Page 23 of Malicious Wedding

“I’ll take you to the hospital. You can visit with your brother. When you’re finished, instead of going to Bottle of Smoke, you’ll come home with me, back to the Crowley Mansion. You’ll get yourself settled and stay there for the foreseeable future.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Foreseeable future?”

“Until I’ve managed to stop the people that want to hurt you.” He moves close then, crushing the distance between us, and puts a hand on my arm. He doesn’t grab, doesn’t squeeze, and his touch sends a wild, stupid thrill into my guts. His presence looms, his mouth too close, his smell overwhelming.

“What if you can’t?”

“I can and I will. But you haven’t heard the end of my offer.”

“There’s more? Free run of your fancy mansion isn’t enough?”

“I’ll protect you, Ash. I’ll buy the best doctors and medical care in the world to save Iain. I’ll even protect the remaining members of your family. All those scared aunts and cousins. In exchange, I’ll ask you to do one thing for me.”

“What’s that?” If he says something dirty, I might explode. I’m about to throw myself at this man even if that means getting myself killed.

My hands are shaking, my back is sweating.

Carson standing this close is sending my nervous system spinning into hyperdrive.

He leans closer and whispers.

“I want you to marry me.”

His words feel like someone sucked my brains out through my ears. I blink at him, numb and not understanding.

Then I burst out laughing.

Chapter11

Carson

She laughs. It’s not ideal.

I’ve never proposed to someone before, but I’m pretty sure they’re not supposed to treat it like a joke.

“Marry you? Are you being serious right now? You wantmeto marryyou? That’s just—that’s just—it’snot funny. It’s the worst joke in the world!”

“And yet you’re laughing.”

Her mirth dies down, replaced by anger. She tries to shove me back, but it’s like being punched by an annoyed toddler. “I’m not marrying you. I don’t evenlikeyou, why the hell would we get married? You can’t possibly want that from me. I don’t even want your protection, and you think I’d marry you for it? This is just—I don’t even—I can’t—” She moves past me, heading to the door.

Throwing a tantrum all because I want to make her my wife.

“I can save Bottle of Smoke.”

She pauses, hand on the doorknob, and looks back. “You can… what?”

“I can save Bottle of Smoke,” I repeat more slowly. Staring at her, looking at every one of her little reactions, all her microexpressions. Sadness, anger, and yes, there’s lust in her eyes too. She wants to fuck me like I want to fuck her. Like I want to destroy her. “I can do more than save it. You want an investment of half a million dollars? Consider it done. You want more? Double, triple? I can give you that much every year if that’s what you want.”

She doesn’t move. It’s like she’s trapped here, unable to bring herself to open that door. Her jaw works, stunned.

I feast on her. I stare at my Ash, eyes roaming down her body, my blood thrumming to the beat of her breathing.

God, I’ve been picturing this moment in my head for so long, and now that it’s here, now that she’s standing in front of me looking more perfect than I ever could’ve dreamed, it’s like my life finally makes sense.

Everything I’ve done.

Everyone I’ve hurt, everyone I’ve killed.

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