CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

I showered with Thoran's arms securely around me the entire time. His chest hard and warm against my back. My chest. His lips on my neck, my shoulders. I had never felt so completely surrounded.

So safe.

Malcolm had made me feel safe. He'd protected me and kept Mother from potentially killing me or keeping me locked in the closet until Jarrett was ready for me. But even Malcolm never made me feel this protected. Not entirely. He wasn't always there. He couldn't be. I didn't blame him for that. He did enough to keep me going.

But Thoran was a shield. A wall of power and strength. He made me want not to be scared. He made me feel like I could tackle anything as long as he was there. He didn't simply protect me but embolden me because I could tell him what I wanted, and he would never deny me.

It was just the small fact that he knew Jarrett.

But did it matter? Once I married Thoran, what could Jarrett possibly do?

He could give you back,said the taunting little voice. The cruel doubt. He just needs you to get his inheritance. If Jarrett asks him, Thoran could divorce you once he gets what he wants and give you back. You're just a means to an end.

No!

No. I didn't believe that.

Thoran wouldn't do that.

"Blue?" I raised my face off his damp chest to peer up at the man I was so in love with it physically hurt. I stared up into eyes I could happily sink into and drown. "What is it?"

No. He wouldn't.

I believed that.

I had to.

I gave him what I hoped was an assuring smile. "Nothing. Nervous."

He planted a kiss to my forehead. "Don't be. It'll just be you, me, Vance, and Cyrus. And the justice of the peace," he added.

"What about the other woman?"

A tiny crease formed between his brows. "Once I tell Vance I've changed my mind, he'll call and let her people know, I suppose."

Let her people know.

I'd been wondering about the other woman, the one Vance was expecting to show up at the courthouse. Unlike me, she would know about Thoran's history. Despite it, she had agreed to marry him.

Or someone was forcing her to. I knew all about that. Only unlike how my parents sold me to Jarrett at sixteen, she was only just being told. She was probably terrified. I had been. For weeks, I had lain awake in my bed, waiting for Jarrett to swoop in and drag me away. If Malcolm hadn't promised he wouldn't allow that to happen, I would have lost my mind.

"Blue?"

I blinked out of my spiraling thoughts to focus on the weight of Thoran's body settled against mine. His fingers were under my chin. His eyes cutting through the shower to find mine.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I was just wondering what will happen to her."

He studied my face, his expression bemused.

I didn't expect him to understand my concern. Only those of us raised with the blade of marriage steady against our throat could comprehend the magnitude of his rejection. To a normal person, it wasn't a big deal, but if this was something she had no control over, it could mean pain and punishment. She could be marked.

I had been practically wrapped in pink lace and white ribbons and gifted to Jarrett on a silver platter. Mother would have skinned me alive if she even suspected I somehow lost his attention; I missed his call once when I was seventeen because Mother had put me in the closet for displeasing her. That unavoidable act had earned me thirty lashes with the crop across my backside and thighs.

Even years later, my skin still prickled.

"Naya?" He grazed my cheek, taking me out of that memory.

"What will happen to her if you turn her away?" I asked him.

He shook his head. "I don't know. She'll go home, I suppose. It doesn't matter."

"It does," I whispered. "Someone agreed for her to marry you. I doubt she volunteered. What will they do to her if she doesn't uphold the bargain?"

Thoran studied me, his eyes searching. I could see he was trying to put some puzzle together and I didn't blame him. I wasn't making much sense.

"I'll ask," he said at last, and I exhaled.

"Thank you."

He pressed a kiss to my forehead before pulling back to shut the water off. I was bundled up in a towel and carried from his room to mine.

He sat me down, frowning. "We're moving your clothes into the other room when we get back."

I chuckled. "You bought me half the store. Half of them are still in the bags because I have no room." I gestured to the corner where I'd neatly stacked most of my new clothes. "I don't mind using this room as my closet."

Thoran pursed his lips, brows furrowed. "Then I'll build a door. I don't want you walking around the halls in a towel every morning."

"You are not!" I gasped, horrified. I pointed to the beautiful wallpaper and intricate carvings lining the wall between our rooms. "You would destroy all of that. Besides, that wall is where your bed is and that thing can't be moved. Where would you put it?"

His frown deepened. "Then I'll move in here."

I bit back my amusement by cupping his face between my hands. "I'm not giving up that view in the morning." I kissed him softly. "How about I move my usual day wear into your room and leave the dresses in here?"

I watched him consider my logic and saw when he relented. "Fine. We'll do that when we get back."

I raised an eyebrow. "You want to move clothes on our honeymoon?"

His grin was slow and devastating. "We'll take periodic and lengthy breaks." He nipped lightly on my bottom lip. "We have a whole house to christen." Heat washed up into my face and he laughed. I got a hard kiss on the mouth before he drew back. "Get dressed. I'll be back in an hour."

An hour wasn't enough time to pull together a proper bridal appearance. My wedding to Jarrett took six years of preparations, thousands of hours and four seamstresses for my dress alone. A dress already packed and waiting for me at Jarrett's estate where a small army of people had been enlisted to create a fairytale wedding that didn't happen.

Yet, despite the grueling hours standing perfectly still for every fitting and listening to Mother organize every detail down to the length of the grass outside the church, this was the wedding that made me excited. Made me want to be someone's wife.

Thoran's.

I couldn't wait, even with the heavy weight of trepidation curling tight around my nerves. I told myself Thoran would somehow figure it out, but I knew nothing could be that easy.

Still, I unearthed a dress from the closet, a simple, white attire with a square neck and thick straps over the shoulders. It fell in delicate layers from a cinched waist and swirled around my ankles. I added white pumps and applied a very light touch of makeup mainly around the eyes and, of course, Thoran's favorite lipstick. My hair was curled and left down around my shoulders in a heavy cape. I added a long, black coat to cover the dress; it may not have been a real wedding, but I still craved the look on Thoran's face when he saw me.

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves, to steel them. My fingers brushed the wool fabric covering my gown. My stomach in knots.

"I love him," I told my scared reflection in the oval mirror. "He's not Jarrett. He's not going to hurt me."

I believed it with my whole heart. I just hoped I wasn't wrong.

I siphoned an ocean of air into my lungs and closed my eyes. My heart beat in my throat. Sweat stung the cuts across my palms that wiping on my coat only agitated.

"It's going to be okay," I whispered to myself.

A hand touched my shoulder, pressing a cold weight through my clothes. I spun, expecting Thoran and finding only air and silence. My hands jumped up to the spot now tingling with residual contact. My eyes scanned the room for a person I knew couldn't have gotten in without me noticing.

I open my mouth. Not sure what I want to say, but I was saved by the soft knock on the door. As it always did, Thoran's arrival stole any other thought and I found myself hurrying to answer.

He stood with an arm braced against the doorframe clad in a stunning suit in soft black that was definitely tailor made to fit every line and muscle of his perfect body. It stretched across his chest, narrowed at his waist, and accentuated the long lines of his legs. With his face cleanly shaven and his hair slicked back ... I sucked in a breath without thinking.

"Oh."

Dark, hungry eyes that had been working the length of me from head to toe in languid strokes rose up beneath thick lashes and fixed on mine with a deep, guttural exhalation. "Christ, baby, I can't wait until you're all mine."

My skin tingled all over at the predatory promise.

Maybe it was a threat?

Whatever it was, my stomach was an eruption of desire and giddy delight. His lips curled up on one side as if knowing exactly what he was doing to me.

The hand next to my head lowered. The fingers unfurled to offer me his square palm. I accepted without hesitation and felt the curl of those long digits as clearly as if he'd wrapped them around my chest.

Together, we made our way to the staircase. His grip was firm guiding me to the bottom in my heels. Oliver, Vance and Cyrus were the only three there.

"Oh, Miss Smith, you look beautiful," Oliver said, hands clasping over his heart. "I wish Abby could be here. She would have made such a fuss."

I would have liked to have Thoran's parents there. I would have liked to see them far more than my own parents. Them and Malcolm.

"Thank you," I said. "Are you coming with us?"

Oliver glanced in Thoran's direction, expression a mixture of regret and apology. "I would love nothing more, but it's a small ceremony and only two people, besides the bride and groom can attend. Vance will be needed and Cyrus should be there."

My thoughts flicked to the thirty-two pages of names Mother had sent to Jarrett's people. I didn't even know how many people Jarrett had on his list. People I had never even met.

Vance wasn't the person I would have chosen, but he was still higher on the list than Mother. Oliver I would have liked to see there with Thoran, as his uncle, and Cyrus made sense.

"I'm sorry you can't come," I said. "I know we would have loved to have you there."

"Next one," Thoran promised. His fingers squeezed mine. "The one that counts."

My stomach fluttered. I had to stave off the urge to kiss him. He wasn't making it easy to behave.

"I have some business that requires my attention, but I will see you both in the morning ... assumingly." The teasing quirk of his eyebrow warmed my cheeks.

Vance checked his watch. "We should head out." His dark eyes moved from Thoran to me. Cool. Indifferent. "I wager you have some type of paperwork."

I opened my mouth to tell him I didn't, but Thoran beat me to it. "No, we'll need to handle that."

Vance looked neither surprised nor pleased but kept his comment to himself as he jostled the briefcase at his side.

"I did have questions about the other woman," I murmured.

"What about her?"

I glanced sideways at Thoran before continuing. "What's going to happen to her?"

Vance remained bemused as he studied me. "I informed Toska of the changes this morning after I was made aware of them and he was rightfully upset, but Kiara understood."

"Is that who it was?" Thoran asked, not exactly sounding interested or disappointed, but surprised. "I thought she was already married."

Vance shrugged. "Kiara recently lost her husband to an ... accident."

Thoran hummed softly and turned his attention down to me. "She'll be fine." To Vance, because the man suddenly seemed suspicious and confused, he said, "Blue was worried she might get in trouble for not getting married."

Dark eyebrows winged up in surprise. "Oh ... no, Kiara is quite fine. She volunteered. She's had her eye on expanding her own power now that her husband is no more. It made sense to set her sights on Thoran."

It surprised me and didn't. Thoran was exceptionally beautiful in that dark, twisted way of his, but he was kind and selfless. He would be highly sought after if it weren't for that small house problem. But I never expected someone to accept the position knowing the risks simply for more power.

"Thank you," I said to Vance.

He inclined his head and that seemed to be the end of it as we filed out the front doors and to the dark SUV parked in front. Thoran opened the back door for me and waited until I was fully seated before shutting me in and exchanging a couple of words with Vance and Cyrus. The two nodded before joining me. Vance took the passenger's seat. Cyrus took the driver's seat, and Thoran got into the back with me. Our eyes met in the dim cabin, and he reached for my hand.

I held it in my lap, comforted by the warmth and steadiness of it. I must have been holding too tight, or shaking too hard, because he gave my fingers a light squeeze before bringing the knuckles to his lips.

Arriving at the courthouse took forty minutes of silent driving. Another ten minutes of silent walking around the stucco exterior to the front doors and inside. I held onto Thoran as if we were marching into enemy territory and he was my only safeguard. The noise in my head was deafening and vicious, cutting slices into my resolve the deeper we went. No amount of assuring myself everything would be fine lightened the suffocating fog clouding my brain.

Jarrett could find me. Once I filled out the paperwork, he could easily track me down, or worse, Mother. She could find me.

I couldn't lie here. Lying made the papers fake. The marriage. It could jeopardize Thoran's rights to the house. His whole life. I couldn't do that to him. Also, I didn't want this to be a fake marriage. I didn't want it not to be real.

So, when the kind woman behind the desk with the silver glasses and soft cloud of white hair handed me a clipboard to write all my information, my hands shook so hard, I dropped it all with a deafening clatter to the floor.

"It's all right, sweetheart," she said kindly as Thoran bent to pick it up. "Everyone gets nervous."

I thanked her and Thoran and took the stiff board and four pages to the nearest chair.

The words and lines swayed and blurred across the paper as I tried to focus on the questions. They were pretty basic but when I scribbled Naya Blackwell into the proper slot, I thought of Malcolm.

Malcolm's beautiful face peering at me from the open car door, his blue eyes impossibly bright.

"I love you. Trust no one."

But I trusted Thoran.

I loved him.

He would never hurt me. He wouldn't let anything else hurt me either, especially not Jarrett but ... what if Jarrett was stronger? What if his army was bigger, his power unmatched even from Thoran? Was I putting Thoran and Oliver, and all the men at Lacroix House in danger?

I contemplated telling him everything right there, but he would tell me he would take care of it and not to worry, but I was worried.

There was also the fact that what if I told him and he suddenly decided his friendship was more important than some girl?

So, I licked my lips and threw all my trust into listening to the little voice telling me Thoran would never hurt me. I put all my faith into it and filled out the documents.

"Okay?" Thoran asked quietly when I finished and handed Vance my clipboard.

I didn't miss the thorough glance he fanned over the pages, and I waited with the walls of my esophagus pasted together for him to look up, point a long finger at me, and yell I was a liar.

But he strangely didn't. As Thoran's advisor, I had been so certain he would recognize my name for sure. Still, he took the clipboard to the counter and shared several low murmurs with the receptionist.

"Naya?" Thoran reminded me he'd spoken, and I nodded.

"Nervous," I whispered.

"Hey," his fingers slipped beneath my dipped chin and lifted my face to his. He didn't kiss me, but he held my gaze. "Everything will be fine."

I had no choice but to believe him when our name was called, and I was getting unsteadily to my feet. Thoran held my hand the entire way into the spacious office that held the sweet scent of lemon cleaner and taffy. We were positioned before a large, oak desk.

Mother's wedding planner had walked me through the step-heel-step stride I was supposed to take down the aisle but there was none of that. I was standing before Thoran. Facing him in the brightly lit office

Gingerly, I undid the buttons on my coat and let the material glide down my arms. Cyrus reached over silently and accepted it without being asked. I glanced over at him and smiled.

"Thank you."

He inclined his head and casually draped it over his arms.

Lighter, slightly chilly from the loss of warmth, I faced my soon to be husband.

Thoran was working his way up my legs, eyes tangling in my skirt and following the lines of my waist to stop at my chest before meeting my gaze. His attention to every curve of me had the cold dissipating and my skin prickling with warmth.

Fuck, you're beautiful,his eyes said.

The hard slant of his jaw.

His flared nostrils.

I feel his heat roll over me like a wave and I forget where we are until the justice of the peace clears his throat.

I blinked and flushed and quickly dropped my gaze. I carefully retracted the step I'd unconsciously taken forward only to have Thoran capture my wrist and tug me back to him. Both of my hands were taken and held in his large ones as if assuring I wouldn't try again.

"That's too far," he said low under his breath.

The tips of our shoes nearly touched. My skirt whispered around his legs. I was close enough that I could almost count his lashes, and still, he was right.

He was too far.

Words were spoken and lost in the cotton candy cloud soaking into my brain. We were asked to repeat vows and promise each other a single lifetime together and I hurt a little thinking no way was that enough. It annoyed me that we hadn't met sooner. That it wasn't him in Jarrett's place. But Thoran would never lust after a fourteen-year-old. He wouldn't do the things Jarrett did.

"Longer," Thoran murmured, upending an entire ocean of desire straight into my soul. A cascade of warmth trickled across my skin, and I shivered. His fingers flexed around mine. "Your turn, love," he teased when the justice had to repeat himself.

"I'm sorry. Yes. Yes, I very much so do."

When Thoran was asked for the rings, I expected him to tell the other man we were ill prepared and we'd get them at the bigger ceremony, but Cyrus stepped forward and drew out twin boxes in velvet black. He checked the bottoms, looking a bit sheepish before passing Thoran the bigger one.

The stiff, gold hinges creaked under the fingers prying the top back. Soft, navy-blue silk shimmered in the light before the early afternoon caught the most stunning and familiar, princess cut diamond nestled in a circle of elegant silver and surrounded by a small cluster of flawless emeralds. The second one was a simple silver circle with tiny, square cut diamonds around the band.

The bigger one went on my finger first. Then the band. Both fit a little too well, as if designed specifically for me, but I gasped as something much deeper dawned on me.

"Your mother's?"

Or a very good replica of the one in his parents' portrait.

Thoran nodded, gaze fixed on the thumb he smoothed over the set. "She used to tell me they would be mine when I got married."

I didn't want to think they could have been worn by any of the other five women before me and focused on the fact that they were mine. I got to wear them. I was Thoran's wife and, one day, the mother of his children. The person who got to spend the rest of her life with him.

"We're nearly finished," the justice promised when I had to be jostled again.

Cyrus opened the second box and held it out for me to pluck the matching, male version of my wedding band from the satin bed. A smooth, silver with a single, square diamond and much weightier than mine. I hadn't realized how badly I was shaking until I nearly dropped it once and missed his finger several times.

"Can we start over? I'll do better," I only half teased.

"Shhh, we're nearly at my favorite part." Thoran grinned.

We were both grinning when the justice finally allowed him to kiss the bride.

It was a long, deep kiss that momentarily had me forgetting where I was when my body bowed into his and my fingers slid into his hair. But even when I heard the discreet cough and started to pull back, Thoran tightened his hold.

"I'll tell them to fucking leave," he growled into my ear, and I laughed, breathless.

"Take me home," I said instead.

"Home," he groaned against my mouth.

I hadn't meant to imply Lacroix House was my home, but I guess it was. It was my home and Thoran was my husband, and I would never be Naya Blackwell again, or Naya Brixton.

Naya Lacroix.

It sounded so much better.