Page 61 of Every Eligible Man

"And now," Father Bartholomew says, voice hollow, "I must ask: does anyone object to this union?"

This is the moment I've been waiting for.

Baron Grimwald has been sitting in the back, sweating through his formal robes, looking like a man who desperately wants to object but knows better.

His sons, however, are idiots.

Brant rises from his seat, red-faced and furious, ear still bandaged from Gerald's last attack. "I object! This is outrageous! These men are servants! They're beneath her station! They're…"

Gerald launches himself from Wreck's shoulder like a furry missile of vengeance.

The ferret covers the distance between the altar and Brant's face in approximately two seconds, latching onto the nobleman's nose with a war cry that echoes through the hall.

Brant's scream is legendary. He flails backward, knocking over Garrick, who knocks over Baron Grimwald, who crashes into a row of lesser nobles like dominoes.

Susan, not to be outdone, rockets toward the chaos and begins doing aggressive victory dances around the fallen Grimwalds.

"Overruled!" Gerald seems to shriek, still attached to Brant's nose.

"I believe," Father Bartholomew says weakly, watching the carnage unfold, "that the objection has been... handled."

"Gerald is a wedding gift to himself," Wreck observes proudly.

The guards eventually pry Gerald off Brant's face. There's blood, there's screaming, there's Baron Grimwald sobbing on the floor, and the ceremony continues.

"If there are no further objections..." Father Bartholomew looks around with the desperate hope of a man who just wants this to be over. "By the power vested in me by the crown, I now pronounce you... married. All of you. To each other. May the gods have mercy on this kingdom."

"Can we kiss her now?" Wreck asks.

"Please do. Please do anything that ends this ceremony."

Three grooms. Three kisses.

Ash kisses me first, deep, possessive, claiming. His hand fists in my hair, tilting my head back, showing the entire congregation exactly who I belong to now.

Slade kisses me second, clever, teasing, his tongue sliding against mine with promises of what's to come. I feel myself melting.

Wreck kisses me third, chaotic, enthusiastic, slightly missing my mouth at first before correcting course. When he pulls back, he's grinning like he's won something.

I have three rings on my finger now.

I have three husbands.

I have absolutely zero intention of waiting for the reception.

"Altar," I announce, reaching down to grab Ash's cock through his trousers. "Now."

Father Bartholomew's soul visibly leaves his body.

"My lady, the reception, the guests."

"The guests can wait." I'm already hiking up my dress. "I've been thinking about getting fucked on this altar since I picked it out. Clear the room."

"You cannot in a place of worship."

"I can do whatever I want." I boost myself onto the altar, scattering the ceremonial candles. "Everyone who doesn't want to see my wedding night can leave. Now."

There's a stampede for the doors.