Page 29 of Lethal Saint

It took nearly the whole day to get everything decided on, but I refused to rush. I had to make sure every choice we made waswhat Vasilisa wanted,trulywanted, not just what she thought she was allowed to have. By six o’clock, the binder was full of choices and her dream wedding was in motion, with a few additions by myself.

Today, peach carnations decorated the aisles of the church it had been hell to book on short notice—her choice of flower—with deep red roses the colour of blood—my choice. They reminded me of the violent light in her eyes when she pointed the gun at me, dressed in the blood of her enemies who’d died at my hand. It was a fond memory.

I’d already been into the nave to check everything was perfect, but I itched to double check, my neuroticism showing.

“Your sisters are going to murder you for not inviting them.” My dad, Kavan Marshall—known to most as the King—gave me a warning look as he stepped into the tiny space I was using as a dressing room.

I winced, adjusting my cufflinks. “I know.”

I’d taken fifteen minutes alone to get into my suit and style my hair in something more suitable for marrying a woman as angelic as Vasilisa. I should have expected Dad to follow me. I’d considered not inviting him, not telling him at all, but I didn’t want to get married without him here. It was hard enough not having Mum here.

“Are you sure about this? I know you’ve got a bleeding heart, Damien, but you don’t have to marry this girl. We’ll find another way to protect—”

“She’s mine,” I cut in, a growl in my voice as I glared at him from the corner of my eye.“I’llprotect her.”

Dad blinked, his irises the same inky shade as mine. “You don’t do things by halves, do you?” he asked with a curl of amusement. “Thirty-three years and barely more than a passing interest in marriage, and now you’re getting married overnight.”

“I was always interested,” I muttered, straightening my collar and checking my shoes were spotless. “I always wanted what you and Mum had. But I never found anyone.”

“And Vasilisa Ivanov…” he prompted, watching me closely as I pinned a carnation and a rose in my buttonhole, nodding in satisfaction at the impact. I was ready.

“Is an enigma.” I sighed, softening the possessiveness roaring in my blood as I faced him. “She’s frightened but defiant. She blooms in violence instead of wilting, and I’ve never known anyone like her.”

“Nothing like Liz then,” Dad checked with clear distaste.

“No.” I opened the door, itchy from being away from Vasilisa too long. What if she was afraid? I left her with Jonathan as a guard, and she was only next door putting on her dress, but—

“I’ve never seen you smitten before,” Dad remarked, watching me, his arms folded across his chest and straining the sleeves of his black suit. He’d even worn a bow-tie and styled his grey-gold hair into something other than the rakish sweep it was usually in. “I’m not sure if it’s cute or disturbing.”

“Shut up.” I rolled my eyes.

“Disturbing,” Jonathan grunted, light dancing in his eyes as he leaned beside the door where I’d left my fiancée.

“Vasilisa?” I called, rapping the wood with my knuckles. “You ready, little queen?”

Dad and Jonathan exchanged a glance; I shot them a warning with narrowed eyes. The bastards in my family would tease me endlessly the next time we were alone together. Although, strangely, the idea made me warm. Being at the Marshall family home with Vasilisa on my arm, my wife swept into the chaos and love of my family, blushing at all their ribbing and remarks. We might have been killers and bastards, but we were a family like any other.

“I’m ready,” she called from the other side of the door, her voice raised to carry through the door. It was the loudest I’d heard her, brighter and more musical than any of her hesitant murmurs and panicked whispers. God, even her voice was beautiful. My heart pounded.

“I’m walking you down the aisle, Vasilisa,” Jonathan said, turning his head to the closed door.

“And I’ll see you there,” I added, my stomach a little fluttery. I was… giddy. Excited to make this brave, strong, dangerous woman my wife. “You got your gun, Vasya?”

“Under my dress,” she confirmed.

“Good girl.” When the door cracked open, I gave the Knight a look that spoke volumes.Anything happens to her between this room and the aisle, you’re a dead man.He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, a matching posture to Dad’s.

“I’ll be waiting,” I told Vasilisa through the tiny crack in the door, only able to see a sliver of her brown eye, ringed with thick lashes.

I forced myself to turn away, to walk the circuitous path through old, gothic rooms, the scent of churches and history filling my lungs. I wasn’t just excited. I was nervous.

“You missed Sunday dinner,” Dad pointed out when we reached the nave, the rows of seats lined with flowers but empty. For Vasilisa’s safety, it would stay that way.

“We’ll be at the next one.”

My heart clenched. These seats should have been full of people, full of my family and friends, full of people who loved Vasilisa. But like hell was I inviting her father or brothers. Not that Artur was in a fit state to be here; I paid him a little visit last night, wearing knuckle dusters so I didn’t get my hands bloody for my big day. Vasilisa had no idea I’d been working on her brother while she slept, prising truths out of him.

He never touched her, but he’d thought about it. In explicit detail. And he knew about hertraining,knew about the business deals to sell her body and her hand in marriage. He fuckinglaughed.By the time I was done with him, he couldn’t gurgle let alone laugh, but he refused to say where his father had crawled off to.

---