Unintended

  “Wasn’t planning tae. No good can come from it,” she says.

  “He asked about you.”

  Isobel’s full attention has been captured. “What did he want tae know aboot me?”

  “If you looked the same. If you are happy. If you had asked about him.”

  “I…”

  Their conversation is cut short when Thane, Sin, and Mitch arrive. I requested the entire council be present with the exception of Jamie because I need all of them to be clear about where the fault lies regarding Westlyn’s attack. I also need them to witness with their own eyes to what degree I’m willing to go to avenge this attack on my mate. “Meet Tavis Ewart.”

  “One of your Order members?” Thane says.

  I punch Tavis. “Tell him who you are and how your life came to be intertwined with Westlyn’s.”

  “Abram killed my daughter, so I came to kill his. But this guy told me that she didn’t die, and that means I can’t be charged with murder.”

  Poor bastard doesn’t know that I am his judge and jury. “You attempted to murder my mate, and the punishment is the same.”

  “I’ll get a lawyer. I’ll never do time.”

  “You are correct, Mr. Ewart. You won’t serve a single day in prison.” I’m itching to take out my Magnum, but I hold steady in case Thane has questions for this man. “As you can see, Tavis Ewart is not a member of The Order. Westlyn’s attack was an extension of a murder that Abram committed. My people did not do this to her. Are you satisfied with this as proof, or do you want to question him further?”

  “You aren’t a member of The Order?”

  “Is that some kind of cult or something?”

  Thane flicks his hand. “He’s not Order.”

  “Do you withdraw your objection to my marriage to Westlyn?”

  “I withdraw my objection… and request pardon.” A pardon. Not something a leader ever has to ask for, but he did nonetheless.

  I nod. “Pardon granted.”

  “What the fuck kind of rubbish are you people talking?”

  I choose to forgo torture because the man lost his daughter. He has suffered enough at the hands of Abram Breckenridge.

  I place my Magnum at the back of his head and pull the trigger. Only one shot is needed when it’s coming from one of the most powerful handguns in production.

  “Fuck… fuuuck.” Mitch’s eyes are huge. “You blew off half of his head.”

  I don’t think my new brother-in-law is accustomed to being on this side of business. “This is what happens to anyone who dares to harm Westlyn. I will never hesitate to kill for her… because she is my heart, and I love her.”

  I might as well confess who and what I am since we are going to be allies. “This is what I do. I am an assassin. The best you’ll ever meet. We are now allies, but more importantly, we are family. If you need my services, you need only just ask.”

  Thane offers his hand. “Our alliance is in good standing. Just have to get Westlyn and you married.”

  I want that more than anything.

  The lace sleeves on my new wedding dress are long and come down into a V. They conceal the pink lines all over my lower arms and hands. The neckline is slightly off the shoulder, but it covers the healing slashes on my chest. The ones on my face, those can’t be hidden. Only camouflaged with cosmetics.

  Kieran says that he doesn’t see my scars. I know he does; he gives himself away because he kisses them often.

  Jamie says I’m healing well, and with more time he expects minimal scarring for most of the wounds. I hope he’s right. I want as few reminders of the attack as possible. I want to put it behind me and move on with my life. My life with Kieran as my husband.

  We were forced to postpone the wedding longer than either of us wanted. Recovery has been harder than expected because so many of my wounds are located in areas where my skin must stretch to accommodate movement. It’s been some agonizing months. Agonizing because of the pain, but also agonizing because I want so desperately to be married to Kieran. Today, we finally become husband and wife.

  “The zipper isn’t cooperating. You’re going to have to suck in.”

  “Easier said than done.” My belly has had a growth spurt since my final dress fitting. It’s like I went to bed with a flat stomach and woke up with a bump.

  “She’s already getting fat.” It’s just like my mother to say something like that.

  “She’s not fat. Her body is expanding to accommodate the bairn inside her,” Isobel says.

  I might be self-conscious about the way my body is expanding if Kieran didn’t constantly tell me how beautiful I look with his child inside me. I thought he was insatiable before, but he can’t keep his hands off me and my growing belly.

  Lorna pulls harder on the zipper and I feel the dress suddenly become tight around my waist. “Got it.”

  “Mmm… that is tight. I hope I make it through the ceremony and reception without busting the seams.” The seamstress expanded it as much as she could. There’s not a lot of fabric inside the seams holding this dress together.

  Bleu studies my waist. “Are you sure you don’t have twins? That’s exactly what my belly did when I was pregnant with the boys.”

  I place my hand over my bump. “Doctor says there’s only one in here.”

  “And let’s all pray that it’s a boy.” My mother wants the bragging rights of calling herself the grandmother of the next leader.

  I know Kieran would love to have a son. I would too, but now that I’m pregnant, he also says that he’d love to have a little girl with my hair and eyes. “Kieran and I will be happy with whatever we get. We’re far more concerned with our child being born healthy.”

  I was barely pregnant when I was attacked. I know that the baby wasn’t injured, but I’ve taken so many drugs the last several months. Jamie says they’re all safe for the baby, but I always have that fear in the back of my mind… that maybe I harmed my own child by taking medicine for pain when I should have suffered through it.

  “Kieran may say that he’ll be happy with whatever you get, but he wants a boy. Trust me. They all do. Your father wanted all boys. He was very angry that you and Evanna were girls.”

  What a shitty thing to say to your daughter—even if it is the truth—on her wedding day. I might be hurt if I didn’t know that my father was an evil bastard.

  “Stop talking, Torrie.” Isobel warns. “Ye’ve not said anything positive the entire day, so shut yer gob.”

  “Westlyn doesn’t know how men are. I’m just telling her how her husband really feels.”

  “Say another word and I’ll slap ye so hard that yer ears ring. And it won’t be church bells ye’re hearing.” Isobel isn’t kidding. She’ll do it. She’s done it before.

  “Maybe she’ll renounce you too, so you don’t have to listen to her bullshit anymore,” Evanna whispers.

  “I wish.” But there’s no way my mother would renounce me. I’m marrying a leader. Her new son-in-law has too much money and power for her to walk away from me.

  My mother renounced Jamie for marrying Ellison. She renounced Evanna for being in love with a cleaner—a brother who cleans up the bloody mess and bodies following a kill. Mother says that Craig is the lowest of the low and beneath Evanna’s status. But Evanna has chosen him; she loves him. He has claimed her, and they are going to be married at the end of the month.

  I’m proud of my sister. She’s no longer allowing Mum to control her.

  Isobel places her hand on my arm. “It’s almost time. We should probably go.”

  I look at my reflection one last time. Not much longer as Westlyn Breckenridge. I’ll be Mrs. Kieran Bryce Hendry the next time I look at myself in the mirror. “I’m ready.”

  I’m standing in the center of a stone arch between two large round pillars in St. Giles Cathedral, waiting for my beloved. It’s an unusually sunny day. Rays of sunlight passing through the stained-glass windows look like modern-day graffiti on the centuries-old stone
surrounding us.

  The bridal chorus begins, and Thane and Westlyn enter the cathedral. They must walk from my left to reach the center aisle. Thane’s body is blocking my view of Westlyn, but then they reach the aisle and turn to face me, giving me my first look at my bride.

  And I can’t take my eyes off of her.

  She’s so beautiful, it takes my breath away.

  People use that expression all the time. I thought it was just a saying, but it’s a real thing, and this moment is proof of it. My face and hands are tingling. My heart is beating so fast that it can’t carry oxygen to my brain fast enough to keep up with the sudden demand.

  Westlyn’s arm is looped through Thane’s, and they begin their walk toward us. I had no idea what her dress and veil would look like this time or how she would wear her hair, but everything about her is perfection. Slightly off-white in color. A strapless dress with a lace overlay, her shoulders peeking out at the top. Her body is covered so she appears chaste, but she’s showing just enough skin to be sexy. Gorgeous.

  She smiles, and her eyes never leave mine as she approaches. Thane shakes my hand and kisses Westlyn’s cheek before placing her hand in mine.

  She turns and passes her bouquet of white roses to Evanna and then places both hands in mine. I slowly rub my thumbs back and forth over the top of her hands, hearing little of what the minister is saying.

  Our ceremony is traditional. Music. Vows. Ring exchange. We’re saving our true vows for the reception.

  The minster rambles on for too long as I anxiously wait to hear him tell me to kiss my bride. When he finally does, I lean close and cradle her face. “Mo chroí.”

  “Mo chroí.”

  I press a soft, loving kiss against her lips. Nothing too passionate. I’m saving that for later when we’re alone.

  “I now present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Kieran Bryce Hendry.”

  A large white tent stands in the backyard of our compound. It covers tables adorned in white cloth with glowing candles and huge floral arrangements. Several crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, making this outdoor room feel elegant, courtesy of the event planning done by Isobel and my mother… and overseen by Torrie. Which means Isobel and my mum did all of the work.

  My father has Westlyn and I join him on a raised platform in front of all of the guests—members of The Syndicate, The Fellowship, and The Order. There are hundreds of people in attendance. “We gather here tonight to celebrate the marriage of my eldest son, Kieran Bryce Hendry of The Order, formerly of The Syndicate, to Westlyn Leigh Breckenridge Hendry of The Fellowship. We are also celebrating the inception of Westlyn into The Order as one of our own.”

  My wife and I approach the small table adorned to match the larger tables throughout with one exception—a dagger. The bleeding ceremony is traditional. It can’t be skipped, but I’ve dreaded doing this—slicing Westlyn’s skin so we can bleed together.

  “Kieran Bryce Hendry, do you accept responsibility for Westlyn Leigh Breckenridge Hendry?”

  “I do.”

  “Take the dagger.”

  I lift it as my father instructs and take Westlyn’s hand in mine. “Don’t watch. Close your eyes.”

  “I think it’ll be worse if I don’t watch.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nods. “Yes,” she whispers. My lass is so strong. So brave.

  I drag the blade across the center of her palm as lightly as I can to bring blood. I pierce my own and lace our fingers together so we’re palm to palm. Blood, mostly mine, runs the length of our forearms, saturating our sleeves.

  “Your wife is also your novice to teach and guide in the ways of our brotherhood. Do you accept responsibility for her?”

  “Aye.” I squeeze her hand, my eyes locked on hers. “I do.”

  “Repeat after me, Westlyn.” My father states The Order decree, which they adopted from The Syndicate. It’s something I’ve heard my entire life. “Do you swear to keep these vows?”

  “I do.”

  I bring her hand to my mouth. “Your blood is my blood, as mine is now yours. From this day forward, we are one.”

  Westlyn is my wife. We’ve shared blood, and she’s been incepted into The Order. She carries a piece of me inside her… our firstborn. One of many to come. It all gives me a fierce satisfaction. It isn’t possible for her to belong to me more than she does now, yet I want to possess more of her.

  Hold her. Stroke her silky skin. Feel her shudder with pleasure while my cock slides in and out of her.

  I will do every one of those things later tonight when we’re at home.

  Westlyn is wearing an ivory satin and lace gown fitting for a virgin on her wedding night. But my wife is no virgin, and she sure doesn’t expect or want to be treated like one. The pregnancy hormones have made her insatiable the last few weeks.

  One look at her in that satin and my cock is hard, throbbing with the need to be inside her. The closer she comes to where I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, the more I ache in my balls. “I’ve never seen you look more beautiful than today.”

  “And I’ve never seen you look sexier.” My bride parts my legs and stands between them. She pushes my kilt up my thighs, her fingertips skimming through the bristly hairs on my legs. “The kilt is a nice change from the suit. Thank you for leaving it on.”

  “Anything to make my wife happy.”

  I pull up her gown and slowly slide my hand up the inside of her leg, feeling her thigh muscles quiver with tension. My fingers brush against her pussy, parting the soft lips, and I push the tip of my middle finger into her tight opening, using my thumb to massage her clit at the same time.

  She bites her bottom lip and moans. “Mmm…”

  “You like that, don’t you, doll?”

  She lifts one knee and rests it on the bed, giving me full access between her parted legs. “Mmm… hmm. Everything down there is so super sensitive lately. Feels so much more intense.”

  My finger smoothly glides in and out of her warm, slick hole. She rocks her hips against my finger, and a choked cry comes from her throat. “More?”

  “Yes.”

  I insert another finger and fuck her with the pair, my thumb still rubbing her clit in a circular motion. My thrusts become harder, and she grips my thighs for balance. Reminds me of that first night together in the back of the limo when she was on her knees and had to use my legs to balance herself during the car ride.

  Her head falls back, her eyes close, and her mouth parts. The pattern of her breathing instantly changes from calm and quiet to fast and labored. “Ohh… Kieran.”

  Fuck, I love hearing my name on her lips, but I especially love when it comes out as part of a breathless moan.

  Her entire body tenses, and her fingers dig into the flesh on my thighs, painfully so. She cries out my name as her inner walls squeeze my fingers in release, the gripping motion making my dick throb to be inside her.

  I revel in watching her come apart in my arms. I love that I’m able to do this to her. And I love that I’m the only man who’s ever brought her to this kind of pleasure.

  I grip the satin fabric and pull upward, tossing her gown to the floor. We’re both bare, with the exception of my kilt. But it’s staying on per my wife’s request.

  I slide my hands under her bum and pick her up as I rise to my feet, simultaneously flipping and lowering our bodies to the bed so that I’m topping her. But I ignore my aching cock and what he wants. This is our wedding night. I want this to be a night she never forgets; therefore, I am not finished bringing her pleasure.

  I move down and begin with small kisses on the insides of her thighs, moving up until I reach my goal: her wet pussy—pink, swollen, and glistening from the orgasm I just gave her. “What are you doing?”

  I always make sure she comes first, unless she wants to blow me, but then I move on to pleasing myself. I never give her two orgasms ahead of my own. “I’m going to make you come again.”

  “I don’t think I can do i
t back-to-back like that.”

  “How do you know? I’ve never tried.” I spread her folds apart with my fingers. “Relax. Let me do what I do best.”

  She spreads her legs farther apart and rocks her hips when I flick my tongue over her clit. Her hand moves to the top of my head, and she laces her fingers into my hair, lightly scratching my scalp with her freshly manicured nails. “You are so good at this.”

  I stop and swallow. “I know.”

  I push my tongue inside, tongue fucking her as deeply as I can, and tasting her recent orgasm. I savor every drop. I delight in every gasp and moan that comes from her lips as my tongue massages the bundle of sexual nerves in the roof of her pussy—that ultra-sensitive spot that evokes her strongest orgasms.

  “Ohh… Kieran. I’m going to come again.”

  I knew I could fucking do it, but I didn’t know I could do it that fast.

  She trembles, her thighs quivering with ecstasy, and my mouth is flooded with her sweet juice. “Oh, fuck, Kieran…” She bucks her hips from the bed and grinds her pussy against my tongue.

  I crawl up her body after she goes limp and releases my hair. I stop briefly to press kisses to her belly and then continue up her body until we’re face-to-face. Heart-to-heart. Her arms wrap around my shoulders, and I feel her breasts pushing against my chest, her nipples like hard little pebbles.

  I press a kiss to her mouth. “Mo chroí.”

  She smiles. “Mo chroí.”

  Her sweet smile. Her precious words. Both make my cock throb harder, begging for his release. My self-control tank is drained.

  Fuck, I have to have her. Now.

  I use my knees to push her legs apart and press the head of my cock against her drenched center, slowly sliding into her until I’m balls deep. “Ohh… fuck…”

  Her wet flesh welcomes my cock and accommodates it. No matter how many times I take her, I’m always amazed by how tight she is. The way her body squeezes mine makes my spine tingle and my balls draw up against my body.