by M. S. Parker
Hell, it was awkward to realize that I now had a husband.
Things were moving so fast that my head was spinning.
“Honor?” Gracen questioned, clearly concerned. “Are you well?”
“Yes, sorry, I was just thinking about things,” I smiled at him, but I knew it didn’t reach my eyes. I changed the subject before he could ask about it. “How did you get the minister to agree to marry us on such short notice? I don't know about now, but in my time, it usually takes some time to get a marriage license.”
Except in Vegas, I thought. But I wasn't about to go there.
“Money can do wonders.” He looked slightly embarrassed.
“You bribed a minister?” I put down my spoon.
I'd been taught from an early age the importance of fair play, of how people should be treated equally regardless of where they came from or who they were. I'd always despised stories of rich kids getting away with things when poor ones wouldn't have had the chance, and now I was married to someone who'd used his position and wealth to do exactly what I loathed.
“That’s just the type of thing your father would do. Use money to get what he wanted.” The words came out more harshly than I intended, and I regretted them as soon as he looked up at me, hurt in his eyes. I softened my tone. “I’m sorry. I just feel strongly about people not using their influence to get special treatment.” I reached over and lightly touched his hand. “Even if it is done with the best of intentions.”
“I only wanted to take care of you,” he protested.
“I know.” I tried to keep the frustration from my voice. “But I can take care of myself.”
“I am aware of that.” He lowered his voice, the admiration clear. “You've proven it a hundred times over.” He paused for a moment, and then continued, “But you are my wife, and I want to take care of you, which is exactly what I will do. Because I can't lose you. I need you as much as you need me.”
“Yes, husband,” I said with a smile. It might've been old-fashioned, but I secretly loved the way “husband” sounded when I said it aloud. And I loved even more knowing that he thought of us as an equal partnership.
A comfortable silence fell as we finished our meal, but near the end, I found him watching me with a strange expression on his face. Like he had something he knew he had to say, but he knew that I wouldn't like it.
“Out with it,” I said.
“What?”
“Whatever it is you don't want to say. Just say it.”
He sighed as he took my hand. “We have to go back.”
“Go back where?” I really hoped he wasn't suggesting what I thought.
“Back to my home to explain everything to my father.” He gave me a partial smile. “And to introduce you as my wife.”
Yeah, that was going to go over well.
And there was something else.
“You know at some point we’ll have to take a side?” I said it as gently as I could. “And with what I know, there's only one side we can take.”
He sighed. “I know.” His smile widened. “But not tonight, because tonight is our wedding night. Any decisions we have to make can wait.”
29
The room he'd rented was large and simple with a small dresser, a few side tables and a jug of water. The bed was simple as well, but the sheets looked clean, and that was all I cared about at the moment.
Walking a few paces in front of Gracen, I stopped and looked over my shoulder. “Care to help me with this dress, Mr. Lightwood?”
“I would, Mrs. Lightwood.”
I shivered, though I wasn't sure if it was from the name, or from the cool air as the dress slipped to the floor. I turned toward him, then chuckled at the look on his face. He clearly hadn't paid much attention to my undergarments before.
“It's called a bra,” I said as I reached behind me to unhook it. “I’ll explain later.”
Gracen's eyes darkened as they slid down my body, and I let him look. There was no embarrassment, no hiding necessary. He knew all of my secrets.
“Your turn.”
He shed his clothes quickly, never taking his eyes off of me. When he was naked, it was my turn to admire his lean muscles and tanned skin. I ran my gaze down his chest and stomach to the thick shaft curving up from golden curls. I licked my lips and heard Gracen moan.
Then he was there, his hands sliding over me, cupping my breasts, teasing my nipples. He claimed my lips, his tongue exploring every inch of my mouth. I put my hands on his shoulders, feeling the strength there.
“Take me to bed,” I whispered against his lips. “And don't be gentle.”
He gave me a startled look that darkened the moment I caught his bottom lip between my teeth. His hands drew lines down my body, electrifying everywhere he touched and leaving every cell tingling. They finally came to rest on my hips, moving me backwards until I reached the bed. Without taking his gaze off of me, he pushed me back. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him down on top of me.
A moan escaped me as our bodies pressed together, and my fingers dug into him. I wrapped my legs around his waist. The tip of his cock brushed against me, and I arched up against him. We had plenty of time later to explore, to learn all of the ways we could bring pleasure to each other. I just needed him inside me.
Now.
I ran my nails down his back until they reached his ass. I pulled him even as I lifted my hips, letting the first couple inches slide inside. He moaned my name, then cursed as he pushed the rest of the way into me. His muscles flexed under my hands as he began to thrust, starting with slow, deep strokes.
Time evaporated, and nothing else mattered as he moved against me, each time filling me more than the last. We'd had a connection before, but this was different. Some of it was because he was my husband because he'd made that forever commitment to be, even when he knew how many problems our marriage would cause. Most of it, however, I knew came from my confession. Now that he knew it all, that we'd shared our deepest secrets with each other, we could give ourselves freely, hold nothing back. As I begged him to drive himself into me harder, faster, I could see on his face that he understood it too. We didn't have to pretend, didn't have to worry about hurting each other. We were both strong, both fighters. We could protect each other, love each other. Equally.
My orgasm exploded through me, and I cried out his name, not caring if anyone else heard. I loved my husband, loved the pleasure that he was giving me, and I refused to be ashamed of it. He pressed his face against the crook of my neck, muffling his own groan as he reached his climax. My body tightened around him, muscles spasming as I came again.
One day, I realized with a start, this would give us a child. We didn't have access to birth control, no real way to keep me from getting pregnant. And the thought didn't concern me like it would have if it had been a different man spending himself inside me. The thought of a family with Gracen was a happy one.
He rolled off of me and pulled the sheets up over us. Neither of us spoke as we settled into the rapidly dimming light.
“I love you, Honor,” he murmured as he kissed the top of my head.
“I love you too.” I snuggled against him, letting myself relax in the safety and warmth of his arms.
I woke suddenly to a dark room, and was briefly disoriented, not recognizing my surroundings until the arm around me tightened, and I remembered where I was. And who I was with. I shifted, pulling Gracen's arm closer as I put my head back on his chest. I smiled at the sound of his steady heartbeat.
As I waited for sleep to come again, my mind turned to our imminent return to the Lightwood estate. I knew exactly how Roston would take the news of our marriage, and it wouldn’t be pretty. I thought of Clara too and felt a pang of guilt. Then I remembered the selfish way she had tried to manipulate Gracen into joining the army because of how it would make her look. And the fact that the engagement wasn’t one of love.
Not like this.
A bolt of fear went through me, and I p
ressed myself more closely to Gracen. I knew the dangers of what was coming, but it wasn't the war I was frightened of. Not really. I knew there'd be risks, but it was the true unknown that scared me. The unknown about what had brought me here...and what could send me home.
That wasn't home now though. My home was lying next to me, and I was suddenly terrified that I might lose him.
“Please,” I whispered into the darkness. To what or who, I didn't know, but I didn't care. All I cared was that it didn't send me back. “Please, let me stay.”
I listened intently until I felt sleep coming to claim me again, but no answer came.
Gracen and Honor will be back in January in my next novel, Fear And Honor (The Lightwood Affair #2). To get an email reminder on release day, CLICK HERE to sign up to my newsletter.
Until then, turn the page to read the bonus books.
Dom X - Volume One
Dom X
1
Xavier
March in San Antonio wasn't as hot as July, but it was hot enough in the damn sun that I'd soaked clean through my t-shirt before we were half-way through. I was used to it though. Even Texas heat couldn't compare to some of the sandboxes I'd been sent to. As for the exercises, today's weren't any more strenuous than anything else I'd done in my nine-year military career.
Hell, they weren't really that much crazier than the shit I'd grown up with, and these were a lot safer. The places the army sent me were sometimes safer than where I'd grown up.
I pushed the thoughts aside, raking my hand through my short, dark blond hair. I'd never kept it very long to begin with, but the day I'd enlisted, it'd been buzzed short and I'd kept it that way ever since. It was clean and efficient. I liked that.
In fact, that was why I liked the military, and why, after the chaos of my childhood, I'd thrived. I supposed, in some subconscious way, I'd craved the sort of order this life demanded. The stability that came even in chaotic circumstances.
Speaking of which...
I rolled across the short open space and stopped behind a large rock. I glanced over at the pair of young soldiers I'd left a few feet away. Both were watching me with wide, intelligent eyes. I gestured with my left hand, letting them know what I wanted them to do next.
This particular training exercise wasn’t particularly strenuous in the physical department, but it was definitely more mentally demanding. Our goal was up ahead and, so far, my team had been doing exceptionally well. Just a few more minutes and we should be gold.
Then I saw it. Movement out of the corner of my eye.
I flipped onto my back, raising my rifle as I went. I took the shot even as I yelled at the other two to go. Sacrificing myself was the best tactical move here, and I had no problem doing it.
Except my shot was accurate...and the other guy's wasn't.
As he went down, I rolled again and scrambled to my feet. Up ahead, another firefight was breaking out, and I headed straight into the thick of it without a second thought.
Less than two minutes later, it was all over, and we'd done what we'd set out to do. There were shouts and congratulations, but I didn't join in other than to tell my people they'd done well. I wasn't exactly a quiet person, but boisterous wasn't really a word I usually used to describe myself.
“So, Sergeant, is it true?” The youngest of the soldiers came toward me, his outstretched hand holding a bottle of water.
“Woodley, right?” I asked, taking the bottle.
The kid nodded, and I noticed that his skin was red and peeling underneath the sand and grime. He’d need to remember sunscreen or he’d get cooked if he was sent to the Middle East.
Or any place with more than five minutes of sun.
“Is what true?” I drained half of the water in two gulps and let it cool me as I swallowed.
“That you're from Philly?”
I nodded, not saying anything, but rather waited for him to continue. I learned that at a young age. It was always better to remain quiet; keep anyone from noticing me. It'd served me well before I'd enlisted and then almost as much after. Despite my background, I hadn't been the sort who smarted off, so I'd rarely gotten myself in trouble. And I'd also learned a lot more than I probably should have because I listened more than I talked. More than once, it'd given me knowledge I'd found useful.
“I'm from Philly too,” he said. He had one of those baby faces that made him look like he was barely fifteen. “Chestnut Hill. Where are you from?”
I finished my water. “West.”
“X!”
A shout came from behind me and I turned. A tall, lean soldier with bronze hair and crystal blue eyes trotted toward me. He was all smiles, but that didn't tell me anything. Zed Ray was always smiling. I'd watched the fool grinning like an idiot while we were taking fire, his face streaked with sweat and dirt, those damn teeth gleaming. More than once I thought he'd end up getting himself shot because of those teeth.
“Seventy-two-hour leave, Philly.” Zed slapped me on the shoulder, then made a face at the sweat on his hand. “Damn, X. You seriously need to take a shower or we're never gonna get you laid.”
I rolled my eyes. “You don't want me to get laid, Zed. You just want me to be your wingman so you can get laid.”
He shrugged as his grin widened. I'd been told I was good looking. Decent features. Azure eyes. Chicks usually dug the tattoos too.
But Zed was one of those model-types who turned heads everywhere he went, no matter who he was with. I didn't mind. I was fine with my soldiers looking to me for direction, but outside of the army, I didn't like eyes on me. Yet another product of my upbringing. Besides, the wingman got laid most of the time too.
“Are you guys going out?” Woodley looked from Zed to me. The eagerness on his face was clear.
“How old are you, kid?” I asked with a sideways glance at Zed.
“Nineteen, sir,” he answered.
“You know I can't condone under-age drinking.”
The kid's face fell. Then Zed leaned over and said something in Woodley's ear that brought the smile back. The expression on Zed's face told me that I didn't want to know what it was. There was a reason Zed wasn't usually put in charge. He was a good guy, fierce as hell and loyal to a fault. He was the sort of guy who'd always have his buddy's back.
But he never took shit seriously.
Case in point...
“Come on, X, we gotta get you in a shower.” Zed punched my shoulder. “Our leave started the minute you finished that exercise and I don't want to waste any of it.”
I rolled my eyes again, but didn't argue as we started to walk away. I wasn't quite as demonstrative in my enthusiasm, but Zed was right about two things. One, I stunk. Two, I didn't want to waste any time either.
I just didn't think it was for the same reason. Unlike most of my buddies, I rarely looked forward to leave.
“First thing I'm going to do when I get home is eat some fucking real food.”
One of the soldiers behind me was talking with a couple others. His accent told me he was from around here.
“Mom's meatloaf with mashed potatoes. Homemade gravy. Grandmama's collard greens.”
I was guessing Grandmama was from down south. For a moment, I wondered if any of my grandparents were from the south. I'd never met any of them, and my parents sure as hell hadn't talked about them. I didn't even know if any of them were alive or dead. Odds said that at least one probably was still alive, but I'd always figured that if they hadn't found me by now, I doubted I really wanted to know them.
“Hey, Sarge, you got a home-cooked meal waiting for you?” the soldier called up to me.
“Naw, Philly here's an East Coast boy.” Zed tried to rub the top of my head, but I swatted his hand away. “We're going to spend our time getting shit-faced.”
“Speak for yourself,” I said. “I'll take one night out drinking, but I'm not going to spend Tuesday morning puking my guts out and wishing myself dead.”
Zed shrugged. “Your loss.�
��
“Do you have a girl in the area, Sergeant?” Another of the soldiers asked. “You don't talk much about life outside. Family back home. A girl.” He grinned. “Or a guy. You know, since that's no longer an issue.”
“That's it.” Zed threw his arm around my neck and planted a loud kiss on my cheek. “You've found us out. Xavier Hammond and I are lovers.”
“Shut up, you ass.” I shoved him away from me, hard enough to make him nearly stumble.
I couldn't help but join in as we all laughed. By nature – and by nurture – I was usually a serious guy, but if anyone could make me laugh, it was Zed.
“Come to think of it, sir,” the local boy said. “I've never seen you with a woman.”
“He's got you there,” Zed said as he fell in step beside me again.
“Just because I don't brag doesn't mean I don't get any,” I retorted. “Zed, on the other hand, shoots off his mouth so much that I'm starting to think he's all talk and nothing else.”
“You're just jealous that you always get the ugly friend,” he said with a grin.
“How come you're not going home?” The soldier turned his question to Zed. “Aren't you from somewhere around here?”
“New Mexico,” he answered easily. “But who else would keep Sarge here company if I took off. Besides.” He flashed that infuriating smile. “My mom doesn't cook so good.”
The guys laughed again, but the local boy's attention was on me again.
“What about your family, Sarge? Seventy-two hours could be enough time to fly out to Philly and back again.”
I saw Zed out of the corner of my eye, shaking his head at the soldier. I didn't mind answering though. It wasn't like it was some secret or anything. I just didn't talk about myself or my past. Zed only knew because we'd been friends for a while.
