“Dammit,” I cry, holding onto her and refusing to let go. I sob against her neck. “I hate how much you are inside of me.”
“I love every single fucking thing about you—from your hotheaded arrogance to your cocky showy displays to your admitting to need Cruz the way you do. I love it all. And I don’t want to change a thing. Not a thing. Because you are imperfectly warped and defectively flawed and arrantly beautiful in my eyes.”
She pulls back and I cannot help but stare. “Where the hell did you come from?”
“Japan; I took a jet.” She grins wide and tightens her legs around me.
With her in my arms, I chuckle and toss my head. “… What am I going to do with you?”
“I’m kind of hoping you like get down on one knee again, cause that was e-p-i-c…and maybe officially propose…and we get married…and build a wonderful life together, but first we should date.”
“We should…date?”
“Yep!”
“… Are you fucking crazy?”
Her smile widens. “Only about you.”
“Do I get to walk you to the door and give you a peck?”
With big eyes, she nods. “Yeah, and don’t think you are getting any until like the tenth date.”
“… Ten?” I almost choke. “You realize my dick is in you now?”
“This doesn’t count.” She winks, teasing me, as I pull out only to pummel in resistant and nimble. “Ohhh! You gonna fuck it like you own it now, big boy? Fuck me, hard and fast.”
“I always have,” I bait, biting at her neck. “And now I’m going to stain it.”
“God, yes! Make me come, Sal!”
I don’t stop, letting her have all of me. I spare nothing, gripping her hips and taking her to a place of pure bliss. Her eyes shutter closed and I know I’ve hit a nerve. “Baby, don’t cry.”
“Don’t leave me again.”
“Not only am I not leaving again,” I promise, making the vow. “I’m never sleeping with another woman again.”
Her mouth opens and she reaches to cover it, but I hold back her hand as her tears cascade like waterfalls. “Did you just offer me a commitment?”
“Be my girlfriend, Iris Nakamura?”
“… Exclusive?” She hysterically wails, ducking her head to her chest. “I mean except for our pet pet.”
“Yes, exclusive commitment,” I reply, lifting her chin. “110%. All yours. Sal Raniero is off the market.”
“… The only girl?”
“The only girl,” I swear, running the back of my hand over her cheek. “You’re it, baby.”
“Okay, maybe the first date we can screw.”
I deviously snarl. “There’s my girl.”
“I don’t just want to be your girl,” she whispers, laying her hands on my chest. “I want to be your wife, your lover, your slut, and your hungry whore. And whatever else you need me to be. I want to be your everything.”
Her words strike my heart with reverberating rhythm. “Be my submissive.”
“Yes, Master…but there is no need to ask…all of me belongs to you.”
“Let me whip you,” I mutter low, needing her dedication to the part of me I’ve suppressed for so long. “Let me taunt and torture you and bring you all the pleasure and pain.”
“Yes, I give you consent,” she replies, kissing my lips. “To do whatever. No limits. My safeword is going to be you’re a nasty boy.”
I break into a smile and cannot hold back the laughter. “I’m a nasty boy, huh?”
“Yeah,” she giggles amidst the emotional hurdles. We have miles to go, but we’ll do it hand in hand. “You need to seal this contract with a kiss of your cum.”
I move slow, purposeful. “We’re so having bubbles tonight!”
“Uh huh!” She giggles. “And cake.”
“Anything you want, baby,” I growl, knowing if I dance in her dampness, I will explode. “Anything at all.”
“Another ride on your bike,” she requests as I pull her closer. “And on a horse.”
“Oh, you liked that…”
“I like anything where you lead,” she quips as I pump fluidly into her. “And the more hip shaking…thrusting…driving into me, the better.”
“Jesus,” I groan, breaking into a sweat as each thrust becomes more intense than the last. I give her full strokes of my cock, wanting the tidal wave of her to immerse me. “I’m going to come, Iris…”
“Do it, Sal…fuck me…take me, baby.”
“God, yes…I need you so bad,” I sneer as she grabs hold of me. She trusts all of me and I won’t fail her. I won’t let her down. Not now. Not ever. “Your pussy is gripping so tight onto my dick.”
“Because I love you,” she squeals, quenching my fires with her flood as I erupt with a heavy grunt. “I love you. I love you.” Tears glisten over her cheeks as I rock and spill every drop of dew into her flower.
“I love you!” I boast, embracing her delicate body so close she becomes a part of me. I growl through my final propulsions. “I have to go do this.”
“Yes, you do.” I hand her the tissue box and she blots her eyes. “Be brave. Be strong. Be unapologetically in fucking love with me. Because I love you more than words.”
I grin like the boy who just won it all.
Because I did.
She is my game over.
There is nothing more. No more levels to achieve. No more coin to gain.
Iris Nakamura is mine.
I win.
“This is the second time I’ve had my jeans around my ankles in this room.”
“I know,” she muses with a wink. “I told Deacon to do it.”
“You love me,” I brag, helping her dress and locking my fingers with hers. “So fucking much.”
“I love you.” I take a breath and so does she. “So fucking much.”
“Go out there with the same fierceness that hit the gas at Juliet. Go out there with the same brutal resolve that forced me to behave better. Go out there and take control like the savage beast you were at the palace. Go out there and be you, Salvatore. Because I am in love with him.”
I give her a final kiss. “I’ll be right back.”
Opening the door, I don’t see Deacon as I start the slow dreadful walk of doom towards the cathedral. I check my watch. It’s twenty-three minutes later. I’m between the dressing room and the big wooden doors when the unmistakable sound of bullets zip through the air.
Ping—ping—ping—ping….
… over and over and over again.
“Iris!!!” I roar, not hesitating or caring, as I twist back to the dressing room and fly through the door, only to crash on top of her hunkered body. I shield her from the war as another round of ping—ping—ping—ping blares in my ears, and then hasty gunfire rings out—single shots from Reckless Rebellion or The Suits.
Expecting more, I press my stocky frame over her tiny body, pushing down, as flat as we can go. Clutching my hat in her hand, she is on her belly when I kiss her cheek and whisper, “Are you hurt?”
“No,” she replies as the sound of screams fill the church. “I’m fine, Sal.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, baby,” she says as I call 911 and Vega. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say, genuinely believing I am as long as she is. “I have to go out there.”
“No!” Horror fills her shadowy blue eyes as more bullets fire off. “You can’t!”
“I have to,” I insist, knowing I have an obligation—a responsibility. “Our family is out there.”
“Get my purse,” she rallies like my only cheerleader as I scour the floor and the shooting ceases. “The extra mag is in the pocket.”
Ripping open the bag, I grab the .45 and marvel, “You never go anywhere without a bang.”
“I am the Lotus Queen, Sal.”
“And I’m your fucking samurai.” I hover over her as she rolls onto her back. “Let me go do what I do best. I will be right back.”
Hearing the lone bullet, I peer up and caution, “Don’t kill Cruz.”
She threatens, “He’s going to help me slaughter the horses and bury the innocent.”
The gruesome thought sends a chill through me—she is not a good guy. She is a very bad girl. “You’re my kind of dark.”
“Then I’m keeping good company considering the Dark Prince’s cum is dripping out of me,” she laughs through the uncontrollable sobs as she clutches to me. This could be our last minute…our last moment—and yet, we’re flirting as we commiserate in the kingdom of hell—together. It’s fucked up but so good. She understands. And so do I. “God, be careful!”
“I love you,” I profess, pressing my lips to hers. I know it could be our final one. “Be good.”
“Always,” she whispers, stealing one more kiss. “Forever.”
I crack open the door, peeking out before sliding along the wall to the side door. I catch sight of a woman who looks startlingly like a dead man—Jack Kerris’ daughter—Petra Soryn. And another woman I know quite well. Her fluttering red coat dashes for the exit as the calculating smile ignites in her expression. Her dark chocolate hair waves like a victory banner.
“Amber…”
“This is what real love does,” she whispers, approaching slow. She tenderly kisses my lips and walks towards the door. “Don’t forget what I did for you today. In The Beekeeper’s name, we pray.”
“… Cas?” I blink, completely frozen in disbelief by her words. I peer into the cathedral as the absolute insanity unfolds. The cathedral is bathed with blood and smeared with carnage as the frantic living scurry to recollect. “… What the fuck did you do? No! Amber!” She’s gone as I run outside into the darkness just in time to see the SUV pulling out onto the street. “No! Oh, God! No!”
I rush back to the dressing room. “It’s over. It was Amber.”
“… You saw her?”
“She’s fucking gone… She did it with Soryn and the blessing of Cas… I fucking froze, Iris.”
“Come on!” Iris screams, bringing my mind out of the shock and grabbing my hand. “We have to go help!” She takes off running and I follow her to the big wooden doors. I prop them open as I see the red and blue lights of the first responders. “Deacon!” Iris bellows. “Deacon!”
The unyielding noise rattles the core processor as people cry and come to terms with what just happened. I see Donatien pulling Mae from underneath Dale. “I have a baby!” He shouts, marching towards me, as she screeches with a blood curdling cry. “She's terrified!”
“Give her to me!” I shout, making my way through the glass and people. “That’s Mae! Where is her Dad?”
“Sal…” Mae whimpers in my arms. Her cherubic face is splattered with blood as she stretches out her little arms and bellows, “Sal… Daddy…”
“I’m going back,” Donatien replies, remarkably calm. His demeanor brings my heat down. “He was near the front.”
“Deacon!” Iris hysterically cries out. “Deacon Cruz!”
The paramedics rush in as I stride towards them with Baby Mae, screaming in my arms. “Looks like she is okay, just scared and covered in blood.” I glance at Mae. “I will see you soon, okay? You go with these men, so I can go help Daddy.”
The anguish on her face tears me apart, shredding my insides, and destroying any remaining empathy I have for the vile. I am done with pretending. I am done with peacekeeping.
This is war.
With blood on her cheek, Trudy wobbles towards me. “Where is my son?”
“I don’t think we’ve found him yet,” I reply as I see Donatien waving at me. I rush over, dodging people, pews, and chaos.
“There is no way I can move him alone,” he contends, squatting behind the mess. “But he’s got a pulse. It’s not much.”
I jump the splintered wood to help Donatien move Dale. “Hell…” I grimace as we move the spectacular oaf-like man. He’s built like a damn tree. One of the paramedic teams takes over at the side door. “It’s all so bad…”
“Deacon, where are you?” Iris shouts, standing near the back on a pew. “Deacon!”
“… By the altar!”
“Oh, thank God!” Iris and I run towards the source, as the three of us form a right angle, a perfect triangle.
“Oh, Jesus… my sister!” I bellow, losing it. Deacon is covered in blood. “Is she…”
“She’s alive,” Deacon huffs, cradling Cat’s wounded head in his arms with his shirt. His eyes seize mine with a desperation. “Allie… she died instantly,” he whimpers, clutching Cat for dear life. “One minute she was standing and the next she slumped over… I flipped the pew onto us just when the bullet hit. She reached for me, Sal. She needed me to save her and I couldn't… I just couldn't… People on the front row… It was like getting hit by a firing squad.”
“I’ll be back for you, I need to get Cat some help.” Carefully, I wedge my sister out from his grip and cradle her in my arms like a newborn. “I’ve got a critically injured female. She’s unconscious.”
I pass her off to the paramedics as I notice Nico and Dom doing the same thing. Back and forth we go, retrieving the injured and trying to prioritize who needs help the most.
“You need to find Emily,” he warns, hyperventilating from the shock. “She was sitting next to your Mama.”
Trudy passes by with several bottles of water and towels. “Your mom is in shock.”
“… Is she hurt?”
“Scared… ashamed…embarrassed.”
Spinning in a full circle, I scan over the cathedral as people try and make sense and tend to their loved ones. The Suits and most of the Reckless Rebellion are out in the vestibule. I spot Vinny, Cesario, Stella, Val, and Gaby all standing around Mama.
Standing on the altar, Iris achingly stares to me. Crying and broken. With one blink of her grief-stricken jewels, I know what Amber did. I grip the bridge of my nose and shake my head. “Goddammit! No!” I stomp and spin and react. “No!”
Her woeful look says it all as she takes her jacket and drapes it over my Emily's body. Her adoptive parents are amongst the screamers, the out of control, the awakening nightmare.
“Are you okay, Kid?” Serene asks, holding my cheeks and kissing my forehead. “Yeah.” I don’t tell her what I already know.
Her second daughter is dead.
“I gotta go get Allie…”
With tears streaming nonstop over my cheeks, I glance at Iris and point to Deacon as we walk closer. She nods, understanding he isn't out of danger. His vicious terrors are just beginning. “You’ve got to let me have her.”
“… Why?” He howls with a torment. “Why?”
I pick her up as Vega’s team arrives and Iris stays with him. They slowly get up out of the debris to sit in a pew. They rock slow. I glance at Allie and cannot help but remember what she did for me when my wife died.
“I know who did it,” I mumble to Vega, handing Allie off. “Amber Rosen. It was a hit from Cas Hope,” I say as we walk to the altar. I'm careful what I say. I'm not throwing all of Cinco under the bus just yet. “Someone needs to be with Serene.”
“We’re getting more ambulances!”
“Father McPhail was shot execution style in the rectory,” an agent mumbles to Vega, who is on the phone barking orders about blocking roads and stopping flights, but I know, she is already gone.
And then it hits me—the Irish are going to be pissed.
“I don’t give a shit what we have to do!” he fires off, angrily. “Amber Rosen is not getting out of this town! I’ve got a fucking mess at the Raniero-Granger rehearsal dinner!”
Working my way to the front, I glance over at Vinny, standing with one of The Suits, and then I blink towards Stella.
Those are my biological parents.
I happened while they were fucking.
I wa
nt to hug them and say thank you and ask why in the hell I needed to suffer for the shame of their sins.
“There will be no shame amongst the famiglia.”
I see Kate and Evere and I know I’m asking if they’re okay, but I can no longer hear my own voice.
“Kate has a leg injury!” I shout, acting more like machine than a man and I can't stop. I must help. I must keep going. I cannot mourn. “Bullet graze.”
I pivot back to see Reckless Rebellion and The Suits talking and over to Deacon resting his head on my girl’s shoulder. Her beautiful hair is a mess and she is stained with sanguine. I have to go get the bride. I don’t have a choice. No one else should do it. There will be a time to break down and this isn’t it. In the catastrophe, I hitch trying to find the programming necessary to shut down my emotions, but I can’t. It’s been overwritten by love.
And I feel it all.
“Anna, are you okay?” I ask, grabbing Nico as he passes by. “Go to Serene.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Slowly, I march to the altar and I say kind words to her parents. I don't hear them. I don't feel them, but I feel every tear Iris sheds from the pew.—Every whimper.—Every shake of her head.—Every help me deal with this because I need you. I tell them how much I loved her as tears flow over my cheeks.
I try and pretend I can go back and not let anyone in; I’ll slam the gates and lock them down. I’ll portray emotional vacancy in the heartbroken groom. But it is too late for that.
I am a man in love.
Iris matters. And everything affecting her matters.
Love is like a virus, spreading like hot molten lava and seizing our time together, like an everlasting bond. We become shatterproof and able to withstand the unthinkable in love. I realize then, I am a stronger man in love than I have ever been as an incubus harboring the sacrificial virgin. And in our love, we construct our kingdom of heaven and hell because in all things, there must be balance.
Brushing my hands over her moons, I scoop her limp body into my arms as her long blonde hair showers over my forearm. The trauma is significant; she never had a chance. The shrew was aiming for one, and she succeeded.
Every Minute I Love You (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 3) Page 70
