Page 142 of Sadistic

We run through a tunnel of sparklers—someone's idea of tradition—to the waiting car.

In the backseat, Revna collapses against me. "We did it."

"We did."

"What happens now?"

"Now," I pull her closer, "we figure out how to be married."

"That's terrifyingly vague."

"Would you prefer a detailed plan?"

"From you? God no. Your plans involve surveillance strategies and decisions you don’t want to include me on."

"Former plans," I correct. "I'm turning over a new leaf."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

The car pulls up to the private air strip that’s taking us to Key West for a light, calm honeymoon.

"No regrets?" I ask as we head inside the plane.

"Ask me in the morning," she says again.

But she takes my hand, fingers interlacing with mine, and I have my answer.

Whatever comes next, we'll face it together, for better or worse.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Revna

I wake to the feeling of being watched.

Not the creepy, invasive kind—though I should probably be concerned that I can now differentiate types of watching.

Sunlight streams through the honeymoon suite's floor-to-ceiling windows, painting golden stripes across Egyptian cotton sheets that probably cost more than my monthly rent.

Former rent, because I'm married now.

Doran sits propped against the headboard, coffee in hand, studying me with those intense eyes.

He's shirtless, sheet pooled at his waist, looking like every dangerous fantasy I've ever had.

"Morning," I mumble into the pillow.

"Afternoon, actually." He sets his coffee on the nightstand. "You slept like the dead."

"Wonder why." I stretch, feeling deliciously sore in all the right places. "Someone kept me up half the night."

"Someone's wife was very demanding."

The word 'wife' sends a thrill I didn’t expect through me. "How long have you been awake?"

"A few hours." He traces patterns on my bare shoulder. "Couldn't sleep. Too much to think about."

"Like?"

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