Deklan

  Deklan grips my hand, and I glance up at him. He’s so tall, I have to tilt my head just to meet his eyes. He’s looking at me out of the corner of his eye, but I don’t understand his expression or why he is lightly squeezing my hand. Is he trying to reassure me? Are his look and gesture telling me everything will be all right or something else? Maybe it’s possessive. Maybe it’s his way of showing me that I’m his now, and he can do whatever he wants.

  I have no idea. I know nothing about this man.

  As soon as I knew I was supposed to marry Sean Foley, I studied him. I paid attention to him on the few occasions when we were together. I researched as much as I could about him and his family. Everything I found was more rumor than anything else, but I listened closely when my father had people at the house. I heard what they talked about. I knew the Foley family.

  About Deklan, I know nothing.

  Holy shit—I don’t even know his last name.

  I look down, and my chest tightens along with my throat. I can hear the justice of the peace droning on, but I don’t listen to the words. I stare at the ground and try to concentrate on what’s going on around me, but I can’t. I’m only aware of the sensation of Deklan’s hand clasping mine and the sound of my mother sniffling, somewhere behind me.

  It’s taking all my willpower not to let the tears fall.

  “Kera Margaret O’Conner, do you take this man, Deklan Darius Kearney, to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

  Kearney. His last name is Kearney. Kera Kearney. My name will be Kera Kearney.

  “Kera, answer the man so we can get on with this.” Sean’s voice startles me. For a long moment, I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. Sean is staring at me, his lips pressed together and his electric eyes glaring. He taps his finger against the face of the watch on his wrist.

  Oh, yeah—answer the judge.

  “I will.” I manage to say the two simple, damning words without my voice breaking.

  Deklan turns toward me, and Sean hands him a ring. I hold out my left hand, and Deklan reaches for me. He takes me by the hand for a moment, his long fingers moving up to the top of my wrist. For a moment, he uses his thumb to rub the skin right above my wrist bones.

  A tremor runs up my arm. I close my eyes briefly and take in a long breath. The touch against my wrist is identical to the way I often rub at the same spot and has a similar calming effect on my body.

  Deklan slides a giant rock in a bright platinum setting over my ring finger. I stare at it in disbelief for a moment until I feel Teagan smacking my arm. She hands me a similar, much larger platinum band, and I place it on Deklan’s finger with shaking hands.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

  I stand completely still, my stomach churning, as Deklan places one hand at the back of my neck and tilts my head toward his. He has to lean over quite a bit to reach me, and I wonder if I should try to stand on my toes to make it easier for him. I don’t. I can’t move. I stare into his eyes as he closes the gap between us. They’re pale blue and surrounded by long, black lashes. Cold. His intense look makes me shiver, and I close my eyes as he presses his mouth to mine.

  His lips are warm, and he kisses me gently, lingering for a bit before he shifts to the side of my mouth and then runs his nose over my cheek.

  “I’m going to take care of you,” he whispers into my ear.

  His words echo through my head.

  He’s going to take care of me.

  Take care of me.

  What does that mean?

  “Take care” as in be there for me physically and emotionally? Provide and protect and all the other shit the judge said? Or does he mean something more sinister? Did Sean instruct him to “take care of me”?

  Would Sean do that? Would he go through this ceremony just to set my father up and then have his henchman-groom kill me on the wedding night? Is he that sadistic?

  I look over to him, and there’s a half-grin of self-satisfaction on his face. The lightning in his eyes flashes, and a single tear falls down my cheek.

  Yes. Yes, he is.

  Deklan turns to face the rest of the room, and I follow suit. Neil, Lucas, and the two unknown men clap slowly without actually looking at us, and the wedding is over.

  The reception, if you can even call it that, consists of drinks from the globe-bar and a couple of trays of hors d'oeuvres. I spend the time at my new husband’s side as quiet panic builds up inside of me.

  None of it feels real. There is no photographer, no dinner, no music or dancing. There’s no champagne. No one comes up and congratulates us. My mother is still in the same seat, staring blankly at the floor. Dad is helping himself to multiple glasses of whiskey.

  Deklan doesn’t drink anything, and neither do I. I’m not sure if anyone cares that my twenty-first birthday is still a few months away or not, but I don’t even try to acquire any alcohol. Maybe I should. Maybe getting drunk would make all this more bearable.

  It seems to work for my father.

  One of the unnamed men that has been here since the start of the wedding beckons Deklan, and he walks away from me without a word. I watch him lean close to the man as they begin talking softly and then startle when Sean appears behind me.

  “Well, isn’t this all just lovely?”

  I stare at him, wondering what he expects me to say.

  “I did go through some minor effort to pull this together,” Sean says. “Don’t you think you should thank me?”

  “Thank you,” I reply quietly. I quickly look away from his eyes. They’re wide with stormy flashes inside the irises.

  “I was pretty damn generous, really,” he says, continuing. “Neil definitely prefers cock over pussy, and I’m pretty sure Lucas has herpes. I could have done anything I wanted with you, even sold you off to the highest bidder. Yeah, I’d say you should definitely be thanking me”—he grabs my chin and tilts my head to look at him—“and mean it.”

  “Thank you, Sean,” I say quickly. He narrows his eyes at me. “Really, thank you. I’m sure being married to you would have been better, but I’m certain you’re only doing what’s best for everyone.”

  He looks shocked at my response for a moment, then smiles again.

  “I know this is not what you were expecting, but you seem to be taking it all pretty well.”

  “I’m fine,” I tell him. Forcing myself to breathe slowly, I look straight at him. I hope he can’t hear my heart beating. I don’t want him to know how terrified I am. “Deklan seems…nice.”

  Sean snorts.

  “For a killer.”

  I swallow hard. I’ve conditioned myself not to think about such things.

  “You realize there was no way I was ever going to marry you,” Sean says, grinning his maniacal grin. “You were my punishment, you know. Got some slut knocked up and had to send her away so no one would know the kid was mine. My father thought he could teach me a lesson—control me—by making me marry some small-time fuck-up’s daughter, but he couldn’t. I’d say next time, he’ll know better than to drink anything I’ve mixed for him, but it’s kinda late for that.”

  He laughs loudly as my eyes widen, and I process his words.

  Did he…did he kill his own father? Is that what he is telling me?

  Sean leans in close to me.

  “You didn’t lie about being a virgin, did you?”

  “No,” I whisper back.

  “Have you seen your husband?” I stare at him, not knowing how to answer. Sean grabs my arm and points toward Deklan. “Just look at those size-fifteen shoes. You know his cock has got to be a monster. You’re going to get ripped open tonight.”

  I freeze, inside and out, and Sean walks away from me, still laughing.

  I have intentionally not thought about what is going to happen on my wedding night. Even when I thought I was going to marry Sean, I didn’t let myself think about it. In my mother’s words, “It’s just something you have to put up with.”

&nb
sp; I know her thinking is old-fashioned. I know there are plenty of women out there who enjoy sex. I know there are men out there who want to make sure the women they are with enjoy it, too. I’ve masturbated. I know what an orgasm feels like. I’ve also known such things were off the table, considering my betrothal, and so—like most things I can’t control—I have pushed thoughts of sex out of my mind.

  I’ve never seen an actual penis. Pictures, sure, but those were all in the name of online health classes. I’ve heard rumors that the size of a man’s dick corresponds to the size of his feet…or his hands…or his nose…or the gap between his teeth…or a dozen other random body parts. Is there any truth to any of it?

  Every part of Deklan is oversized.

  You’re going to get ripped open tonight.

  Is that a real possibility?

  I had given the act of sex very little thought, but now I can’t get it out of my head.

  Chapter 4

  “This is my place.” Deklan passes by me and walks over to the kitchen where he grabs a coffee cup from the sink. He tilts his head to one side. “Our place, I guess I should say.”

  The apartment is only a few minutes from the Foley estate. Before leaving, my mother had grasped my hands without looking into my eyes and then started crying as Dad hauled her off, and I got into Deklan’s car, scooping the train of my dress up and piling it on my lap as I sat in the low seat of the car.

  It’s a flashy sports car, but I don’t know what kind.

  There was silence the whole drive over here. Deklan didn’t even turn on the radio, and I opted to stare out the window instead of watching him shift gears with his huge hands.

  I swallow hard and look around the sparse apartment, clutching the little bag my mother had packed for me.

  If those home and garden magazines had a special edition for “typical bachelor pad,” this place would fit nicely on the cover. The television is huge. Underneath it is a Blu-ray player and some kind of gaming console. There’s a couch, a recliner, and a coffee table, but that’s it for furniture. The walls are bare. There’s a short hallway that I assume leads to the bathroom and bedroom.

  Bedroom.

  I swallow again.

  The kitchen is big enough to be the eat-in sort, but there is no kitchen table. I watch as Deklan washes out the coffee cup and places it on the top shelf in the cabinet. His shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep breath before turning around.

  “Do you want anything?” he asks.

  Yes. I want to go home.

  I shake my head slowly.

  “You sure? I’ve got bottled water in the fridge.”

  “I’m sure.” My voice sounds small and meek. I feel small just being in this man’s presence. I tense my fingers around the handle of the overnight bag. My palms are sweating, and my grip keeps faltering.

  Deklan lets out a breath and mumbles something I can’t understand. He looks nervous as he runs his hand through his short, dark hair and glances at me.

  “I wasn’t expecting this either,” he says.

  “I know.”

  “I’ve never even had a woman in here before.”

  “You a virgin, too?” The words pop out of my mouth before I have a chance to stop them, and I feel my ears go red.

  “No.” He offers me a wry smile, but his pale eyes remain cold. “I just don’t bring anyone here.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t want people knowing where I live.”

  “Why?”

  “Because someone would try to come here and kill me.”

  “Oh.” I don’t know how else to respond to a statement like that. His answer makes sense, but this isn’t something I’m used to. Talk of illegal activities, shoving piles of money into safety deposit boxes, and the occasional, loose threat, yes, but not murder.

  Of course, when you’re married to a killer—a mafia-backed hitman—there are going to be people out there who want your husband dead. You should have thought about that before you said those two magic words that tied yourself to him.

  I’m married to a murderer.

  I force the thought from my head. I can’t think about such things. There are more pressing matters on the near horizon.

  I’m married, and my non-virginal husband is going to want to make me his non-virginal wife. Sean’s words echo in my head.

  You’re going to get ripped open tonight.

  I close my eyes for a moment and then pretend to look around the room some more.

  “Are you hungry?” Deklan asks.

  “No.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see him run his hand over his head again. He’s nervous, and it’s making me even more nervous.

  When presented with an unpleasant task that you have to accomplish, it’s best for you to just get it over with.

  “Can I use the bathroom?”

  “Yeah,” he says as he points down the hall, “it’s on the left.”

  I grip the handle of the bag again and head down the hall. The bathroom is pretty big. There’s a huge walk-in shower and a large cabinet under the sink. I lock the door behind me and then lean against it, finally letting the tears flow. I let myself cry for a few minutes, trying to keep from sobbing out loud.

  Get a grip.

  I clench and unclench my hands a couple of times to center myself. I can’t just stay in here forever—Deklan will come looking for me. If Mom ever kept Dad waiting, and she didn’t often, there was always hell to pay. My father isn’t a huge man like Deklan is, but his temper is big. I don’t want to find out what Deklan’s anger is like on my wedding night. With a handful of toilet paper, I wipe my nose and eyes. I really want to wash my face and brush my teeth, so I open the bag to look for some toiletries.

  Mom didn’t pack much.

  In fact, she packed almost nothing. The bag contains only the box for my wedding jewelry and one other item. At the bottom of the bag is a flat pink box. I pull it out and open it, wondering why she would put toiletries in a pink box.

  It’s not toiletries. It’s white lingerie.

  It’s sheer silk and feels soft on my fingers. Mom must have purchased it when she still thought I was marrying Sean. It’s my wedding night attire, and Deklan is probably out there, waiting for me to emerge in such an outfit, and I don’t even have any way of cleaning my teeth.

  Maybe Deklan has an extra toothbrush somewhere.

  Glancing back at the locked door, I start opening drawers in cabinets. I find the toothpaste but no extra brush. No hairbrushes either, just a comb. Under the sink, there are boxes of gauze, first-aid tape, and three bottles of rubbing alcohol.

  I take a deep breath and wash my face with the liquid hand soap. At least my cheeks aren’t all red and blotchy now. I toy with the idea of using Deklan’s toothbrush, but considering we had only kissed once, the act seems a little too intimate and a little bit gross.

  I settle for rubbing my teeth with a washcloth and borrowing a bit of mouthwash.

  Looking back at the pink box, I wonder if I should just put it on. The wedding dress is cumbersome, and I certainly can’t wear it to bed. There isn’t a change of clothes in the bag, either.

  Why the hell did she even bother packing me anything?

  I stare at myself in the small mirror that doubles as a medicine cabinet and think about the man in the other room. He said he was going to take care of me. Maybe that means just what I feared.

  It explains Mom’s excessive crying. It also explains why she didn’t pack anything for tomorrow. Maybe she knew I wouldn’t need it.

  But she did pack the sexy nightie.

  This must be the plan then. He’s going to fuck me and then kill me. He’s going to rip me open, and then I’m going to die in his bed.

  The violent thought has a strange, calming effect on me. At least it will be over soon. It’s already very late, well past midnight, and I don’t have to worry about what I’m going to wear in the morning. If I can manage to make Deklan happy, maybe he will at least
kill me quickly.

  I clear my mind as I reach down and remove my shoes. I pull the garter along with the sheer pantyhose from my thigh and shove all of it in the bag. I stand up and reach behind my neck to loosen the dress. The first couple of hooks release easily, but I have to contort myself to get to the next one. I can’t reach the one below it at all.

  “Dammit.” I mutter as I twist around, trying to get the hook with my other hand. It doesn’t work, so I attempt to pull the tight dress up from the waist, but it won’t move.

  Maybe if I get some of the lower hooks first.

  The lower hooks are covered with a long satin ribbon, which laces all the way back to the top. I can’t reach the ties or get to the hooks underneath them. In the mirror, I can see where I need to be, but I can’t reach the right spot.

  My eyes burn as I stare at the little pink box and the contents within. How am I supposed to put that on when I can’t get out of what I’m wearing? I want to scream, but I cover my mouth with my hand and clench my teeth. I reach behind myself to try again, but now my hand is shaking, and I can’t grip the hooks at all.

  The knock at the door startles me enough that I should have popped right out of the dress, but that doesn’t happen.

  “You okay?” Deklan’s voice is muffled through the door.

  “Um…yes?” I immediately turn the water on at the sink to muffle any sounds I might make. “I’m fine.”

  Apparently, the water isn’t enough to hide my panic.

  “Convincing.” His sarcastic tone isn’t lost on me.

  “I just need a minute.”

  “You’ve been in there almost an hour.”

  I have?

  With no other option, I admit my problem.

  “I can’t get my dress off.” I hear the doorknob rattle.

  “Open the door.”

  I look in the mirror again. The blotches on my cheeks have returned. I close my eyes, grip the sink, and take one long breath.

  “Open the fucking door, Kera.” His voice isn’t raised, but his words are harsh enough that I jump to his command and unlock the door.