Brutal Vows (Queens & Monsters #4)(108)
Quinn says, “Yet.”
“Yes, yet. God, it’s disturbing to see her flirt. It’s like watching a horror movie in slow motion.” I slide my hand up his neck into his hair and whisper, “I’m also happy to see you so happy. I was a little worried seeing Riley would be traumatic for you.”
He sighs. “Seeing Malek is traumatic for me. I hate that fucker. I’ve never wanted to strangle anyone more. But I’m glad Riley’s happy. She seems good, don’t you think?”
I nod, snuggling closer.
After a moment, he asks tentatively, “Are you jealous?”
“I would be if I thought you still had feelings for her. But it’s obvious you don’t. Hey, by the way, I’ve been thinking about something.”
“Jesus.”
“Oh, don’t be scared. It just occurred to me the other day that I’ve never asked you what this tattoo says.”
I trace my fingers over the ink that runs across his chest just under his collarbone.
He exhales and pulls me closer. “It’s Gaelic for embrace the chaos. Someone told me that years ago, when I was in a very dark place, and it helped.”
“One of your therapists?”
“No. Declan.”
I think about that for a while as I trace my fingers over the scrolls and loops inked on his skin. It seems as good a slogan as any to survive this turbulent life of ours.
Pressing a kiss to my temple, Quinn murmurs, “I’ve been thinking about something, too.”
The tone of his voice makes me nervous. “Do I need to have a drink before I hear it?”
“It’s about the tattoo on your ring finger.”
“What about it?”
He pauses. “I was wondering…if it’s still how you feel about marriage.”
“Oh.” I laugh a little, snuggling closer to him. “Actually, marriage in general seems like a terrible idea.”
His sigh is soft and defeated. He says, “That’s what I thought,” and closes his eyes.
This man. He always assumes the worst. I’m going to have to work on that.
“I wasn’t finished.”
He cracks open one eye and looks at me. I smile up into his frowning face.
“As I was saying, marriage in general seems like a terrible idea…but marriage to a certain stubborn, bossy, cranky, possessive insect seems like it might be kinda fun.”
His breath catches. His eyes flare. His arms tighten around me. He says gruffly, “Arachnid.”
“Yes, excuse me. Arachnid.”
After a beat of silence, he rolls on top of me and stares down at me with burning intensity, every muscle in his big body tensed.
“So you’re saying you want to marry me. For real this time.”
Grinning at him, I say coyly, “I don’t know. Maybe you should ask me and find out. Because if memory serves, I’m the only person in this room who’s proposed. Under duress, I might add. That doesn’t make such a great story we can tell our grandkids. It would be nice if we went about it properly.”
Because his chest is pressed to mine, I can feel how hard his heart is pounding. I also feel a sudden stiffness against my thigh and have to bite my lip to keep from laughing.
But then I’m gasping, because Quinn has launched himself from bed, dragging me along with him. He gets me steady on my feet, then sinks to one knee on the carpet in front of me.
Gazing up at me with adoring eyes, he says in a gruff voice, “Viper. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want you to have my children. I want to make you the happiest woman in the world. I’ll give you everything I have to give and anything you ever ask for. I love you with every part of my dark heart and every piece of my wasted soul. Will you please do me the honor of being my wife?”
His smile is breathtaking. “For real this time?”
My throat tight and my eyes watering, I say, “Yes, my beautiful Irishman. I’ll marry you. I’ll marry you every day for the rest of forever, because I’ve never loved anything in my life the way I love you.”
He closes his eyes for a moment. He swallows. When he opens his eyes again, they’ve gone dark.
My monster growls, “Good answer,” and lunges at me.
He takes us back down to the bed with the sound of my happy laughter echoing off the walls.
Epilogue
SPIDER
Boston, fifteen months later
Christmas Eve
Reyna stands at the head of the long oak table, silently surveying the seated group.
The lone woman in a crowd of dozens of the most powerful and dangerous men in the world, she looks as serene and genteel as one of the society ladies my mother’s favorite artist painted.
Her long dark hair is wound into a low chignon. Her red dress gently hugs her swollen belly. She rests one hand atop the precious bump that contains our growing child.
“Gentlemen,” she says, looking at each man in turn. “As you all know, the past year has been one of unprecedented success for our families. You’ve proven that working together to achieve our mutual goals is far more advantageous than being at odds with one another. I want to thank you for your cooperation with what some felt was an insane idea.”