Chapter 6

Chapter Six

GREY

I can only get through the short wedding ceremony by shutting my mind down completely.

Thoughts like:

This is insane.

What if mom finds out?

Is this marriage even legal? We're step-siblings, aren't we?

They all get swept away under a blanket of numbness.

It's not until I feel Zane squeezing my hand that I come back to myself and realize I'm being prompted by the priest to say ‘I do'.

My mouth purses.

For a long, pregnant pause, I debate the insanity of it all. Everything happened so fast. A few hours ago, I was lying in a hospital cot, thinking about what kind of jello the cafeteria would serve for lunch.

And now I'm here.

In a wedding dress.

In front of God and The Kings.

The longer I stall, the higher Zane's eyebrow rises. But we both know I won't stop here.

Even if I hate being pushed around by Zane Cross, I hate that Sloane's killers haven't been found even more.

"I… do." The words claw my throat, like sharp nails climbing up my esophagus.

The room releases a collective sigh.

Zane smirks triumphantly and—if I were a pettier person, if the stakes weren't so high—I'd do something to wipe that grin off his face.

I do… not want to breathe your stupid air, you over-sized, deranged Creon.

The priest repeats the same lines to the groom. Something about love and honor and respect. Pfft.

Zane knows nothing about those words.

Frankly, neither do I.

This marriage isn't about any of those virtuous things anyway.

"I do," Zane says confidently, his eyes lingering on my lips.

But there's no kiss.

At least, not yet.

Instead, we're led to a table around the side.

A marriage certificate rests there.

Zane's eyes follow me as I read the lines, and I notice him waiting for protest. A marriage ceremony is one thing. A legal document is another.

But I don't hesitate.

I scribble my name on the form. Hand to pen.

Back in front of the chapel, I accept the ring Cadence slips into my palm. Ring to finger.

Body on auto-pilot.

Eyes on the wall behind Zane's head.

Numbness is my refuge.

My mind is my escape.

From somewhere around me, I hear the priest say, " you may kiss the bride "

The space between Zane and I shrinks in size. Thick fingers, calloused from years of wielding drumsticks, clutch my chin and tilt my face up.

Candles flicker against his cheekbones, teasing at a jaw line that's a harsh slash of angles and symmetry.

I try really hard not to peek at Zane's mouth.

A mouth I've tasted.

A mouth that's tasted… way more of me than it should.

As he stares back with a dark, half-lidded gaze, I wonder why he's stalling. Just kiss me and get it over with .

Zane shakes his head imperceptibly.

Like he heard me.

A refusal.

Instead of claiming my lips and ending the ceremony, one large hand frames my cheek. His attention shifts to my temple. Like a skater gliding over ice, he brushes back the veil that I'd intentionally tried to pull over as much of the gash as humanly possible.

My heart races inside my ribs and then climbs up my throat to pound an edgy beat.

The air in the chapel feels like fire, like oxygen burning on some type of fuel that I can't name. That I wish I could snuff out.

Zane leans over and places a gentle kiss on my scar, a slight touch of his lips to my head that makes my blood pulse with pure anger and frustration.

How dare he be so tender when this entire wedding is a show of force? How dare he make me feel things I don't want to? How dare he command these strange responses from my body?

He caresses the skin beneath the scar and anger heats my cheeks. My heavy breaths fill the quiet chapel and, because I feel so helpless and vulnerable, I fling my head up and meet his silky blue eyes.

"I hate you," I mouth.

"No," Zane answers, a breath away from my lips. "You just wish you did."

My eyes narrow.

Abruptly, he slides his good hand around my waist and pulls me into his hard body. His grip is rough, his touch a roaring fire. With my mouth already open, his tongue has instant access.

A shiver rolls through me as Zane kisses me hungrily. I moan despite myself, savoring every lick and dip. He kisses me without hesitation, without fear. As if he has every right in the world. Teacher, student. Step-brother, step-sister. He's throwing up one, big middle finger to the world.

His pointer presses into my cheekbone as he shifts my face slightly. He pulls back just enough to take a breath before he closes the distance again.

Did I imagine that sigh of pleasure from him? No, it was definitely a sigh of relief. Like a long journey coming to a close. Like I'm finally and completely his.

He caresses me in a slow, melodic cadence. This second kiss is different than any I've ever had. With him or with other men. It feels intimate, becoming more tender… more intentional with every second.

Fire crackles beneath my skin, sparking every time he shifts his head to sip deeper from me. His heart hammers against mine, and I wish I could hold that over him, but I'm sure my heart is equally rowdy.

Everyone in the room disappears.

For a second, for one blissful moment, I feel alive.

Just like I did the night we met.

And again at the Redwood Prep dance where we were together wearing our masks.

A part of me wishes we could stay like this forever.

But the kiss ends.

Zane steps away from me.

And reality comes rushing back, putting as much distance between us as a continent to the ocean.

I blink.

Blink again.

Keep blinking until the world stops spinning.

Apparently, even if I find his arrogance totally unappealing, my baser instincts are very much in favor of Zane touching me.

I don't know how to control that hunger, so there's only one real solution to this issue: I need him to never touch me again.

Unfortunately, Zane is fighting for the very opposite .

And right now, he's got the upper hand.

Cool air hits my skin, trying and failing to tame the heat in my blood. The room is loud with applause and the cheers from Zane's family. His eyes aren't on them though. They're on me, darker than I've ever seen them, the midnight-black of his pupils seeping into the blue.

Zane Cross will destroy everything you've built, Gracie.

Mom's words echo back as a flicker of obsession yawns to life in Zane's eyes. It's neurotic. Near madness.

"I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Zane Cross!" the priest declares.

The applause gets louder.

Zane smiles, easily in control, as if the kiss that blew my mind meant absolutely nothing to him. His fingers close around mine and he tugs me down the aisle.

We're married.

It hits me in a rush.

I stumble on my feet just as my heart stutters in my chest. But Zane's hand is a steady presence. He keeps pulling me forward.

Bubbles float through the air. Cadence and Viola are grinning as they blow. Dutch, Finn and Sol look pleased.

They're all cheering as if this isn't the end of me.

My reputation.

My social standing.

My relationship with my mother.

I'm risking everything in this moment and yet they celebrate.

My veil skims across my bare shoulder and flutters to the side. It must beckon them because they file out of their pews and follow us through the door, chatting loudly, surrounding us.

This is my family now, in a different way than they were before.

I look down at the rock on my finger and then glance at Zane. He's looking at me possessively.

My husband…

No.

Goodness no. None of this is real. It's just a play. Like imaginative children giving life to Barbie and Ken.

I will never consider this a real marriage.

I rip the veil off and shove it into Zane's chest, my scowl evident.

All the smiles disappear. All the talking screeches to a halt.

"I did what you wanted. Now keep your promise."

There. A flash of disappointment. He hides it quickly and the smirk returns, perfectly in place. "Guys," Zane says, eyes still a heavy weight on me, "can I have a moment with my wife?"

I bristle.

The boys move past us.

"Congratulations," Viola whispers, squeezing my arm.

Cadence smiles at me.

Dutch offers a welcoming nod.

Sol looks curiously between me and Zane. Finn gives his best friend a shove when he walks slower than the rest, obviously trying to eavesdrop on us.

When we're alone, Zane pulls at his tie. "Are you hungry?"

"No."

"We should eat first. We have a long night ahead of us."

The words hold the lazy edge of a threat, and certain parts of my body grow hotter with every upward curve of his stupid lips.

"If you think I'm having sex with you just because we signed some papers, you're the one who has a head injury." My nostrils flare. Anger. That's the only weapon I have against him. It's the only way I won't give in. "When can you set up the meeting?"

"I'll see how you behave on our honeymoon first."

I stiffen as images of Zane pushing me into bed to consummate our marriage balloons in my head. Instead of repulsing me, it excites me instead.

I hate myself.

Truly, deeply hate myself.

I step back. "If you wanted sex on demand, you chose the wrong bride."

He stops and looks at me like I'm amusing.

That's the most annoying part about Zane. That cockiness. Like he already knows the world is at his feet.

I shake my head, arguing my point. "I got married to you without anything more than the potential of a promise. Give me something or I'll walk away from this marriage as quickly as I entered it."

Zane chuckles, a dark, dangerous sound that sends a shiver up my spine. He advances on me.

I inch away until I'm caught against the wall. His large form presses me deeper into the concrete.

I struggle, fighting to slip away, but he pins me in place with his hips. The more I twist and squirm, the more his body hardens. I pant, heat billowing in my veins and awareness thickening around me with every brush of our bodies.

It becomes clear very quickly that there's no escape. Struggle is pointless.

I go still.

Zane leans forward and I pull my lips into my mouth. It's an instinctive move, rooted in my own survival.

But he doesn't try to kiss me.

Instead, he whispers in my ear.

"I warned you, tiger…" his tone is soft but it's delivered with the slightest bit of a growl. This warning is more than just a power move. It's a promise. "If I take your hand, I'm never letting it go."

My eyes widen. He's referring to that night on the cliffs when we were sitting on the edge. I held my hand out to him to keep him from slipping and crashing into the rocks below.

He'd rejected me.

"If I take that hand, I'm not letting it go."

"Zane…"

"I won't let go, Grey. So pull your hand back if you can't handle that."

I stare at him, hyperaware of every flicker of his eyelashes. With his broad shoulders fitted into a black tux, his tie loose and his top button undone, he's a disheveled vampire. Black looks good against his pale skin. Maybe because darkness recognizes darkness.

"You don't scare me."

"I never wanted you to fear me, Grey." He presses a kiss to my ear and then tugs on the lobe. A shiver rolls through me. "Let me have you tonight, and then I'll bring you straight to Slavno."

His hand draws a sensual circle on my wrist. My gaze grows half-lidded from the pressure.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Should I do it?

Yes! Hell to the yes! Trust me, Grey. You want to spend the night with your hot, inked husband. What's wrong with that? You're married now. One flesh and all that. You belong to him. And he belongs to you. Climb that horse and ride on, cowgirl.

Sloane's voice is like that angel on my shoulder. The one that pushes you to do all the wrong things.

So then, maybe not an angel.

Not the good kind at least.

Zane inches back and looks at me, gaze languidly moving from my eyes to my lips to my chest that pumps with each breath. His stare lingers a little too long on my chest and blazing heat beats a path beneath the skirt of my wedding dress.

He's not bothering to hide his thirst for me—not that I needed more proof than the one that had been pressed against me a moment ago—but now I know he truly thinks he has me cornered.

He's wrong.

"As soon as I've taken everything I need to take from you, I'm filing for divorce."

"You can try." He nods as if it doesn't bother him.

"Fine."

His gaze meets mine. A scary kind of blue. Untainted by colors like green and gold. Just a piece of pure sky trapped behind a cursed skull.

"But only because I offered you one night anyway," I mutter the words like I'm talking myself into doing an unwanted chore.

His eyes trail to the side and then narrow as if he'd found the memory. It was the day of my final meeting with The Kings regarding The Grateful Project. The day the boys hinted that they could no longer help me hunt down Sloane's murderer.

Zane followed me to the door and insisted on continuing the investigation with me. Rather than bestow a kiss as a thank you, I offered myself. For both our sakes. One last night to get it out of our system and move on.

"Make the appointment at the prison. Tonight. Once I'm sure about the meeting, I'll let you do whatever you want to me."

"That's a dangerous promise." He doesn't invade my space again and yet, that sentence scrapes huskily out of his throat and almost pushes me back into the wall.

The fire in my blood sparks with electricity. My heart falters, struggling to stay even-keeled despite the warring feelings inside it.

"Tomorrow, I want Slavno."

"Keep talking about another man and I'll get jealous, tiger."

"Stop screwing around. I told you I wouldn't have done this if he wasn't on the table."

Footsteps pound in the once empty hallway. It sounds intentionally loud, like whoever's coming wants us to know of their approach.

"Um… are you decent?" Cadence yells.

"Unfortunately," Zane calls.

"Rick just texted. He's done with Grey's mom. She's heading back here now."

Zane's playful little smile shifts into his unbothered smirk, signaling that he's hiding his true thoughts.

I blink, shocked at my own interpretation. I'm starting to recognize his smiles. When did we get that close?

"Change and meet me in the parking lot," Zane says.

"What? Why?"

But he's already walking away.

"Zane!"

"Oh and come up with an excuse for your mom," he adds.

"How am I supposed to do that? Zane, where are we going?"

He stops and turns slightly so I can see the hewn angle of his profile. "That little bed in your hospital room can't handle all the things I'm going to do to you, tiger."

Heat lashes my chest like a whip.

I'm so stunned I can't even speak.

Zane laughs at me, that silver tongue of his flashing as he licks his lips and then disappears from sight.