Page 71 of Iron Blade

“Good lord, you’ve never…” Dairo slammed a hand over his forehead and started to laugh - an uncontrollable belly laugh that made me want to punch him in the throat. “Not even a little? Just the tip?”

I glared at him, which made him laugh even more.

“When have you ever been so chaste?” He jumped off the altar so he could bend over and laugh with his hands on his knees. “If I had known this, I woulda told you to marry her sooner. Imagine, Eoghan Green, not getting between the thighs of a New York City woman! Did she rebuff you? Is that why you’re in love? Are you marrying her because she was the only one who wouldn’t put out for the famous…”

“I love you, Dairo, but I will punch you in this house of worship, I swear.” I was seconds from clobbering my best mate. “You can deliver my vows with blood running down your face, and I wouldn’t care.”

Dairo suddenly stood up straight, his eyes going past me to the church doors, his mouth open.

“What?” I asked him, still ready with a clenched fist to fight off an Italian posse if I had to. News of Morelli’s disappearance must have spread by now. Retaliation would be swift.

But Dairo didn’t say anything. He just grabbed me by the shoulders and spun me to face the double doors.

The vision standing there made my knees weak.

I placed a hand on my chest, as she walked towards me. A long bouquet of elegant orchids draped down from her hands at her waist, almost dragging on the ground.

Her train was long, sparkling, and of the most delicate translucent fabric. Her body was hugged by the draped, dreamy-looking dress, as if she was wearing the sparkle of evening clouds. Her dark skin against the crisp white fabric gave the sweetest hint of fullness, as her round hips and breasts tested the intricate bodice.

Her wild, black hair was loose to her waist, reminding me of the ocean waves at night.

I thought she would have shown up with a crown of diamonds, but I was wrong. She had a crown of the same white orchids and green leaves that matched the emerald on her finger.

I grabbed Dairo’s sleeve, pulling him close to me.

“My God,” I sighed. “I’m marrying Persephone herself.”

“Careful, cousin,” Dairo chuckled. “That would make you King of the Underworld.”

Dairo stepped away from me as my bride walked towards me, her dress floating along the marble floors of the Catholic Church.

Piano music floated in the air. I recognized it immediately. Just like my paintings had their own signature and appearance, so did Dairo’s playing. He was playing Reverie by Debussy, a song that encapsulated the moment perfectly.

Reverie, the French word for “dream”.

That’s what this moment was. A woman in white, her downcast eyes giving her the look of a humble Madonna - a saint among women.

I would rule the Underworld for eternity, if it meant I could keep her by my side.

The lengths I would go to keep her knew no bounds.

I could not have devised a more perfect bride in my imaginings. The orchids, the flower crown, the body that I longed to devour… When her eyes lifted from the ground and fell on me, I was ready to fall to my knees in joy. I wanted to bow to the ground, and kiss her shoe, and declare myself unworthy of her love.

When she got close to me, I reached out my hand. She took it, holding the bouquet to the side in one hand as she stood in front of me.

Dairo finished the melody and abandoned the piano to stand with us.

He smirked at me, but I didn’t care. I was enthralled by my bride.

“Dearly beloved,” he started, and I tuned out his annoying British voice.

Instead I concentrated on memorizing every eyelash on my bride’s eyes. The soft roundness of her cheeks, and the deep, warm color of her beautiful skin was buffed and shined to perfection without taking away from the allure of her sharp, intelligent eyes.

“Do you, Eoghan Cillian Green, take Kira Kekoa to be your lawfully wedded wife?” Dairo finally said.

“I do.”

I tightened my hand on hers, as Dairo repeated the question to her.

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