Page 31 of Captive Audience
I knelt beside Asha, cradled her face in my palms, and gentlystroked her cheek with my thumbs. “Come on, pet. Wake up a little.”
One eye opened, then the other, but only halfway. “Hey, handsome.” Her lazy smile just about floored me before she closed her eyes again.
“Asha.” I tapped her face lightly, and she came to once more. “I need you to do something for me now, and it’s important. Just sayI do.”
“Huh?” she answered groggily. “I do? I do what?”
“Never mind, love. That’s perfect.” But before I could finish the sentence, her lids had lowered. Out to it once more.
“There, you heard it.” I stood and gestured to Asha. “She saidI do.”
Behind me, Aidan snorted.Eejit.
“Rings?” Father Sheehan asked.
I dug the two gold rings from my pocket, placed the thick band on my ring finger, and slipped the smaller one over Asha’s. The flawless eight-carat emerald, surrounded by tiny glistening diamonds and held up by two red hands, was essential because no wife of mine—fake or otherwise—would be seen without the best.
That wasn’t the only reason for the flashy ring. Those bloodred hands told every bastard in the Philly underworld that the wearer belonged to the Beasts. If a woman wore it and she wasn’t your wife or your kin, you walked away. You certainly didn’t fucking touch her. Not unless you wanted to die a slow, painful death.
I went into my pocket again to remove a small pin-like tool that looked a lot like a miniature antique key. I inserted it in a port camouflaged within the gold band’s intricate Celtic pattern and twisted the tool to tighten the ring. A master jeweler had designed the bespoke piece for me so it couldn’t be removed without the key. If Asha wanted it off, she’d have to arrange for it to be carefully cut. I wouldn’t let that happen.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may…er…kiss the bride?”
I leaned down and kissed Asha’s forehead. Another small smile graced her full lips. Christ, she was beautiful.
There was that fucking twinge in my chest again.
This was messed up. I knew it. Aidan knew it. If Niall werealive, he’d tell me I’d lost my mind. But I couldn’t think of a less harmful way to get Asha to do what I needed. Marrying her kept her protected, and it kept her committed to finding the Soul Collector.
The only downside? As soon as she woke, she’d hate me with the intensity of…well…a wildfire. There was a reason I called her that. When Asha set her mind to something, nothing could stop her.
And if wrath fueled her to find the Soul Collector, so be it.
But this might be the last time she smiled at me. The last time she was soft and welcoming of my touch.
“Fuck it,” I said, and pressed my mouth firmly to hers, knowing I’d never get another chance to kiss my wife.
So I claimed this one like a man with nothing left to lose.
17
ASHA
Iwoke with sore muscles, a foggy brain, and a delicious ache between my thighs.
I sighed at the memory of last night and tugged the covers up to my chin. But the high-thread-count duvet wasn’t mine. It smelled like fancy detergent and the faintest trace of a masculine woodsy scent that made me press my nose to the fabric and inhale deeply.
I was still at Rook’s apartment. I remembered now. He’d said I could stay when I’d almost fallen asleep at his kitchen counter.
“Wake up, Asha.”
His deep voice with its appealing Irish lilt rid me of the last signs of sleepiness. My lids fluttered open, and there he was in the corner, sitting like a king in his leather chair, ankle resting on his knee. Hair combed back, thick stubble, and the top few buttons of his dark shirt undone to reveal a glimpse of the rock-hard chest beneath. All put together, all controlled.
But his hands betrayed him. One thumb rubbed a groove into the armrest as if he were bracing for something.
I sat up against the headboard. “What time is it?”
“Just after four.” His tone was flat, but his eyes flicked over me once, as though making sure I was whole. Then the mask slidback into place.
