Chapter 22

22

ELLE

T oday is my wedding day. The day most girls have dreamt about since they were a little girl, and I am no exception. With the way I grew up, getting married was always expected, encouraged even, and I didn't escape the longing of the day I would walk down the aisle. Today is a day I have imagined a thousand times over, and yet somehow, as I stand here looking in the mirror in my perfect white dress, all I see is red.

There has just been so much blood. My blood, Taylor's blood, Mason's blood. The blood of Michael Riviera, my brother's blood, even the blood of the Donovans, and all of it stains my hands. Now I'm not stupid, I know there are so many things I couldn't change, wouldn't change, but that doesn't make the guilt any less real. Even if we did win the war, was it worth the cost?

I'm here, but Taylor isn't, Mason isn't. My brother almost lost his life and I almost lost my daughter, she almost lost her father, and Marcus did lose his. Michael isn't here to see his son become my husband, to see the man he has become, the man he has stepped up to be, and why? Because he chose to save me? I get my happily ever after and he doesn't?

In what world is that winning?

When I was a little girl I used to dream of white dresses and pretty flowers, and most of all the groom. Today is a day I have imagined since the moment I first laid eyes on Marcus Riviera, my best friend and my first love, soon to be my forever love, but as I look at the woman I have become in the mirror, it isn't Marcus I see, but him .

Greg Donovan stole so much from me, my virtue, my innocence, my childhood, but I didn't realize until this very moment just how deep that loss runs. Because instead of smiling at myself and admiring the perfect white lace dress I could have only dreamed of, all I can think about is the day it was almost him. Of the warehouse turned makeshift church where I almost became his wife, of the weight of his gaze as he thought about how we would spend our wedding night, of the look in Jace's eyes at the utter failure he felt about not protecting me more. All of it is playing on repeat, over and over in my mind, like a sick rerun of the worst thing I've ever watched.

It's not how I imagined I would feel today, and this day couldn't be more opposite to the one that plagues my mind, so why can't I stop thinking about it?

"You okay, Sweetheart?" My brother asks, cutting into my downward spiral, and I almost jolt at the sound of his voice.

It's just the two of us in the wedding prep room right now, waiting for the ceremony to start, and I wish I could enjoy the comfort of him being here, but when I look at him I am transported right back to that night. To walking into the old house and finding him bleeding out and near death, telling me that my daughter was gone.

I force myself to take a deep breath in through my nose, as I put a smile on my face and turn towards him. "Of course I'm okay," I lie, one that has come easy and often since I was fourteen ye ars old.

Zack narrows his eyes, looking both handsome and stern in his charcoal gray suit as he replies, "I know we didn't grow up together, but I'm sure you sometimes forget we're siblings, which means I know you better than you think."

I curse inwardly for how right he is, because despite not growing up together, we are as close as siblings can be. I guess seeing one another covered in blood and knee deep in trauma really brings you together. I can't lie to him, I never could, he sees me, all of me, and still loves me anyway.

"I can't stop thinking about that day," I admit softly, turning back toward the mirror to try and avoid the guilt and anger in his gaze, but it doesn't work.

I am immediately aware of his presence behind me, before I feel his firm and gentle touch grab my shoulders and spin me back toward him. I still can't bring myself to look at him, but like a dog with a bone, he grips my chin and tips my head up towards his. "You're the strongest person I have ever met, do you know that?" He asks with a pride-filled smile. "You have experienced some of the worst things life has to offer, and yet still you get out of bed every single day and smile, do you know how special that makes you?"

Tears burn the back of my eyes as I joke, "And here I thought it was my nifty knife skills."

Zack rolls his eyes, more than used to me batting off my emotions, but seeing right through my defenses anyway. "Elle, what happened that day was not your fault, the only thing that matters is that you survived and they didn't, everything else we just have to learn to live with."

His words force me to take a deep swallow to make sure I don't cry, not after the makeup artist spent over an hour on my face earlier. And I know he's right, I can't change the past, all I can do is focus on the future. "I know, I'm trying," I tell him ho nestly, because that's what I am doing, every single day, I am trying to make my survival feel worth it.

"Well, try harder because you still have an amazing life ahead of you, and dwelling on the past isn't good for anybody, trust me."

Before I can say anything else there is a sharp knock on the door, and I pull away from Zack and turn back towards the mirror as he moves to answer it. I'm still forcing in deep breaths, trying to calm my panic and escape the images in my mind, when I hear his voice.

"What's up brother-in-law?" Marcus drawls, and I can just feel Zack's irritation at his tone from across the room, and it has me instantly smiling.

"You can't be here," Zack huffs, more than used to River's bullshit by now, yet still putting up with it for me anyway.

"I think it's you who can't be here, given what I am planning on doing to your sister," he purrs, and butterflies flood the pit of my stomach, forcing every other thought out of my brain, as I turn toward the door.

"Do I need to punch you again?" Zack asks, his tone full of warning, but it doesn't seem to deter my husband-to-be.

"You can, but I'm still coming in there and doing despicable things to her," Marcus laughs, pushing past my brother and forcing his way into the room. As soon as he's inside his eyes lock with mine and his smile drops completely, as he looks at me in awe. "Fuck, baby, you look beautiful."

My eyes flick over him in his perfectly-pressed gray suit, looking more like a man every single day, and it suddenly takes my breath away. "You don't look half bad yourself," I breathe, raking my gaze over him once more.

We stare at one another in silence for a few seconds until my brother huffs out loud. "You've got thirty minutes and then I'm co ming to walk her down the aisle."

Marcus practically forces him toward the door before gently shoving him through it. "Trust me, I'm only gonna need ten," he grunts, before slamming the door in my brother's face and locking it.

When he turns back towards me, there is a dark, possessive look in his eyes as he moves toward me and drawls, "You look really good when you're about to become my wife, baby." His hands find my hips and he pulls me against him and the evidence of how good he truly thinks I look.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, suddenly not caring in the slightest about ruining my makeup, or my hair or my dress for that matter, and hoping the look in his eyes means what I think it means.

"I'm here because I need something," he whispers, leaning in and dragging his mouth gently across my jaw up to my ear. "Now be a good little wife and bend over for me." He doesn't wait for me to move, just uses his hold on me to turn me around, and force me forward over the back of the sofa in the center of the room.

"I'm not your wife yet," I gasp, as his rough and insistent hands reach down and begin to bunch up my dress around my waist.

"Nope, but you're about to be, and I think you should do it while filled with my cum." One of his hands firmly presses into the center of my back to hold me down, while the other strokes up my leg. I can feel his smile as his fingers wrap around the blade strapped to my thigh. "Always so prepared baby." He plucks the knife from its strap and drops to his knees behind me. The hand that was at my back now teases along the edge of my white stockings before trailing up to my panties. "This underwear looks very expensive," he grunts, his breath hot and heavy against my skin.

"It was," I gasp, as the steel of the blade slips beneath the fabric of my panties and slices through it effortlessly.

"Such a shame," Marcus whispers, tugging the now scrap of panties from around me, and stuffing them into his pocket. "But I must say, this view is much better." He uses the hilt of the knife to part my lips before leaning in and inhaling deeply. "So fucking perfect," he grunts, teasing my hole with his free hand, but not getting nowhere near close enough to where I need him.

"River, please," I plead, squirming in the position he has me in, so desperate for more.

"Oh begging, I like that," he smirks, standing to his full height and leaning over me, until I can feel his erection digging into my ass. "Why don't you say my name a little louder, there is a whole crowd of people to entertain out there, baby." The hand still holding my knife comes to rest by my head and the sight of it seems ungodly, especially today, especially in this dress. He uses the other to undo his pants and free himself, stroking his cock up and down my slit until both of us are groaning in need. "Now hold on tight, and remember that I love you, because I'm going to fuck you like I don't."

Then he is slamming inside me without warning, making me cry out in pleasure, "Oh fuck, River." He pulls all the way back and then slams into me again and again, pistoning his hips with zero restraint, as his other hand curls around my hip and holds me tight.

"That's right, it's me fucking you, me owning you," he grunts, grinding into me roughly, yet it feels oh so sweet. "You belong to me, you're about to become my wife, and one day soon I am going to put a baby inside you, tying you to me forever," he groans, rolling his hips and making me moan as he finds that sweet spot inside of me.

"River, please," I beg, feeling so c lose to my orgasm that I could cry. "I need you," I add breathlessly, feeling him everywhere.

"I know what you need, baby, but you don't get to come, not right now, not until you become my wife," he grits, no doubt feeling his own pending release, as his thrusts start to falter a little. "This fucking is for me and me alone, to fill you with my cum and know that when you're walking down the aisles toward me, that its dripping out of you, reminding you exactly who you belong to."

My moans turn to cries, as my entire body starts to burn beneath him with the need to come, but he doesn't care, keeping it just out of reach with every snap of his hips, and suddenly I realize why he needs this. He remembers that day just as much as I do, I'm sure my blood-soaked dress is imprinted in his memory as it is mine, and the memory of him almost losing me is going to be between us forever.

"Fill me up, Marcus," I gasp out my plea. "Fill me up with your cum so I can become your wife."

The groan my words elicit is unholy, as he picks up his pace and starts rutting into me even harder, until he is cursing my name and spilling inside of me. "Oh fuck, Ells," he moans, slowing his pace until every last drop of his cum has filled me up.

Still panting and completely breathless, he pulls out of me and drops back to his knees, gathering up his cum that has seeped out of me and shoving it back inside my pussy with his fingers, fucking it into my hole until there isn't a drop wasted. Only then does he rise back to his full height and gently lift me off the sofa and fix my dress.

When I turn back towards him, he smiles. "There, now you're ready to become mine," he whispers, gently dropping a kiss to my lips but then pulling away all too soon, and walking backwards towards the door.

"I've been yours since Kindergarten you asshole," I tell him, and he laughs, opening the door and stepping through it.

"Yeah except now the whole world will know it too," he winks, before pulling the door closed and leaving me alone.

With my brain now free of bad memories, and my heart only thundering because of the man about to be my husband, I finally feel ready to get married.