pack, honorable and fierce. She relies on no one but, if you're lucky, she might deign to grant you permission to get close. Then, if you do, she will be ferociously loyal, yet soft and loving." He nodded, certain of the imagery. "Yes, you're a lone wolf. Terrifying and beautiful."

He held her wrist, so fragile yet so powerful, in his hand as he stared into her dark unreadable eyes.

"Max," she whispered.

For a moment, it felt as though the air between them was speaking words they couldn't say, in a language they didn't know.

Violet swallowed and stepped away. "We need to get going," she said and the moment evaporated, dispersed on the wind.

"Yeah. How do I look?" He held out his arms and did a slow twirl for her.

When he turned back to face her, he was pleased to see appreciation in her gaze. "You suit that shade of grayish blue," she said of his jacket and pants.

Max had the urge to fill his closet with clothes in the exact same color.

"Do you think there will be speeches tonight?" he said as they reached the door. He stepped back to let Violet do her bodyguard thing, checking for threats before they went outside.

She stopped suddenly, horror on her face. "I hope not. No, there wouldn't be, would there?"

"That's what usually happens during the rehearsal dinner," he said as they closed the bungalow door behind them.

"This isn't a rehearsal dinner," she declared, like that would make it so. "It's just dinner the night before the wedding."

He noticed she didn't say our wedding. Violet was still holding onto the hope they wouldn't have to go through with it. Max kept silent on the subject, deciding it would be best for everyone if he let her believe whatever made her happiest.

"Look on the bright side," he said as he placed a hand in the small of her back, feeling inordinately proud to be accompanying her. "Even if there are speeches, no one will hear them over the karaoke."

That didn't appear to cheer her up any, so Max stopped talking all together.

They were in one of the smaller bars, in a large side room equipped with a small stage and a karaoke machine. Although the room was open to the public, most of the tables had been shoved together to make one large seating area for the Durant-Lee wedding. The table had been decorated with some of the flowers Violet had suggested to the florist, and there were balloons floating over it emblazoned with: Congratulations Max and Violet.

It was all very tasteful, but Violet felt ill at the sight. All she could think about was Tina, the florist. She pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to Rodrigo, who was seated at the other end of the long table.

Any word on the florist? she wrote.

Rodrigo glanced her way before replying. Abasi said she got off the island and has gone into hiding. Damien is pissed.

Good, Violet wrote before putting her phone away. At least now she could appreciate the flowers without thinking they'd gotten the florist killed.

"I have to say," Jasmine said as she ran her fingers over the centerpieces. "This isn't the kind of wedding I expected you to have."

"No," Harvey agreed, his eyes on the balloons. "I always thought there'd be a camo theme and we'd all have to play paintball. I practiced, just in case. Didn't want you to kick my arse on your wedding day."