Page 33 of The Devil

“Do you, Jethro Blackstone, take this woman as your wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health to love and protect until death do you part?”

“I do. Gladly.” Jet reaches into his pocket to produce two wedding bands. Platinum. How long was he planning this?

Father Abernathy blesses the rings and Jet takes my hand. “With this ring, I thee wed,” he says.

I feel the cool weight of it encircling my finger.

He hands me the other ring, and I slide it onto his finger. “With this ring, I thee wed,” I say.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Father Abernathy says, making the sign of the cross as he speaks the final words of the ceremony, words I don’t hear, before telling Jet he may kiss his bride.

I blink at that, my lips parting on a surprise. Although I’m not sure why it’s a surprise. Jet’s hand comes to my chin, thumb and forefinger drawing me toward himself and, with eyes wide open, he kisses me.

It’s our first kiss.

11

JET

Her heart is beating double time. I swear, I can hear it. Mine is too. And that was barely the touching of my lips to hers. A small taste for both of us. It’s all I trust myself with.

Now, I watch my wife, my wife, standing where I left her a few feet off looking like a lost little thing while I go over final details with Malcom before he leaves to get the car. My footsteps echo on the stone floors, bouncing off the walls. She has her back to me, and I swear she shudders with each step.

Reaching around her into the pew she was sitting in, I grab her coat, which is giving Little Red Riding Hood vibes. Fitting. I am her wolf. I drape it over her shoulders then hand her her purse which is remarkably heavy.

“Ready, wife?”

She looks up at me. “What happens now?”

I tilt my head knowing I shouldn’t have this much fun with her, but unable to resist. I mean, she deserves a little punishment.

“Don’t you know?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.

Her face flushes with the heat of what I think a mixture of fury and embarrassment. She makes fists of her small hands. It’s cute. “I mean are you going to let me finish what I came here to do before taking me back?”

“And what is it you came here to do?”

“Nothing you need to worry about. I’ll handle my business.”

“Newsflash, Little Virgin. Your business is my business. You belong to me now.”

“This is not the Middle Ages. I don’t belong⁠—”

“Oh, sweetheart,” I chuckle. “This is going to be fun. Didn’t you hear our vows? I am to protect you. I’m sworn to it. Just as you’re sworn to obey me.”

She bristles, eyes narrowing.

I smile wide. Can’t help myself.

“But now, my darling wife, we have a much more interesting matter. Our wedding night.”

Her face pales, but I don’t miss the way her eyes widen, that blue darkening, becoming stormy with curiosity. There’s always been a pull between us from day one. The knowledge that she’ll come to me untouched wakes something primal inside me. The fact that she’s my wife? Well, I have no words for that. Only a deep, dark satisfaction I feel in my gut. My chest.

Before either of us can say more, the door opens and Malcom peers inside.

“Ready when you are,” he says.

“Be right out.” I tug Amal’s cloak closer around her, buttoning the single large button at her throat. It falls fully closed, a good quality wool cloak which is necessary for this weather. Edinburgh is fucking freezing, wind slapping you with rain, alternating with hail and, if you’re really lucky, all coming down sideways at the same time. It’s been like this for the full week I’ve been here.