Page 23 of Lethal Queen

“Heart-stoppingly beautiful,” Rae stage-whispered.

“Yeah,” Damien breathed. “Fuck, Vasya, you sure you’re mine?”

“A hundred percent,” I confirmed, and because Rae said my lips were transferproof there was nothing stopping me kissing my husband. This whole night was to celebrate our marriage after all; why not start celebrating early?

“That’s fine,” Wyn remarked. “Just act like we’re not here. We’re only your sisters, who’d really rathernotwatch you stick your tongue down someone’s throat.”

Damien released me when I was gasping, my whole body alight with fluttering warmth and happiness. “Not just someone,my wife.”

“‘My wife’,”Rae echoed, her voice deep and growly. “You sound like a grizzly bear.”

I snorted, light and giddy. We were already married, but tonight felt official. A declaration of our marriage, an announcement that no one would—or could—separate us.

“You’re supposed to be on my side, not laughing at my sister’s mockery,” Damien said, pouting at me.

“But her impression is so accurate.”

Damien tightened his hands around my waist and wrenched me closer until I pressed against him everywhere, the dark gleam in his eyes making my heart quickened.

“Get over here, grizzly,” Rae said with an audible eye roll. “I’ll do your hair.”

Damien turned to frown at his sister. “It’s done…?”

He’d gelled it back from his face in a clear effort, and it made him look even more criminal and dangerous. Villainous. I was definitely into it. But when Raegan dragged him away from me and freed a few strands of burnished gold to fall across his forehead, then ran her fingers through his gelled hair, changing the shape to something more flattering, I decided I’d never question her again.

“What’s the verdict, Vasya?” she asked, releasing my husband.

I met his eyes, forcing myself to look at his hair before trailing my stare down his intense expression, stubbled jaw, tempting lips, and the suit that fit the contours of his lithely powerful body so flawlessly.

“Nothing PG,” I answered finally, making Damien’s eyes brighten and his mouth tug up into a wicked smile.

“On that note,” Rose said, linking her arm with mine, “let’s go. We have a reception to be at and we’re already risking being late. No time for canoodling.”

Behind us, Rae laughed like a madwoman.

My face burned hotter than the sun, but the feeling in my chest was unmistakable: happiness.

CHAPTER 11

DAMIEN

Food, family, and the chance to show off my wife—this was pretty much my dream night. It didn’t hurt that while I’d brought my security team, so had Dad, my brothers, Cameo, and every one of the group of friends I’d invited. It was a small affair, but as with everything the Marshalls put their mind to, it was over the top, extravagant, and unapologetic.

Our wedding had been beautiful and understated—raw and hopeful. Here, there were fire jugglers, ice sculptures of swans and lions, a pop singer who made Vasya grab my arm and dig her fingernails in, her eyes wide and round. And a fucking topiary.

“Uh, what exactly is that?” Vasilisa whispered, seeing the focus of my attention, which should have been my insanely beautiful wife or the fancy French dessert in front of me, but was once more the topiary.

“I’m not sure.”

“I think it’s a giraffe,” Rose ventured where she sat opposite us, her desert already vanished.

“Llama,” Wyn put in, giving the pruned bush—not a euphemism—a fond glance.

“It’s clearly a meerkat,” Dad disagreed, tilting his head at the topiary that sat off to the side of the stage that had been cleared in the small, extravagant function room. I had vetoed the idea of a larger space; it was too similar to the ballroom where I first found Vasilisa. The last thing I wanted was to trigger my wife at our reception.

“What if it’s a cat standing on its back legs?” Vasya mused, her chin propped on her hand and a smile on her face. She’d been doing that more freely lately—smiling. It gave me both a sense of achievement and butterflies in the pit of my stomach. “I’ve seen them do that on Instagram.”

“Whose idea was the topiary anyway?” I asked, my hand finding its way to Vasilisa’s knee.

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