Page 71 of King of the Cage

“Run away from what?” I demanded, fully awake now. My heart beat hard, and nerves crawled up my throat.

Bran paused before the priest. He looked down at me, still caught in his arms.

“Our wedding.”

He set me down, and it wasn’t until the priest stepped forward and made the sign of the cross in front of us that my brain kicked into gear.

“You can’t be serious?” I gaped at him.

The priest cleared his throat, obviously impatient, and spoke. “Dearly beloved, we’re gathered here, at the arse-end of the night, for one reason, the only one that could pull me from my kip at this hour,” he intoned solemnly.

A chorus ofamensechoed around the crowd.

“What the hell is this?” I asked, properly taking in the so-called priest for the first time. He had tattoos on nearly every inch of exposed skin, except his face. I turned around and stared at the audience. Made men of the O’Connor family, and their wives, all turned out in the small hours of the morning for a wedding.

Mywedding.

Who I assumed to be Colm O’Connor, the patriarch, sat in the wheelchair, security around him, gazing on at us approvingly.

“What are you doing? Is this a joke? You only said I was your fiancée to save the situation — it was just a ploy!”

Bran shook his head. He was wearing his white shirt and black pants from earlier. His sleeves were rolled back to his elbows,and his long blond hair was pulled sharply back. He looked cleaner and tidier than I’d ever seen him.

“No. I just let you think that, selkie. You and I were always going to end up here.”

“No, we weren’t. I’m not getting married, ever, at all. Not as some silly act to keep The Enclave off my back, and not for anything else, either!”

“I’m afraid you are. You are marrying me. I think I’ve known that, deep down, since that night I saw you at Renato’s wedding.”

I shook my head, caught between confusion and fury. I took a step back and came up against a hard body.

Declan, right behind me.

Two more men stood below us, like lethal, tattooed bridesmaids, making sure I wasn’t going anywhere.

“Now, if the blushing bride would kindly shut her sailor’s mouth, we can get on with this thing,” the priest announced. “Do you, Brandon O’Connor, take this woman, Giada Santori, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, to shelter and respect, to protect until your dying breath?”

I stared open-mouthed at Bran as he nodded. “I do.”

“What the hell?” I cried out and reached for him. “You don’t need to do this. You want me out of everything to do with The Enclave? That’s fine, I’m out. Just don’t do this.”

“Giada Santori, do you take this man, Brandon O’Connor, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to shelter and respect, to protect until your dying breath?”

“No! I absolutely fucking do not,” I retorted.

“Excellent, then in the power vested in me from that website I registered on a few hours ago, I now pronounce you husband and wife.

As I stared around in horror at the priest, a tight, constricted feeling enveloped my ring finger. Bran had forced on a ring. I snatched my hand away and tried to tug it off. He watched me as I struggled, slipping a gold band onto his own ring finger.

“It won’t come off. It’s super glued,” he said with all seriousness. I could only stare at him.

The priest cleared his throat.

“Right, kiss each other, kill each other, do what you want,” the priest said then lit a cigarette, while the rest of the room erupted in cheers and bawdy suggestions.

“What the hell? That wasn’t a wedding. I never said yes!”

The priest shrugged. “I heard a ‘yes.’”

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