The King (Black Dagger Brotherhood #12)(150)

The nice thing was that he got to stare at her.

“Now the jacket.” She held the thing out for him like she was the man, guiding the fine wool into place on his back, then turning him around and smoothing the lapels. “Damn…”

What? he signed.

Her stare was gleaming as she pulled a head-to-toe on him. “You make that look hot as hell.”

John puffed his pecs, going all robin-breasted. Hard not to when your female was eating you up with her eyes like that.

And you’re still naked. He smiled. Your birthday suit is my favorite.

Except she wasn’t completely unadorned. Reaching out, he touched the necklace he’d given to her, the one with the big square-cut diamond in the center.

Xhex wasn’t normally down for the sap, but she covered his hand with hers and brought his palm to her mouth. Kissing it, she murmured, “I know. I love you, too. Forever.”

He leaned into her and brushed his lips against hers.

A couple minutes later they headed out, with her dressed in slacks and a black silk shirt. Which, next to the aforementioned birthday suit, was a pretty fine little outfit. Especially because for once, she’d put her feet into a spectacular pair of f*ck-me pumps.

Something he planned to follow through on whenever they could catch a minute alone.

Other people were coming out of bedroom doors: Blay and Qhuinn, also in suits. Z and Bella, with little Nalla dressed in yet another pink confection of silk and tulle … which made her pretty much the most adorable thing he’d seen.

And he didn’t even like kids.

As the group walked down the hall of statues and hit the stairs, there wasn’t a lot of talking. Hadn’t been since Rehv had put that proclamation on the dining room table. Wasn’t going to be for a while.

This was going to help, however.

Down below in the foyer, still more from the household had gathered, but not Wrath or Beth yet, and John joined the crowd—which again was very quiet. Hell, even Rhage put the kibosh on his usual antics—although with that mouthy fallen angel yet to show—

“What the f*ck is that?”

At the sound of V’s voice, John turned with the rest of them … and when he saw what was up at the head of the grand staircase, he blinked once. Twice. Twelve times.

Lassiter was standing at the top of the carpeted steps, his blond-and-black hair styled in a pompadour, a heavy Bible under his armpit, piercings catching the light …

But none of that was the real shocker.

The fallen angel was dressed in a sparkling white Elvis costume. Complete with bell-bottoms, balloon sleeves, and lapels big enough to tent up the backyard. Oh, and rainbow wings that revealed themselves as he held his arms out, preacher style.

“Time to get the party started,” he said as he jogged down, sequins winking and flashing. “And where the hell’s my pulpit?”

V coughed out the smoke he’d just inhaled. “She’s having you do the service?”

The angel popped his already mile-high collar. “She said she wanted the holiest thing in the house to do it.”

“She got holey, all right,” somebody muttered.

“Is that Butch’s Bible?” V asked.

The angel flashed the goods. “Yup. And his BoC, he called it? I also got a sermon I did myself.”

“Saints preserve us,” came from the opposite side of the crowd.

“Wait, wait, wait.” V waved his hand-rolled around. “I’m the son of a deity and she picked you?”

“You can call me Pastor—and before Mr. Sox Fan gets his panties in a wad, I want everyone to know I’m legit. I went online, took a minister’s course in under an hour, and I’m ordained, baby.”

Rhage raised his hand. “Pastor Ass-hat, I have a question.”

“Yes, my son, you are going to hell.” Lassiter made the sign of the cross and then looked around. “So where’s our bride? The groom? I’m ready to marry somebody.”

“I didn’t bring enough tobacco for this,” V bitched.

Rhage sighed. “There’s Goose in the bar, my brother—oh, wait. We don’t have a bar anymore.”

“I think I’ll just run an IV of morphine.”

“Can I put it in?” Lassiter asked.

“That’s what she said,” somebody shot back—

“Oh … wow. That’s, ah, quite a getup.”

Everybody looked over their shoulders as Beth spoke up. She was coming in from the library, Saxton beside her, Rehv behind them. The latter had a parchment rolled up under his arm, and a bemused expression on his face.

“I know, right?” Lassiter said, pulling a pirouette, that cape thing splaying out.

Not that John Matthew paid any attention to the male. Or anybody else.

Without conscious thought, he walked forward toward his sister. She was wearing a simple white sheath dress, one that covered her shoulders and went below her knees. And as he came closer, he recognized it as something he’d seen the Chosen in the house wear when they wanted to be comfortable. Unlike them, however, her hair was loose and spilling down her back in black waves.

She looked innocent. And lovely. And perfect.

You are beautiful, he signed.

“Oh, thanks.” She flounced the dress. “Layla lent this to me. So are you ready to walk me down the aisle?”