He would’ve died protecting me. And although it was romantic to have that sort of power, it was a huge responsibility.

“You okay?” Suzette squeezed my arm.

Her touch wrenched me from my thoughts. “Yes, sorry.”

I held my hand out, admiring my wing-inspired ring. After everything we’d been through, I hadn’t had time to buy Q a ring. “I’ve failed in the only job I had for this wedding.”

Suzette glanced at my ring.

“I didn’t get him one. What can I put on his finger after our vows?”

Nothing. You’ll have to wait till you’re home.

We turned a corner, leaving the density of the palm trees to find a large white marquee, resting on the sands edge. The waves looked like turquoise glass, smacking gently onto sand—a silky ripple.

“Stop worrying. I have everything under control.” Suzette grinned. “All you need to worry about is not tripping up the aisle.”

We stopped outside the marquee. Two men in white uniforms smiled, pulling back the flaps of the venue.

“Ready to go to him?” Suzette whispered as we drifted forward, trading island sun for cool shadows. The tented world welcomed, hushing our footsteps. Tears glossed my eyes, imprinting the rapturous beauty.

“Suzette—” My red glitter high-heels wedged into the softness of the carpet, jerking us to a stop. “You did all this? It’s incredible.”

“You deserved a bit of paradise. I’m glad you like it.”

I couldn’t take it in. Too picturesque. Too perfect. The space was large, housing a row of five or six black chairs. Most were unoccupied, waiting for their owners who were part of the ceremony. It was small, intimate. Not that I’d expected crowds—or that Q would permit it.

The walls were covered with white satin drapery, making it seem like we’d stepped into a cloud. The ceiling held bolts of ivory fabric, swooping low, creating intimacy.

I’ll never forget this.

Then my eyes landed on him.

And the room paled entirely. I no longer cared about drapery or flowers. All I cared about was him. The man I was destined for.

My master. Husband. Lover. Protector.

My heart was never mine. It was his along. I’d been the guardian. Now he’d claimed it.

Him.

Q stood at the top of the aisle flanked by Franco and Frederick; the two groomsman wore matching grey suits, mirroring Suzette’s dress.

Q on the other hand wore white. His dark hair had been styled into the same pelt-like cut I remembered. His body stood proud and majestic, sheathed in a white blazer, waistcoat, and trousers. The only splash of darkness was a black tie. He looked incredible. He looked too much—too priceless to be real.

The moment our eyes met I felt faint, delirious.

He’s mine. I’m his.

I wanted to fly up the aisle and imprison him in my arms. From here he didn’t look hurt. From here he looked strong and savage—ready to kill or conduct a quiet business affair. He bordered the line of aggression so effortlessly.

His gaze stayed transfixed on me, his face locked into an unreadable mask.

Then the music changed.

It echoed with haunting bass notes, sorrowful flutes, and empowering chords.

A woman I didn’t know stood off to the side. Her polished ebony hair fell in heavy sheets over her shoulders, threaded with silver feathers. Her dark eyes assessed me, an appraising—almost haughty look—on her face. Her dress was grey too, shorter, fuller around her calves and detailed with pearl buttons on the bodice.

A smile transformed her coolness with warmth. Bowing her head, she raised a microphone to her lips and began to sing.

It was as if her voice carried every weapon imaginable—destroying me all at once. I knew her voice. Her passion, the rasp, the melancholy hope.

I shivered as the lyrics drilled their way into my heart.

I have no more need to hide—not now that I have you

I once had a loveless life—but now I’m falling true

You waltzed into my world—making me turn tame

You turned my wickedness into trust even without your name

The verse was about us—sang by the woman who’d recorded Q’s other songs—the same songs he’d played when I first arrived—the haunting melodies encouraging me to find the true Q—to hunt for the monster within.

The full circle on finally understanding his favourite artist stole strength from my legs.

Ever since I’d met Q, I’d been pulled deeper into darkness. I’d willingly embraced everything he’d given and would never be free.

I never want to be free.

“Let’s go,” Suzette whispered, tugging me forward, guiding me one step at a time. The humid island air glimmered with awareness. I never unlocked gazes with Q.

The sand beneath the carpet unsettled my footing, but my heart knew where to go. Every step was scary and foreign and unknown but at the same time joyous and perfect and right.

Q held out his hand, summoning me to him. His intense pale gaze sliced through my dress, leaving me completely exposed. My ni**les stiffened as my belly quickened.

Images of him hanging beaten and bloody snatched me from white perfection. I squeezed my eyes against the horribleness.

He almost died.

I almost lost him.

My chest rose, sucking in a calming breath. But I hadn’t lost him. He was here, waiting for me. Wanting to marry me.

My heart jangled. Will I hate myself for what I did to Lynx?

I waited for comeuppance.

I waited for guilt.

But all I felt was justified.

Shot, cut, electrocuted, and drowned, Q loved me so much he’d cheated death. He’d dressed a body that should be resting and stood atop an aisle where I would give him my heart.

Go to him. Be his medicine.

My pace increased. Suzette had no choice but to glide with me, quicker, quicker.

Q’s eyes warmed the closer I came. His face held shadows of bruises, his lips thinned against aches and stitches.

You can be vulnerable with me.

He stood taller, understanding my message.

I can relax with you in my arms. His eyes transmitted the thought powerfully.

The woman kept singing.

Everything horrible is now locked with gates

All our demons are exorcized

You are my sinner; my undisclosed master of my fate

Please me, and I’ll treat you fine

Tease me, and I’ll show you, you are mine

I never deviated or looked at the small number of guests. Every step they judged me—searching for any flaw that was undeserving of Q.

But they wouldn’t find me wanting. I’d earned my place by his side. I’d grown up. I’d embraced myself completely. And I had nothing left to fear—everything I’d done and endured lived in my eyes for the world to see—telling my story.

But only Q had the decryption.

Only he knew what I’d done. Only he knew who I’d become. And only he knew my sins. Just like I knew his.

Acceptance. Love. Commitment.

They were the perfect sins. Sins I would commit for the rest of my life.

You are the one for me, my monster in the dark

You are the perfect mate for me, wicked and unmarked

Together we cannot be denied, our undeniable spark

Together we will find our perfect evolving never ending arc

My breathing turned from low and deep to shallow and bird-quick. The aisle came to an end. Suzette squeezed my elbow. “Go marry your monster.” Letting go, she pushed me gently.

She sent me winging to Q. I left my past behind; I left earth behind—embracing my new home in the night sky.

The music drifted to a lasting note, fading away.

Q stole all my senses—just like he always did. I breathed in his citrus and sandalwood. I drank in his bruised face. I heard his heartbeat because it was the same as mine.

One beat. One thrum.

He stood steadfast; his eyes luminous with a mixture of love and trepidation. We stood stiff before each other. My hands wanted to touch. My lips wanted to kiss. And my heart wanted to erupt from my chest and land in his palms in gratitude. Gratitude for choosing me.

I was born for you.

His eyes tightened. His throat worked hard as he swallowed. The feathered wings in my stomach lived in him, too—mirroring our nervousness.

My breathing was shallow. I want you in bed. I want to whisper the vows to you alone. I want to give myself to you in every possible way a woman can.

Q’s lips twitched, his head lowered, but he never looked away. The intensity of his gaze sent a ripple of pleasure right to my core.

I stood before him and shamelessly grew wet.

My eyes dropped to his linked hands, hiding the swelling bulge in his trousers. My pu**y clenched, craving his touch. He was so damn handsome. So dignified and closed off. Only I saw the passion, the aggression.

My lips parted. I wanted his stern lips to kiss me sweetly. I wanted his harsh fingers to touch me gently. I wanted the privilege of hugging him while he took me slowly. Ever so slowly. Sinking together, drifting together, getting lost together.

I wanted love in physical expression.

Q broke his unreadable façade by taking my hand. His touch was a comet shooting from every finger, supercharging my body. His fingers tightened, cutting off my blood, transmitting his highly controlled need through one caress.

He stepped closer, tugging me into him.

The marquee ceased to exist. The guests were gone. The world was nothing. He was everything, and I needed him. Now.

A masculine cough right by my ear made me leap in my heels.

I tore my attention from Q, focusing on the man standing before us dressed in a well-cut linen suit.

Q chuckled quietly, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. “We’re not alone, esclave. Not yet.” His lips moved but his words were lower than a whisper, understood purely by my soul rather than ears.

The celebrant, the man who had the power to turn our two lives into one, grinned. His soft sable eyes, dark brown hair, and weather-worn face made him friendly and approachable.

“Welcome,” he said in a deep attention-grabbing voice. “I’m honoured to precede over your vows today. Are you ready to begin?”

Begin? So fast. No prelude or…

“You ready, mon amour?” Q raised my hand, kissing my ring. His dry warm lips teased a moan from my soul.

Looking into his eyes settled everything. Yes. I was ready.

I nodded, holding his fingers as my heart shook off its lust-induced slow beat, favouring a fast hopscotch instead. This was it. I’m getting married.

Q murmured, “I’m holding the woman I’m about to marry, so yes, you may begin.”

Q’s eyes never left mine. Our spirits reached out, interlinking, forming a private bubble where the world could be seen but nothing could touch us. He spun the wing circlet around my wedding finger. “You’ll never walk again without me by your side, esclave.”

My heart stole all the blood in my body, swelling with aching love.

The celebrant clasped his hands in front of him. “Fantastic. Let’s start.” Looking past us, he grinned at the groomsmen and bridesmaids. I ignored them in my peripheral vision, giving my full attention to my master.

It was just him and me.

As it had always been and always would be.

“Welcome, everyone, to the joining of Tess Olivia Snow and Quincy Mercer II. I will say thank you on behalf of the bride and groom for travelling to this sun-blessed country and gracing your good fortune to ensure this marriage is full of richness, happiness, and love.”

The celebrant lowered his voice. “I can either give you vows to repeat after me—or if you prefer, you can dedicate your own vows to each other. Either will be binding and sanctified by me.”

My stomach leapt into my mouth. Vows! What with the whirlwind crescent moon and Q’s torture, I hadn’t had time to write heartfelt promises or pledges. My eyes flared wide. I’ve ruined it before it’s begun. I should’ve known. I should’ve planned.

“I’d like to say our own,” Q murmured. “However, I want you to go first, Tess.” Authority rang in his voice; the room swam with panic.

I clutched his fingers. “Q, I can’t. I don’t know what to say. I have so much—so much that I want to get right. I’m…” My eyes searched his. “I’m unprepared. I don’t want to say something wron—”

“You’re overthinking it. Just—”

“But what if I say something terrible? I’ve never been to a wedding or know what needs to be sworn. I’ll screw up. Our marriage will be a sham.” My spine tickled with tears, the damn corset squeezed my ribs like a vice.

Q cupped my cheek, bringing me closer in a rustle of silk. His mouth rested on my ear, granting me strength. “I’m just as nervous as you are.” Guiding my hand, he placed it over his heart. The rapidly thudding muscle, that’d been through so much, thrummed beneath my fingers in a rugged tattoo. “See. I’m terrified. But I want to know what’s in your heart. Dare, Tess. I dare you to tell me everything.”

Having his life-force beat beneath my fingertips tempered my panic. I laughed quietly. “You’re daring me to say things I have no idea how to articulate.” I had no idea what the correct etiquette was. What was forbidden to discuss—what was permitted. “I don’t know what to say, Q.”

He pressed a whisper-soft kiss on my ear. “Just say what’s in your soul. That’s all I’m going to do. Nothing you feel can be wrong, esclave. Trust it.”

I sucked in a gulp of air, dragging his incredible aftershave into my lungs. Thoughts raced through my head. The truth—that’s where the horror lay.

Memoires swarmed thick and fast.

“I’d kill for you, Tess. I have killed for you.” The day in Q’s office—the morning I was stolen.