Page 22 of Chosen

“Asshole!” she hissed, before planting her hand and trying again.

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“You call me a disrespectful rat, and you’re in the chapel half feral and cursing like a low-born wench.”

“I am a low-born wench, that doesn’t change the fact that you are an insufferable prick,” she carried on.

“Well, you had better figure out how to suffer me. We are to be wed. Now.” I clipped the last word and shot Enzo a look.

He bent down and brought out a bit of wine and some wafers.

“I’m not hungry,” I scowled, “Be gone with that, and say your holy words. Do what you must—”

Just then, Truth’s elbow caught me in the groin, and I doubled. It took the wind out of me. All I could do was squat there as white, blinding waves of pain seared through me.

“Now,” she softly mused, suddenly calm and collected. “Now we can be man and wife.”

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