Savage Hearts (Queens & Monsters #3)(103)

I smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She comes over and gives me a big hug, too. I haven’t seen her in so long, I’d almost forgotten what she looks like. Black hair, blue-gray eyes, scarlet lips…she’s gorgeous.

She whispers, “Are you okay?”

“Ugh. Yes and no. We’ll talk about it later. There’s way too much to go over right now.”

“Okay, sweetie. I’m glad to see you.”

“You, too.”

Sloane says warmly, “Look at my girls. This church will be full of boners. Even that sad statue we passed on the way in will be sprouting wood.”

I say over Nat’s shoulder, “That was a statue of the Virgin Mary.”

“So she’ll get a lady boner.”

“You’re going to hell.”

“Ha! They wish.”

Nat pulls away and smiles at me. “The queen is proud of her handmaidens.”

“We do look pretty good, though. And you’re glowing.”

Sloane says, “That’s because she’s getting the big Bratva bratwurst on the regular.”

Nat’s cheeks turn faintly pink. “She really has a way with words, doesn’t she?”

“She missed her true calling writing love songs.”

Sloane chuckles. “Nat, your gown is hanging on the back of the bathroom door. We’ve got about ten minutes before the coordinator will come get us and we start down the aisle.”

As Nat goes into the bathroom to change, I say, “Which reminds me. Are there groomsmen we’ll be walking with?”

“No. Kieran and Spider will be waiting at the altar with Declan.”

“Oh. So what’s the order?”

“The order of what?”

“Like does Nat go in front of me, then I go, then you go?”

Sloane walks over to me and rests her hand on my cheek. “No, silly,” she says, smiling. “The bride is supposed to walk down the aisle with the most important people in her life. So the three of us are walking down together, arm in arm.”

My chin quivers. My eyes well. I have to swallow around the rock in my throat. “If you make me cry, I’ll rip that tiara right off your head.”

“For a girl who showed up at my house looking like something out of the Backwoods Survival Guide, you’re a big softie.”

“I would’ve thought you’d think it was an improvement over all the gray fleece.”

“Honey, you went from sweatpants sloth to G.I. Jane. It was a lateral move, not an upward one.”

Looking stunning, Nat emerges from the restroom in her dress. We make a few last-minute adjustments to our hair and makeup, pick up our bouquets, and head out when the coordinator knocks.

And believe it or not, the ceremony goes off without a hitch.

Declan is glorious in his tux. Sloane is a fairy tale. They exchange vows and kiss to thundering applause.

Wisely, they omit the part of the vows where the priest asks if anyone objects.

There’s a small moment of awkwardness during the photographs afterward, when Spider does nothing but stare at me with such searing intensity, my ears burn. But it’s a momentary hiccup in an otherwise perfect event.

It isn’t until the reception that everything falls apart.





48





Riley





The reception is held at the Four Seasons Hotel in a magnificent ballroom. It has floor-to-ceiling windows, grand glittering chandeliers, and expansive views of the lush green Boston Public Gardens.

Every guest has to pass through a metal detector on their way in and also undergo a pat down by hand, performed by glowering Irishmen.

I’m surprised there isn’t a cavity search, these guys are that intense.

Sloane chose to forego a head table of the entire wedding party—another wise move—opting instead for a sweetheart table she and Declan sit at alone.

Marveling that she pulled all this together in a matter of days, I sit at a table with Nat, Kage, and five swarthy Sicilians wearing so much cologne, I can taste it.

Kieran and Spider sit at a table directly across the dance floor.

Every time I happen to glance in their direction, Spider is staring at me.

After everyone is seated, Nat introduces me to her fiancé.

He’s ruggedly handsome. With tousled dark hair, an unshaven jaw, and massive shoulders, he emits the kind of big-dick energy every woman and man in the room can feel.

Though he’s wearing a tux, he seems like he’d be far more comfortable in a leather bomber jacket and combat boots, a handkerchief knotted around his neck. Chunky silver rings decorate the thumb and middle fingers of his right hand. One of them is a skull.

He’s what I picture the swashbuckling pirates of the Caribbean looked like.

“It’s nice to meet you, Kage. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

He has the kind of gaze Mal does, that same penetrating, laser beam intensity that could slice you in two. But his eyes are dark instead of pale green.

“Bet you have,” he drawls, slinging an arm over the back of Nat’s chair. “Must be some interesting conversations that go on in that household.”

I smile at him. “Don’t worry, I didn’t believe a word of it. If Nat likes you, you’re good in my book.”