by Lucian Bane
Holy. Shit. Lucian spun around with his hands on his hips, biting his bottom lip to keep from laughing. “She’s like a sex machine.”
“Yesss,” he hissed, confounded. “I can barely walk when she’s done. I vomited once because she made me go so long. It’s demonic, Lucian. She’s not normal. She’s got the sex drive of Ursula. I’m so ashamed to say I’ve faked illnesses and gone to the doctor just to have a doctor’s excuse!” His final words hissed with incredulity. “All to prove to her I’m not lying and I’m not sleeping around on her. She’s a vagina with arms, and legs, and two faces. Do you know what it’s like to have your penis ridden by a two-hundred thirty pound woman?” He stood now, looking traumatized. “I'm being raped in my own home! By an angry, overbearing, dirty-talking behemoth!”
Oh shit. Lucian bit his knuckle and held his breath when the laughter tried to erupt. He stood shaking his head and finally turned. Then he saw Steve’s constipated face and laughter exploded out in long snorting snickers around the hand over his mouth.
“You’re laughing,” Steve finally said, his tone a mix of dry casual with a dash of you bastard. “Why do you always laugh at me anytime I talk about sexual subjects?
Lucian could only shake his head no, that’s not it, from his doubled over position.
“You think I enjoy being in this prison? Enjoy pretending my wife isn’t a-a- sex fiend who spends money like she’s playing speed Monopoly? Hiding it from the world?”
Lucian was on his knees, crawling to Steve now. He finally made it to him, howling for breath and patting his leg. A tiny “sorry,” squeaked past finally.
“Do you realize she’ll want to be one of the couples in your class?’ He nearly spat, like the very words were foul. “Are you prepared for that? To train a she-demon with a tunnel to Hades between her ever-scissoring legs? You had better staff a priest, my friend. A satanic priest.”
Lucian fell to the floor now, kicking and holding his stomach. “Stop!” he begged, sobbing. “Stop, no more.”
Chapter Eighteen
Tara waved her hand before her face, forcing the tears back. “I can’t cry Gramma,” she gasped. “I’ll ruin my makeup.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just can’t help it.” Her Gramma’s voice strained. “You look like an angel. Your Grampa would be so proud. You picked a fine, fine man.”
Tara nodded, gasping for air. “I did, didn’t I? Only, I think he picked me. I think God…” Her throat shut and she swallowed hard.
“That’s right,” Gramma helped, “Your heavenly father was looking out for you.” She nodded repeatedly, stroking her fingers along the antique white veil. “He picked him. I really like that boy.”
A knock sounded at the door and Tara’s stomach jolted. Bad news waited at the end of every minute. Steve’s wife hurried to see who it was, grumbling about the constant interruptions.
“It’s me, cousin Marla.” The quiet, slight frame of a girl slipped in and shut the door. “Got something blue.” She approached smiling with a shoe-sized box covered in blue velvet. There were three bride’s maids and three groom’s men. And Susan, Steve’s wife was her maid of honor. It only seemed fair that since Steve was Lucian’s best man and also because Tara needed to win that woman over now that she knew about the shipment of sex toys. The most shocking revelation with Susan was her heartfelt confession about Steve and no matter how hard she tried to be a good wife, a desirable wife, he didn’t want her. It drove her to eating and shopping, a problem she readily admitted to. And well, it just made sense in that moment to bring Susan on board with their scheme. She’d explain it later to Lucian. It all fell into place too perfectly for her to say no. So she didn’t.
Other than Steve and Susan, they had very few family, and even fewer friends at the wedding. The rest of the crowd was made up of nosy town-folk come to see a repeat of her last wedding debacle.
Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. The old had been Gramma’s pocket watch that Grampa had given her on their honeymoon. Engraved with an endearing I’ll love you till the end of time. The new had been a gift from Lucian, a garter, with a baby blue ribbon running through the top of it, which she had on.
Tara took the box and opened it to see what she was borrowing. “Gramma!”
“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, her voice shaking with joy.
“Mind? You know I always wanted to wear these.” Tara let a gasping Susan put on her Gramma’s wedding jewelry she’d worn when she married Grampa.
“And I told you you’d get to one day, didn’t I.”
“I hated when you would say that! It was so stupid to me, Oh my God, finally!” Tara wagged her hand before her face again. “Tears in reverse, tears in reverse,” she ordered. Since her last wedding had not been blessed by Gramma and Grampa, she’d not gotten this.
“Pics please.”
Susan jumped back and out of the way as Tara turned to the ever-ready lady photographer and went through the routine five photos showing various emotions: Surprised. Happy. Laughing smile. A bit somber. In the moment.
Tara hurried to the body length mirror and gazed at herself with mouth open. Wow. She was really pretty in Gramma’s dress. The antique gown had barely needed alterations. She felt like royalty in it. She had to buy shoes, Gramma’s feet were way too small. Tara chose old-timey ivory colored ankle boots with spiked heels and shiny diamond studs. She loved them. And the dress was a pile of satin, lace, and silk. With her hair in a pile of ringlets on the top of her head, and a few draped along her neck, she looked like a queen. A kick-ass, beautiful queen. Just wow.
Her stomach knotted when she wondered if Lucian would like it.
“Marla, it’s time for something blue,” Susan said softly, much like Steve might say it. In fact, a lot of her mannerisms matched Steve.
“Yes ma’am,” Marla bowed a little, looking really pretty in the light blue, square-cut dress and antique white accessories to match Tara.
A loud bang on the door made Tara jump and grab her stomach. “Ceremony in thirty, ladies.”
“Oh God!” Tara gasped. She wanted to find Lucian and hug him for strength and courage. No, not true. She wanted to see with her own eyes that he was still there.
Another soft knock along with, “It’s me again.”
Marla slipped in and hurried forward with a tiny white box. The photographer got in position and began snapping as Tara took the box and opened the something blue. “Oh,” Tara gasped, pulling out a blue sapphire bracelet.”
“I was with Luscious when he bought it,” Gramma whispered. “It goes on your ankle.” She gave a light chuckle. “He asked what sapphire meant and the lady at the store said it brings love, peace, and joy. He asked if they made those it in blankets.” They all laughed like hyenas on pot while Susan put the ankle bracelet right above the boot.
“You have your vows?” Gramma said, lowering the veil in place now.
“In my bra, yes.”
Gramma giggled a little. “You got my sexy spunk, I think.”
Tara laughed. “I did?”
“Oh you think I’m a prude, but your Grampa and I knew how to hanky-panky just fine.”
“Gramma!” Tara laughed and they hugged.
“You’re my only granddaughter, and I love you with all that I am,” Gramma whispered.
“Oh dear, tears,” Tara fanned her face.
“You have waterproof mascara,” the photographer reminded her.
“Yes,” Susan said, “but she doesn’t have waterproof foundation.”
Another knock on the door made both of them jump. “Ten minutes.”
“I swear,” Susan said, “I’m going to beat the next person that bangs on that door like there’s a fire.”
“I’m going to let you borrow my bat to do it,” Gramma said, her voice shaky.
“Gramma? You ready for this? Oh my God you’re beautiful too Gramma.”
“Why thank you.” She curtsied in the ivory business-looking
dress, decked with pearly accents. And the little matching hat with the veil over her right eye, was just precious. “I’m ready as ever.”
“Everything is going so well,” Tara gasped, shaking her hands and pacing a little.
“As it should,” Susan cooed, taking her hand and tapping it repeatedly while talking in soothing tones. It actually had a calming effect on her.
“Just feels like we’re getting closer to that point where things go wrong,” Tara whispered.
“Nonsense,” Gramma said, ushering her to the door.
“Oh God, the music has started.” Tara closed her eyes, terrified.
“Yes,” Susan said. “I can’t believe I get to hear my Steve sing.”
“Tara Mae, stop making me push you so darn hard, you’re likely to trip and fall flat on your face. Now arm in mine, this instant.”
Tara obeyed, holding it like a lifeline. “Thank you, Gramma,” she gasped. “Please don’t vomit, please don’t vomit,” she mumbled to herself, not listening to the photographer’s whispered commands.
“You better not vomit,” Gramma mumbled back. “You’re not too old for me to spank your ass.”
The cuss word threw Tara for a momentary loop and bought brief respite from the petrification holding her to the floor.
“Here we go,” Tara sang lightly. “To the altar.”
****
Lucian stood beneath the trestle of white roses at the corner of the living room. “Did I thank you for being here?” Lucian said.
“About a hundred times.” Steve followed the whisper with a low laugh.
“You sure you can pull off the routine still? If you can’t, I get it. I don’t mind.”
“I’m good, I’m good,” he squealed with confidence. “Relax my man, you’re in good hands with Stellar Steve.”
“Shit, dude, I’m so nervous, I didn’t think I’d be nervous,” Lucian muttered. “I know exactly zero people in this small audience too. I see you have a secret admirer too.”
“Please don’t let her hear you say that,” Steve whispered. “She needs no encouraging. Keep a bucket of ice near, in fact.”
Lucian lowered his head and laughed, glad for the distraction. There were maybe fifty people, twenty-five on either side of the aisle, which was a white thick cloth along the floor, leading to the stairs at the end of the room where Tara would descend when the music started. Fuck, he was marrying his baby. His angel. That made him feel like he stood in a garden in Heaven. Gramma, Susan, and even Steve helped with the wedding scheme. White roses adorned every piece of furniture, even the greenery outside and porches front and back. The smell it created was out of this world. The real life décor felt like God’s personal touch and blessing on their marriage.
The wedding march filled the room, starting that tornado of butterflies in his stomach.
“Here we go,” Steve said, his nervous tone making it worse.
What the actual fuck. This was just a public expression of what already existed between them, what the stars had written in the heavens. Nothing to vomit over.
Dressed in Gramma’s suggested black tuxedo—to bring out your pretty blues she’d said, he wondered for the twenty-thousandth time if Tara would like what she saw.
He went over the steps again in a whisper. “She says her vows, I say mine, we exchange rings…” He looked at Steve.
“In my pocket still. Then the minister seals the deal, you give her your super- amazing- best ever kiss, you walk back down the aisle married, and start the reception.”
Lucian exhaled several sharp breaths, willing more oxygen between his ringing ears. His heart suddenly sputtered and the air left his body when he caught sight of her wedding dress coming down the stairs. Holy fuck. Holy, holy, holy fuck she was fucking breathtaking. He devoured every aspect of her, his eyes sucking in each delectable detail, never wanting to forget one. So beautiful. Fucking edible is what she was. By the time she made it to the make-shift aisle, she still hadn’t looked at him. Did she think she wasn’t supposed to?
She finally met his hungry gaze and Lucian’s heart lurched at seeing her on the edge of an emotional breakdown. Jesus. He gave her a wink, but it seemed to make her condition worse.
“Who gives this woman to be married to this man?” the minister said loudly.
“I do. Dorothy Geraldine Reese.”
Lucian took the hand presented by Gramma and kissed her on the cheek before he and Tara faced the minister. Her fingers were ice cold and he held them tight in his during the minister’s opening words.
“The rings and the vows,” he finally announced.
Lucian faced Tara who dug a folded piece of paper out of the top of her dress while Susan stood with the wedding band. Tara gave her a gasped thank you and took the ring then Lucian watched her struggle to right it and slip it on his finger while holding the paper.
He held his hand out to her. “Looks like you could use an extra hand.” He pointed to his ring finger. When he realized she was too flustered, he softly touched the paper. “I’ll hold it for you.”
She let it go and took hold of his hand, aiming the ring at his finger. At the rate she was shaking, she’d never manage it. Lucian moved his finger into the moving target and she sighed in relief. He handed her the paper now, reminding her it was next.
“Thank you,” she barely managed the tiny words.
Tara fought to open the paper with those same trembling hands and Lucian counted to five, planning to do it for her if she hadn’t succeeded by then.
Finally she managed the job and held a paper that reminded him of the instruction book she'd worn to death that first round in Dom Wars.
She cleared her throat for about five minutes it seemed before saying, “I’d like…”
Lucian held his breath as she stood there for many seconds, not speaking, paper shaking. “Take your time, sweetheart. Breathe. Look at me,” he whispered.
She took a deep breath and looked at him. “I’d like to thank you…” she whispered. “For standing right where you are.”
Lucian realized at that instant where her fears were coming from. She’d worried he wouldn’t be there. Jesus.
“And now that you are. I’d like to say… that… I have dreamed of this day since I was a little girl. I knew you even back then, though I’d not met you. I knew the kind of man that I wanted, the kind of Prince.” The paper shuddered more. “And you have far exceeded my every dream.” The words came out high pitched as she strained not to cry, the idea making Lucian struggle to breathe.
“I promise you… Lucian Bane… “ Her volume remained louder than usual and she spoke almost quickly, as though keeping her sobs at bay. “That I will be there for you in every way. Every day. No matter if you get too fat or too skinny. If you get sick… I will nurse you. If you get hurt, I will comfort you. And kick the ass of whoever or whatever hurt you.”
Tears flooded his vision as he remembered her kicking his father’s ass in round four of Dom Wars, for all the pain that fucker caused him.
Tara gasped several times then continued to read. “I will learn how to out cook you. Out love you. Out care for you. I will be your helpmate no matter how hard it is, no matter what.” She covered her mouth then gasped. “I will be there. I will be there for you. With you. As long as breath is in me.” She nodded. “The end.”
Lucian angled his head away from the crowd, wiping away his tears and sucking in several breaths of air. He finally turned to her and stepped closer, wanting to see her, wanting her to see him.
Emotions gripped his chest when he stared into her eyes filled with fresh tears.
“Tara… from the first day I saw you… I fell head over heels in love with you.”
Tara let out a huge sob.
“I know they say there is no such thing as insta-love. But I promise you with all that I am... I fell so hard and fast for you, within the first minute that we met.” Tara wailed now and Lucian embraced her. “Tara Reese, you stole my heart the moment I met you.
Everything about you…” Lucian paused to breathe around the sudden buildup of emotions. “Everything about you answered… every hunger. Every need. Every longing that I had. I didn’t realize it then, Tara, but… you saved me from myself; a man I hated, and you made me…” Lucian wiped his face on his shoulder. “…you made me into the man I was meant to be. Your husband. Your protector. Your soul mate.”
Lucian took the ring from Steve who held it on cue all while Tara wailed. He took her left hand and slid the ring on her finger then leaned down to her ear so she could hear him. “I… Lucian Bane. Do vow with all that I am this day… to be everything you need me to be. Until that rude motherfucker named death, does parts us.” Lucian hugged her tighter. “I love you so fucking much.”
He pulled up and eyed the minister with a nod to let him know he was done.
“I now pronounce you, man and wife,” the minister yelled over her noise. “You may kiss your bride.”
He said it like hurry and plug that noise. Lucian set Tara before him and raised her veil.
“I’m so sorry, I ruined my makeup. I must look like a clown!” she wailed, oblivious to the crowd still.
“I need to kiss the bride, love.”
“Okay, okay,” she whispered, wiping and dabbing at her face. She looked up at him now.
Lucian was hell bent on giving her that super, amazing, mind-blowing wedding kiss. But he hadn’t anticipated her having an emotional break down before he did. It called for him to need to do something else.
He lifted her up and cradled her in his arms, the immediate grasp of her hands on his neck a confirmation he was doing the right thing. He turned with her and announced, “I’m taking my wife to our honeymoon suite and kissing her properly.” He nodded at the shocked guests. “We’ll return in a bit for the reception.” He tossed Steve a wink who answered with a salute.
Lucian strolled down the aisle through whispering guests as he headed to the stairs. Suddenly the air filled with Steve’s voice, belting out those haunting lyrics from Unchained Melody, giving Lucian the chills as he carried his wife upstairs.
