In the far corner, a tenor began to sing, Zsadist’s crystal-clear voice sailing up toward the warrior paintings on the ceiling far, far above them all. At first John didn’t know what the song was... although if he’d been asked what his name was, he would have said Santa Claus, or Luther Vandross, or Teddy Roosevelt.
Maybe even Joan Collins.
But then the sounds coalesced and he caught the tune. U2’s “All I Want Is You.”
The one John had asked the male to sing.
Xhex’s first step brought out the sniffles from the females. And Lassiter, evidently. Either that or the angel had dust in his eye.
With every descending footfall Xhex took, John’s chest swelled further until he felt as if not only his body was buoyant, but he was lifting the great weight of the stone mansion up with him.
At the base of the stairs, she paused again and Beth rushed forward to arrange the long skirting.
And then Xhex was standing with him in front of Wrath, the Blind King.
The smile she gave him started small, just a lift on one side, but it spread—oh, God... it spread until she was beaming so wide her fangs were showing and her eyes were lit up like stars.
The king’s voice echoed to the high ceiling. “Hear ye, all assembled before me. We are gathered herein to witness the mating of this male and this female... ”
The ceremony commenced and proceeded, with him and Xhex responding when they were supposed to. The absence of the Scribe Virgin was glossed over, with the king pronouncing that it was a good mating, and then when all the vows were made, it was time to get serious.
As Wrath gave the cue, John leaned in and pressed his lips to Xhex’s; then he stepped back and took off the jeweled belt and the robe. He was smiling like a motherfucker as he gave them over to Tohr and Fritz brought forward the table with the bowl of salt and the silver pitcher of water on it.
Wrath unsheathed his black dagger and said in a loud voice, “What is the name of your
To all and sundry, John signed,
With Tohr’s guiding hand, the king carved the first letter, right over the tattoo John had gotten. And then the other Brothers followed suit, marking across the ink in his skin, the blades of the Brotherhood cutting him along not just the four Old Language symbols, but the scrollwork the tat artist had drawn. With every slice, he bore down onto the depiction of the apple tree, taking the pain with pride, refusing to let even a silent hiss escape his lips—and after each letter or swirl, he looked up to Xhex. She was standing at the forefront of the females and the other males, her arms locked over the bodice of the dress, her eyes grave, but approving.
When the salt hit his fresh wounds, he gritted his teeth so hard, his jaw cracked under the strain, the sound cutting through the dripping of the water. But he didn’t gasp or mouth a curse even as the agony lanced through him and made his vision fuzz out.
As he straightened his torso on his hips, the war cry of the Brotherhood and the soldiers of the house echoed all around and Tohr blotted the raw design with a stretch of white linen. After the Brother was finished, he put the cloth into a black lacquered box and gave it to John.
Rising up off his knees, John approached Xhex with the swagger of a male in his full prime—who’d just been through the gauntlet and rocked it just fine, thank you very much. In front of her, he knelt back down, dropped his head, and held the black box up for her to take or refuse at her will. Tradition said if she accepted it, she accepted him.
She didn’t even wait a heartbeat.
The weight was relieved from his hold and he looked up. Those beautiful red tears of hers were in her eyes as she cradled the box with his pledge to her against her heart.
As the assembled cheered and clapped, John burst to his feet and swept her and that big, gorgeous red dress right up into his arms. He kissed her hard and then, in front of the king and his sister and his best friends and the Brotherhood, he carried his female straight up those stairs she’d come down.
Yeah, there was a feast in their honor about to break out. But the bonded male in him needed to do a little marking—then they’d come down for food.
He was halfway to the top when Hollywood’s voice sounded out. “Oh, man, I want mine done over with some of that curlicue crap.”
“Don’t even think about it, Rhage,” was Mary’s response.
“Can we eat now?” Lassiter asked. “Or is anyone else turning themselves into sushi?”
The party started to get rolling, voices and laughter and the beat of Jay-Z’s “Young Forever” filling the space. At the head of the stairs, John paused and looked down. The sight below, coupled with the female in his arms, made him feel as though he’d climbed a great mountain and had finally, inexplicably, unbelievably gotten to the top.
Her husky voice sealed the deal on his hard-on: “You just going to stand around, or did you bring me up here for a good reason?”
John kissed her, slipping his tongue between her lips, penetrating her. He kept at it as he walked her down to his—
Inside, he set her down on the bed and she stared up at him, looking as if she were more than ready for what he was going to give her.
Except she seemed surprised when he just turned away.
But he had to present her with the gift he’d bought.
When he came back to the bed, he had the red bag from Reinhardt’s with him.
Xhex sat up and her hands shook a little as she took out the long, thin box. “What did you do, John Matthew—”
Her gasp as she cracked the lid was too frickin’ fabulous.
John reached out and took the thick chain off the velvet nest. The square diamond set in the middle of the platinum links was six carats—whatever that meant. All he cared about was that the damn stone was big enough and bright enough and sparkly enough to be seen from goddamn Canada.
Just in case any males saw her and maybe had a head cold or something, he wanted it to be known that she was taken. And if John’s bonding scent didn’t reach their noses, the flash of that rock sure as shit would bounce off their retinas.
Xhex grabbed his face and kissed him so long and so deep he couldn’t breathe. And didn’t care. “I’ll never take it off. Ever.”
John fused their mouths and mounted her, pushing her and that gown back against the pillows, his hands riding up her breasts, then scooping under her hips. As he arched into her body, he started fishing around the acres of satin...
Took him about a second and a half to get frustrated.
And turned out that the dress looked even better off.
John made slow love to his female, luxuriating in her body, caressing it with his hands and his mouth. When he finally joined them together, the fit was so perfect, the moment so right, he just fell still. Life had brought him here to this time with her, with them together...
This was the history he would be living from now on.
“So, John...” she said in a husky voice.
He whistled in an ascending note.
“I was thinking about getting a little ink of my own.” As he cocked his head to the side, she ran her hands up
