Page 111 of Vows of Blood

Sienna appears at the end of the aisle, her hand tucked into Corso's arm since she has no father to give her away.

I guess that’s one way of staying at her side.

She's wearing white silk and delicate lace, the gown hugging her curves before flowing to the ground in an elegant train. Her hair is swept up, exposing the graceful line of her neck, and her bright eyes find mine immediately, a huge smile on her pretty face that makes my chest ache.

She's beautiful. She's always been beautiful, but today, walking toward me with flowers in her hands, she takes my breath away.

Corso delivers her to me with a small nod before stepping back to take his place amongst the guards stationed discreetly close by. I take her hands in mine, feeling the tremble of her fingers, and give them a gentle squeeze to let her know everything is going to be okay.

"Hi," she whispers.

"Hi yourself." I steal a kiss because I can’t help myself. “You look beautiful.”

She beams at me, and the nerves inside me settles. She’s going to be mine. We won. We’ll get our life together, our family, and all the things we should have gotten the first time around.

The ceremony passes in a blur. The priest's words float around me, familiar phrases about love and honor that barely register, because all I can see is her. All I can think about is the fact that after today, she's mine, just as I always wanted.

When it comes time for the vows, I speak them without hesitation. I promise to love her, to protect her, to stand beside her through whatever darkness the future might bring. I speak the words I mulled over ten years ago and locked away, along with the ring I never thought would see the light of day.

She repeats the words back to me confidently, tears brightening her eyes, and as she does so, the scars my father inflicted upon me, the wounds he left behind, fade into insignificance.

This is right. This is where we were always meant to end up.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife."

The words snap me back to the present, and I kiss her fiercely, pulling her to me, before the priest even finishes speaking. I claim her mouth with a passion that makes the guests laugh and cheer, a rare show of real emotion from me before my colleagues in arms.

She melts against me, her fingers curling into my lapels, and for a moment, the rest of the world ceases to exist.

“Mine,” I whisper against her hair as I hold her close, reluctant to end this moment and get pulled into the crowd once more, swept up in the madness and noise.

The reception is a whirlwind of champagne and congratulations. We make the rounds together, accepting well-wishes from people whose names I barely remember, and posing for photographs that will document this day for posterity. Through it all, I keep Sienna close, my hand on her back, her waist, her shoulder, wanting to touch her at all times.

It's during one of the later dances, when most of the older guests have departed and the younger crowd has loosened up with alcohol and celebration, that I feel her stiffening beside me.

"What is it?"

When she doesn't answer immediately, I track her gaze, studying the crowd where she was looking, but see nothing unusual.

"Sienna."

"That man." She hisses, clinging to me. "By the bar. Dark hair, standing with the group from the Fiorenza table."

I find him. Mid-thirties, slim, and handsome face. He’s nursing a drink and making conversation. He looks like any other guest until he lifts his chin, and his startling blue eyes catch the light.

"Is that him?" I remain calm, but scan the crowd, finding the other man I’m looking for. "Sienna, is he the shooter?"

She presses closer, her lips moving against my tuxedo jacket as we continue to glide across the floor. "Yes. Those eyes. I'd know them anywhere."

Ignacio.

My hand tightens on her waist, but I force myself to relax, knowing she’s scared and needs me to help calm her nerves. "Mikhail has been tracking him, awaiting your confirmation."

I nod toward the far corner of the room, where a tall figure stands near the side door. Mikhail is dressed in an immaculate suit, already stalking his target.

She turns to look at me, confusion and fear warring on her beautiful face. "You knew the shooter would be here?"

Kissing her cheek, I brush a strand of hair from her face, keeping the gesture casual for any observers. "He's not going to hurt anyone. Not today. But I needed to be sure, for you to see him up close, before..."