Page 95 of His Bride

And, my God, she never looked hotter.

I’m a sick puppy. Demented. Certifiable. Awesome.

I tighten my arm around her as she leans against me in the back seat of the car. I breathe deeply, the scent of her hair mingling with the stench of blood. It's intoxicating and revolting at the same time, a heady cocktail that sends my senses spiraling because, underneath it all, it’s her. Giana.

MyGiana.

“I know I’m about to ask this for the seven-hundred-and-fiftieth time, but are you okay?”

She moves, sits up a little, and looks at me. “I’m fine.” There’s a flash of something in her eyes. “I’m actually, really fine. I mean, I feel this…rush. Is that normal? Should I worry?”

I smirk, touching her face and rubbing a smear of blood from her cheek. “The only thing you should worry about is the fact that you gave me a giant hardon when you forced that glass deeper into his skull. I swear, you’ve never looked hotter.”

“Caelian. Be serious.”

“I am. Good Lord, I am dead fucking serious. If Nicoli weren’t there, I would have fucked you right next to his corpse. Have a little rerun of our bloody rendezvous in New York. Remember that?”

“How can I forget?”

I stare dreamily over her shoulder. “One of our finest moments.”

She chuckles softly, her laugh a balm to the gnawing discomfort that’s been living in my gut since the ordeal began. “You have a twisted sense of romance, Caelian. I don't think most people find the sight of blood and murder particularly erotic.”

“Lucky for us, we’re not boring people.”

She tilts her head, studying my face with those brilliant sapphire eyes I've come to worship. “You were right.”

“I’m right about everything, so you need to be more specific.”

“My father,” she says simply. “You were right.”

I brush a finger through her hair, caked with blood. “It’s funny. I thought it would feel fucking awesome to hear you admit that, but somehow, it feels—I dunno—not great. I’m sorry, New York.”

“Don’t be. I should have trusted you.”

“Yeah, you should have.” I shoot her a cocky grin. “Lucky for you, I’m willing to give you another chance. But groveling is required.”

She groans. “The things I put up with.”

“It’s all part of my charm, love.”

“Charm?” Her incredulous snort fills the car. “That's one way to describe it.”

“I’m not sure I like your tone. It's almost like you're not seeing my brilliance.”

“Oh, I see it. It’s blinding, like staring into the sun, or a spotlight hog.”

“Hog? I preferleading man,thank you. But don’t worry,” I lean in close, fingers caressing her neck, “I’ll save you a seat next to me on my pedestal.”

“How generous of you. Truly, I’m honored to bask in your modesty.”

“It’s tough, being this humble. You’re lucky I let you stick around.”

“Lucky, huh? That’s one word for it. I was thinking more cursed,” she mutters, rolling her eyes for emphasis.

I place a kiss on the corner of her mouth. “You say ‘cursed,’ but your eyes say, ‘take me now, you irresistible god.’”

“Must be the lightheadedness from rolling my eyes so hard.”

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