Page 90 of Necessary Cruelty

Even Iain seems surprised when he sees it, eyebrows raised as I shove the thing on Zaya’s finger. He won’t say anything, not about this or anything else, but that doesn’t mean he approves. Iain lives in a house made of spun glass, so he isn’t about to go around throwing stones.

I didn’t have the ring sized, and she has to squeeze her hand into a fist to keep it from slipping down to her knuckle.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmurs, voice barely audible.

As if it matters.

But from the looks on their faces, I wonder if I might have made a mistake. Maybe I should have grabbed some gaudy thing from the jewelry store at the mall. I assumed it would be too much to pick out a ring specifically for her, but handing over a family heirloom might be sending a message I didn’t necessarily intend.

Too late now.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the justice intones softly, as if any part of this charade is worthy of gravity.

Both of us freeze like we’ve been splashed with frigidly cold water and then dropped unceremoniously in Siberia.

Zaya and I don’t kiss. Ever.

I don’t kiss anyone.

It started as an unspoken rule that grew into something infamous and is now a matter of gospel. Girls have placed bets in the past over whether they could get me to stick my tongue down their throats. Never happened.

That show at the Founder’s Ball with Sophia was the notable exception, but I only did that because regardless of how much it skeeved me out, it was worth the benefits. The look on Zaya’s face when she caught sight of us will be my fondest memory for years to come.

But this isn’t about jealousy or power plays.

Even though there are only four of us standing here, and no one in the empty lawn chairs spread out on the grass, the silence stretches uncomfortably long. Iain vibrates slightly behind me, and I don’t need to look to know it’s from suppressed laughter.

I turn to Zaya, assuming she’ll be looking down at her own feet in shame.

Instead, she boldly stares right at me. The expression on her face is frankly exasperated, like I’m a little kid about to throw a fit because I don’t want to eat my vegetables. She doesn’t look afraid of my reaction, but like she pities me.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says to the justice of the peace, dramatically rolling her eyes as if they’re both in on some joke. “We can just skip that part.”

When the justice nods in sympathetic understanding, I want to punch the man right in the throat whom I begged to drive out here at dawn.

Zaya is in my arms before the justice has a chance to pronounce us anything. She stares up at me in obvious shock, and I relish seeing that look on her face. I give her half a second to pull away before I jump over my line in the sand and then blow up the whole beach.

She doesn’t even look away.

I kiss her like I want to suck the soul out of her body. If this were a real wedding, I’d be embarrassed by us both. But the only people here to see this are my best friend and a justice of the peace who probably got ordained over the Internet. No one who matters will ever find out about this, but I’m still determined to make it count.

My mouth owns hers, a prelude to what I’m going to do with the rest of her body. Her mocking smile evaporates as quickly as it formed. The pressure of my mouth won’t let her do anything but part her lips with a gasp. I bend her over my arm, forcing her body backward in a way that looks romantic but can’t possibly be comfortable.

If I let go of her, she’ll fall. I hope she’s smart enough to understand the lesson in that.

Her small hands grip my shoulders. Nails dig into my skin even through my dress shirt, but I ignore them. My tongue forces its way halfway down her throat until I inhale the sound of protest. She tastes like resistance and spun sugar, even though I woke her up in the middle of the night.

What started out as an attack quickly turns sensuous. I tease at her lips with mine, even as my tongue invades every corner of her mouth. I kiss her like she belongs to me.

Because as of this moment, she does.

When I finally release her, I have to hold on to her shoulders for a few seconds before Zaya can stand on her own. I make a point of keeping the look of triumph on my face when she looks up at me.

She glares at me, but keeps her mouth clamped shut.

The justice seems taken aback, but quickly recovers. He doesn’t meet my gaze as he fumbles for the bible in his hands.

“I now pronounce you man and wife.”

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