by Stasia Black
He flipped back and forth through the book, as if trying to find the right page. “Fuck, now where did it go?”
“Church!” Ross whispered loudly at the same time as several people in the audience gasped.
The pastor didn’t seem to notice, though. He was already moving on in a booming voice. “We gather here today to celebrate the wedding of Vanessa, Michael, Camden, and…” He paused, looking between the twins, “which one are you again?”
“Riordan,” Riordan said quickly, getting ahead of his brother.
“And Ross,” Ross added.
The pastor scrunched his brow. “Where’s the fifth?”
“Here!” roared a new voice from the back of the church and a wave of relief swept through Vanessa.
He’d come.
Logan had come.
Vanessa turned around to beam at him but then her eyes widened in horror. What the— She tossed the flowers Sophia had given her to hold to the floor and dashed down the aisle to him. He was bloodied with a swollen cheek and eye.
“What happened?” she cried, barely stopping herself from throwing her arms around him.
Which was dumb. Freaking idiotic. She barely knew him. It was probably the idea of him more than the man himself she’d let herself become attached to in such a short time. But still.
Seeing him bruised and bloody made her chest ache in a way that was foreign. Like a ghost pain from a lost limb. She just hadn’t had anyone to care about in so long she’d forgotten what it felt like.
“Nothing. Now let’s do this.” Logan took her elbow and practically dragged her along with him to the altar.
What the—
“Are you kidding me?” Vanessa looked at him incredulously. “It’s not nothing. You look like you got hit by a Mack truck.”
“Just perfect,” Cam muttered. “This is going to look so great in the papers.”
As soon as they got back to the alter, Pastor Jonas started up again. “You have all come today to share in the commitment these people make to each other…”
“Who did this to you?” Ross hissed under his breath to Logan.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Where is he?” Riordan asked. “The guy who jumped you. I could probably take him.”
“To offer your love and support to their union…”
Logan gave Riordan a look that said he was less than impressed. Vanessa tried to focus on what the pastor was saying but her soon to be husbands had apparently decided her wedding was the perfect time to chat it up.
“Marriage is a permanent union,” Pastor Jonas stated, oblivious to everything. “Until death do you part.”
“No way, kid,” Cam smirked Riordan’s direction. “If anyone wants to mess with this clan, I’ll be the one who straightens them out.”
“God help us,” Michael muttered.
“The six of you will no longer live for yourselves alone. You will belong to one another. An unbroken circle. You must trust, love, and respect one another.”
“Is that right?” Riordan asked. “And who the hell are you? Oh, I forgot, you’re a nurse, right?”
Vanessa held her breath and tried counting to calm herself down. Why weren’t they listening to the pastor? Fine, he might be stoned, but he was still making good points. Trust and respect. The other one she didn’t expect, but goddammit, they could try showing a little respect.
“If you’ve got something to say to me, just come out and say it,” Cam said, bumping his chest against Riordan’s.
“For the love of God, people, we are in a church!” Ross yelled. “We are at the altar. We’re supposed to be getting fucking married.”
“Ross!” yelled the short, stocky woman who’d been crying earlier. “Language!”
“Save it, ma,” said Riordan.
“Enough,” Logan all but roared and everything quieted. The pastor. The other husbands. The whispering congregation.
Logan glared at Cam, Riordan, and Ross. “Are you boys or are you men? Because standing right in front of us is a good woman. And she deserves to marry men. If you can’t be that to her, then get the hell off this altar. Right now.”
Vanessa held her breath. He’d stood up for her. Demanded respect. No one had ever done that for her before. Ever in her whole life.
Cam looked to the floor like he was ashamed. Riordan’s jaw went tight. He didn’t seem to like anyone telling him what to do but he glanced at Vanessa and then gave a quick, tight nod. And Ross, well, Ross was staring at Logan like he was the best thing since sliced bread.
But no one moved. No one left.
Holy crap. This whole thing might actually work. This was the first time that she really, truly believed it.
The pastor went through the rest of the short ceremony. The I do’s were said with seriousness and solemnity, and the rings exchanged.
What Logan had said had really sunk in.
At least Vanessa thought so, until Pastor Jonas announced, “You may now kiss the bride.”
At first things were fine. The pastor gestured toward Logan. “As the head of Clan Washington, Logan, you go first.”
Vanessa watched the vein in Logan’s throat bulge, but he stepped forward and before Vanessa could even appreciate what was happening, he bobbed his head down and pressed the briefest, most chaste kiss on her lips.
She blinked and it was already over and Logan had pulled back.
She didn’t have long to overthink it, either, because Cam and Riordan were shoving the others out of the way in their rush to get to Vanessa next. Riordan pushed Ross out of the way, and Ross stumbled into Michael, who let out an earth-shattering scream.
At the same time, Cam reached Vanessa first, tugging her toward him and away from Riordan. In the same motion, he dipped her backwards like he was going in for one of those old Hollywood smooches.
“Cam!” she gasped, and not just because he’d spun her body off balance and was now closing in for a kiss.
“What sweetheart?” he asked, lips only centimeters from hers.
“Fire!” she squeaked, squirming in his arms.
“I know, sweetheart,” he grinned. “I feel it too.”
“No, you idiot,” Logan yelled. “You lit her dress on fire!”
“What?” Cam’s eyes widened as he looked behind her and saw what they meant. When he’d spun her so dramatically, her arm was flung out at an awkward angle, hitting one of the tall candlesticks.
The candle tipped out of its socket and landed on the train of her dress. The old fabric went up like a torch, blazing up toward the back of her legs.
Get it off, get it off. Vanessa screamed and tried uselessly to yank the dress down and off her as heat singed the back of her legs. There were yells and shouts from all sides.
And then a body slammed into her from behind, taking her to the ground.
Camden, she realized, as they hit the floor and he immediately started rolling with her, slapping at the flames until the fire was out.
They both lay there heaving together. Vanessa blinked as she looked at the large section of the back of her dress that had been totally melted away, the edges blackened. Cam’s face was sooty, and his tuxedo a mess.
Ross, Logan, and Riordan swarmed Cam and Vanessa to see if they were okay.
All the while, the camera flash bulbs burst, filling the room with exploding blossoms of clear white light.
Chapter Ten
MICHAEL
Michael couldn’t stop staring at Vanessa for the entirety of the short ride home. After they arrived at their new little ranch-style house, she hurried inside and down the hall to the master bedroom to "freshen up.”
The other guys started chattering but Michael barely heard them. He couldn’t stop staring after Vanessa.
She was so beautiful. Even malnourished and battered. He winced just thinking about it. Every time he looked at her cuts and bruises he literally felt nauseated. How could anyone do that to her?
He’d always been too sensitive. That
was his mom’s word for him. Dad’s was pussy.
More than anything, he wanted to fold Vanessa in his arms and hold her close, assuring her that they’d protect her and nothing else would hurt her.
Too bad you’re a screwed-up freak.
He could never offer her a comforting touch. Never bandage up a scrape or push back a stray hair from her face.
Never kiss those tempting pink lips of hers…
“This is it?” Cam’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Isn’t it a little…small?”
“What were you expecting?” Ross asked. “The Taj Mahal?”
“The Taj Ma-what?” Riordan asked, rolling his eyes. “Quit being such a know-it-all.”
“No, I just thought they always gave clan families really nice houses and this is just…” Cam scanned the house, disappointment clear in his face.
Michael thought the place was nice now that he looked around. Normal. Homey. The furniture looked comfortable and there was even a leather couch in the living room.
It had been a long time since Michael had a home. A real one anyway. The garage apartment didn’t count.
“So how are we gonna do this?” Cam asked. “Do we all go in there at once? Or like, take turns, or what?”
“Jesus,” Logan swung around from where he’d been staring out the window.
“What?” Cam asked, flinging his arms out. “It’s a valid question.”
Logan heaved a breath out.
“We should let Vanessa take the lead,” Michael said.
“Well if we’re going in turns, then it only makes sense for someone with experience to go first,” Cam said.
“Bullshit,” Riordan said, taking a step toward Cam.
“Let me guess?” Cam smirked at Riordan. “You think the youngest should go first? Well sorry, kid, this isn’t like some school field trip. A woman needs to be primed before you go in and—”
“So I learn,” Riordan said. “She can teach me how she likes to be touched.”
“Would you idiots shut up?” Logan hissed. “Are you forgetting how we found her? Or how she flipped you on your ass and even managed to disarm me, a trained security officer? You think a woman learns that kind of self-defense for nothing?”
“What do you mean?” Ross asked.
The nausea was hitting Michael again. Hard.
“He means she might have been…” Michael couldn’t even finish the sentence.
“Oh shit.” Cam ran a hand down his face.
“What?” Ross asked, looking around at them all.
“That if she’s had sex, it might not have been consensual,” Logan said, through gritted teeth. His fists were balled like he wanted to hit something even thinking about it.
Both Ross and Riordan’s eyes widened with horror.
“Let me go talk to her,” Michael said. “I’ll ask her what she wants to do. I’m not a threat,” he gave a somewhat humorless laugh. “I can’t even touch her.”
Logan was already nodding and seeing him, Ross started nodding too.
“Sounds like a good idea,” Ross said.
Michael turned around without a word and headed down the hallway to the master bedroom at the back of the house.
Even though he’d volunteered, the butterflies attacking his stomach combined with the nausea that already had his insides churning weren’t amazing for his confidence. But he’d faced more terrifying things in his life.
After one especially bad meltdown when he was ten—on a school field trip to a local museum—his parents had gotten into a huge fight. Dad had accused Mama of coddling him. He said if she didn’t let him raise Michael the way a man ought to be raised, then he was done. He was leaving.
Mama told him to pack his bags.
Michael didn’t leave the house much after that. Mama let him do online school and things were good. Well, as good as they could be.
He even had friends. Good ones. He’d spend all day online, talking over a phone app to his friends and gaming when he wasn’t in school.
Not being able to touch anyone barely seemed like a disability at all. He did everything by voice command so he didn’t even have to touch the laptop keys if he didn’t want to.
He didn’t leave the house from the time he was fifteen until he was twenty-two. He did freelance writing gigs here and there to help Mama out with the bills. He even had an online girlfriend for a while.
They broke up because he found out she was “dating" a couple other guys in their group of friends. But still. Life was good.
Until it all fell apart. Mama got sick. All the women got sick. People outside started going crazy.
Then Mama died. A couple months later, the lights went out.
No more computer.
No more internet.
No more nothing.
And he survived that, hadn’t he? He never thought he’d be able to take that first step out his front door after eight years never leaving the house. But he had. He’d done that and he’d gotten to Jacob’s Well and he’d even become a reporter at the Gazette where it was his job to go out into the world and interact with people on a daily basis.
So going in to talk to his new bride on their wedding night was nothing compared to that, right?
Right?
His hand was on the doorknob and pushing the door open, so there was no turning back now. Which was usually the way it worked.
Like learning to swim—jump in the damn deep end. You figured out how to swim or you drowned.
He hadn’t drowned yet.
He knocked on the door as he pushed it open. He didn’t peek around the door until her soft voice called, “Come in.”
When he came in she was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands plucking nervously at the bedspread.
She was only wearing a tiny little camisole and itty bitty sleep shorts.
Michael swallowed hard, fighting the stiffy growing in his shorts.
“Hi,” she said, laughing a little awkwardly. Then she tilted her head, looking behind him. “Um. Where’s everyone else?”
He cleared his throat. “That’s what I’m here to talk to you about. I’m sort of an ambassador.”
Her eyebrows went up and Michael felt stupid. Ambassador? God. “I just mean, we wanted to— Or well, we didn’t want to—” Goddammit, could he stop putting his foot in it? “Overwhelm you.” He finished lamely.
“We thought maybe well, if you’d had any bad experiences and didn’t want to, you know,” he gestured at the bed, “um, do anything right off the bat. That’s okay, because, you know, we would never force you to, or expect anything you weren’t—”
“Oh, no! You didn’t think… No, Michael.” She stood up and went to grab his hand, but he yanked it away just in time.
“Oh,” she stopped and pulled her hands back to her chest. “Sorry.” She sat back down on the bed.
Michael felt the back of his neck heating up. God he was such a freak. She was apologizing to him?
But the next second she went on, “No, no one has ever…” Her eyes went distant and then she shuddered
“But they tried,” he said, feeling the anger bubbling up.
“Sure, they tried,” she shrugged, trying and failing for a smile. “Most didn’t live to try twice. A couple got close and survived.” Her eyes got that faraway look again and Michael got the feeling that she wasn’t with him.
“But you got away?” Michael asked, hating whatever memory she was reliving. He wished so much that he could reach out and touch her. Hold her. Anything to bring her back to him.
His voice seemed to do the trick though. Her eyes met his again. “One burned down my shelter. Another stole my goat. You know how hard it is to live in a world without cheese?” She said it like a joke but her smile didn’t reach her eyes.
Michael had spent most of his adult life watching from the outside in. If there was one thing he was good at, it was reading people.
Michael shook his head. “So you’re untouched?” He needed the reassura
nce of hearing it out loud one more time.
Blood rushed into her lovely face. “I hadn’t even been kissed until today.”
Michael’s mouth popped open. How was that possible? A girl who was both exciting and sweet, delicate and aggressive… She was an intoxicating combination of everything sexy and she had to be only, what, twenty-four or twenty-five at most? How had she not been kissed senseless every day of her young adult life?
“So was that your only objection?”
“Oh. Um. Well we also didn’t know if you wanted to set up, like, a schedule. Or if you’d rather… we could come all together. But not if you don’t— You know, just whatever you’d prefer.”
Her eyebrows went up at his words. Shit. Had he said something wrong?
“Well what I want right now…” she trailed off, her eyelashes dropping for a moment before her eyes flicked back up to him in a way that had him sucking in a breath. “is to look at you. All of you.”
Her words shocked Michael right out of his thoughts. “Wh— What?”
She blinked those big brown doe eyes at him again. “You are my husband, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but…”
“Michael. I won’t touch you, I promise.” Looking into her eyes, he trusted she was telling the truth. And he also saw the honesty there when she said, “but I’m curious. I’ve never— It’s never been safe to— I’ve always wondered what a man looks like… down there.” Her cheeks colored and Michael realized he wasn’t the only one nervous here.
And what she was asking… his cock immediately went stiff in his shorts.
And she was being brave, so he could be too. Even though sweat beaded up on the back of his neck as he clarified, “You want me to strip for you?”
She shrugged one narrow shoulder. “Would you mind?”
Michael stared for a second, then he realized this was karma for all the times Ana had stripped for him and he’d passively watched. Now the tables were turned.
“Where do you want me?” He fought a nervous smile.
“Over there,” she said, gesturing at the windowless wall across from where she sat.
Michael walked to the wall, feeling all the hairs on his arms stand on end. “Here?” he asked, turning to face her.
