Page 23 of Unchained

Black suit. Black tie. White shirt. Dark brown hair groomed perfectly. Rugged stubble. His hands clasped in front of him.

My heart almost stops. He doesn’t even look at me. His eyes fixed on the floor.

My legs keep walking, even though my brain is short-circuiting.

When I reach the second-to-final row, his head snaps up. His dark eyes lock on mine, completely void of expression.

And then this mother fucker grins, dead at me.

Shit.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Colten

Lord fuckin’ help me. My wife is single-handedly the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.

The tight lace dress is elegant in all the right ways, a perfect wedding dress. Except for the fact that it’s jet black, like she’s walking towards a coffin, not her husband.

That striking red lipstick has me focused on her lips.

I don’t believe in all that shit, but if it turns out Gianna is sent from the underworld, I can’t say I’d be shocked.

A darkness follows her like a shadow. She stops in front of me, slamming her red rose bouquet into her brother's chest, and he falls back in line to sit with his family to my right.

I don’t say a single word as she steps in front of me.

“Did you wear that to your brother's funeral too?” I lean in and ask.

She stills beside me. Before brushing her lips against my ear.

“I killed him to save yours. So I’d watch your mouth, cowboy. Because you’re close enough for me to do the same thing to you,” she hisses.

I bite back a smile and stand, putting some distance between us. That distinct amber smell she has invades my nostrils and its divine, maybe there is something holy about my wife-to-be.

I clasp my hands in front of my crotch again, subconsciously to protect myself.

The minister begins his speech; I told him to keep it short and sweet, get this circus over with. But part of me almost asked him to make it the longest ceremony he could possibly muster, to keep our Italian guests sweating in this church. But I think my wife might see right through that play.

Every few seconds, my gaze draws back to her. And every single time, her eyes are locked on mine.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God, and in the presence of these witnesses, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony. Marriage is an honorable estate, instituted by God, and is to be entered into reverently and advisedly.”

She doesn’t break her stare.

“Please take each other's hands and repeat after me,” the minister says.

I snatch her hand and squeeze it tight, and she repays the favor by digging those pointed black nails into my skin.

Jett clears his throat from the first row, catching the attention of the entire room. “Aren’t you going to ask if anyone here objects?” Jett asks.

The minister frowns, glancing at me and back to Jett, still in his cowboy hat.

“Uh. If any person here present can show just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let them now speak, or else hereafter forever hold their peace.”

Hunter rubs his hand over his face, looking like he wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

Jett scans the room, waiting to see if anyone objects, then leans back on the bench, spreading his arms to either side. “Seems like you’re good to carry on,” he tells the minister. Dead serious.