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Authors: Maddy Barone
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up to find him smiling at her with an expectant expression on his face.
She’d missed something important. “What?” she whispered.
The priest sighed. “Do you, Connie Marie Mondale, take this man, Desmond Shiny Rock Wolfe, to be your wedded husband? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey until death parts you?”
Her attention fastened on “Shiny Rock” for a long moment before moving on to the word obey. Her suppressed urge to giggle died fast. “Obey?” She jerked her hand away from Des and scowled at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “No way. That’s archaic.”
“It’s just routine,” Des began soothingly.
“ Bullsh —” Connie broke off with a guilty glance at the priest. “If I make a vow, I’ll keep it. But there’s no way I can keep a vow to obey you.” She unfolded one arm to poke a finger in his chest. “This wedding was your idea. You want to be my husband? Then we’re leaving that little ‘obey’ bit out of the vows.”
“Fine by me,” Des said, obviously not disturbed as he took her hand back.
The priest was disturbed, but Des fixed a cold glare on him. Connie noticed that all the other bridegrooms did the same, and Taye growled, “The ladies don’t have to swear to obey.”
The edge of violence in Taye’s voice made Father John swallow. She didn’t blame him. Taye was about ten years younger than she was, and he’d always been so nice to her that she forgot he controlled a pack of werewolves with an iron fist. Wolves, she corrected herself. She had to remember they weren’t werewolves! She cast a glance up at Des and found him looking down at her with a small smile curving his lips.
The brides’ vows went smoothly after that, and then the men said their vows. Thank God, thought Connie, it was almost done. But the men didn’t stop with the traditional vows to love and cherish. Des’s warm fingers closed more tightly around hers to draw her closer.
“I swear to keep you safe even if I have to die to do it,” he said in a clear, low voice. Connie’s mouth parted in breathless surprise. She was vaguely aware the other bridegrooms were speaking the same words, but all she heard was the fierce sincerity in Des’ voice. “I will never raise my hand to you or do anything to hurt you. You, as my mate, will be my best friend and most precious treasure for the rest of my days.”
Why were tears stinging her eyes? Connie clamped her back teeth together to force them back. Tears might be traditional at weddings, but she never cried. She might have lost track of the ceremony while she fought with her disgusting weakness, because before she was entirely ready, the priest pronounced her Mrs. Desmond Wolfe and Des’ lips were warm and soft on hers.
It was a quick, light kiss, not the sort to get a woman revved up, but a pang of pure lust drove through her at the feel of his lips. Her hands raised to push him away, but tangled in the heavy silk of his hair laying over his chest instead. Damn, he smelled good. And when she pushed her tongue into the heat of his mouth she found he tasted even better. Howls bawled out from the dozens of men watching, wrenching her back to herself. She jerked her hands from his hair and curled them into fists to keep from grabbing him again. He looked down at her with a white, slanted smile that looked far too smug, and way too hot.
Feeling strangely weak, and horribly embarrassed, she turned to accept the congratulations of fifty men she didn’t know. Dear God, she was married now.
Chapter Five
Des forced himself to let Connie go. He immediately mourned the loss of the intriguing weight of her body against his. His wolf howled a demand that he grab their mate and carry her to the room he’d cleaned this afternoon. He calmed himself with the promise that after supper he would explore the exciting heat of her mouth at
She’d missed something important. “What?” she whispered.
The priest sighed. “Do you, Connie Marie Mondale, take this man, Desmond Shiny Rock Wolfe, to be your wedded husband? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey until death parts you?”
Her attention fastened on “Shiny Rock” for a long moment before moving on to the word obey. Her suppressed urge to giggle died fast. “Obey?” She jerked her hand away from Des and scowled at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “No way. That’s archaic.”
“It’s just routine,” Des began soothingly.
“ Bullsh —” Connie broke off with a guilty glance at the priest. “If I make a vow, I’ll keep it. But there’s no way I can keep a vow to obey you.” She unfolded one arm to poke a finger in his chest. “This wedding was your idea. You want to be my husband? Then we’re leaving that little ‘obey’ bit out of the vows.”
“Fine by me,” Des said, obviously not disturbed as he took her hand back.
The priest was disturbed, but Des fixed a cold glare on him. Connie noticed that all the other bridegrooms did the same, and Taye growled, “The ladies don’t have to swear to obey.”
The edge of violence in Taye’s voice made Father John swallow. She didn’t blame him. Taye was about ten years younger than she was, and he’d always been so nice to her that she forgot he controlled a pack of werewolves with an iron fist. Wolves, she corrected herself. She had to remember they weren’t werewolves! She cast a glance up at Des and found him looking down at her with a small smile curving his lips.
The brides’ vows went smoothly after that, and then the men said their vows. Thank God, thought Connie, it was almost done. But the men didn’t stop with the traditional vows to love and cherish. Des’s warm fingers closed more tightly around hers to draw her closer.
“I swear to keep you safe even if I have to die to do it,” he said in a clear, low voice. Connie’s mouth parted in breathless surprise. She was vaguely aware the other bridegrooms were speaking the same words, but all she heard was the fierce sincerity in Des’ voice. “I will never raise my hand to you or do anything to hurt you. You, as my mate, will be my best friend and most precious treasure for the rest of my days.”
Why were tears stinging her eyes? Connie clamped her back teeth together to force them back. Tears might be traditional at weddings, but she never cried. She might have lost track of the ceremony while she fought with her disgusting weakness, because before she was entirely ready, the priest pronounced her Mrs. Desmond Wolfe and Des’ lips were warm and soft on hers.
It was a quick, light kiss, not the sort to get a woman revved up, but a pang of pure lust drove through her at the feel of his lips. Her hands raised to push him away, but tangled in the heavy silk of his hair laying over his chest instead. Damn, he smelled good. And when she pushed her tongue into the heat of his mouth she found he tasted even better. Howls bawled out from the dozens of men watching, wrenching her back to herself. She jerked her hands from his hair and curled them into fists to keep from grabbing him again. He looked down at her with a white, slanted smile that looked far too smug, and way too hot.
Feeling strangely weak, and horribly embarrassed, she turned to accept the congratulations of fifty men she didn’t know. Dear God, she was married now.
Chapter Five
Des forced himself to let Connie go. He immediately mourned the loss of the intriguing weight of her body against his. His wolf howled a demand that he grab their mate and carry her to the room he’d cleaned this afternoon. He calmed himself with the promise that after supper he would explore the exciting heat of her mouth at
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