Page 92 of Damascus & The Wildfire
“I’m completely serious,” I growled.
Kenna sucked in a sharp breath as I turned to stalk toward her.
“Goodbye, Merci,” I said, not bothering to look at my sister and not caring whether she was out the door by the time I got to Kenna. “I know you have wedding planner shit to do. And I have an hour and a half before I need to go. So, I’m going to take you upstairs, and by the time I leave, you’ll have agreed to marry me.”
“Merrick,” she said in exasperation.
I needed her to know I meant every damn word. I threw her over my shoulder, and she shrieked as I carried her up the stairs.
“Put me down. You can’t just manhandle me into marrying you.”
Despite her protests, I could hear the smile in her voice. She laughed breathlessly as I tossed her into the middle of the bed.
I slid the straps of the sundress down her shoulders. I kissed her throat, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what I really wanted from her. An answer.
“Stay here,” I commanded, pressing a kiss to her forehead before rolling off the bed. I crossed to the dresser and rustled through a drawer to find the velvet box.
She sat up, swinging her legs over the side.
I knelt beside the bed and took her hand. Her eyes widened at the sight of the ring box. She stared at the shimmering oval-cut sunstone inset on a gold band. The fiery orange and yellow gem reminded me of her radiant strength and fierce spirit.
“Marry me, Wildfire.”
She leapt forward, wrapping her arms around my neck and knocking me back to the ground. With her legs straddling my hips, she pulled the ring from the box and held it up in the morning light.
“This is beautiful. How long have you been holding onto this?”
“I ordered it a week after you moved in.”
“What?”
“I’ve always known you were the one. You insisted on waitinguntil we were settled, though, so I’ve held onto it. I don’t want to wait anymore. I love you.”
“I don’t want to wait either. But, after planning someone else’s wedding, I want to elope. Just us.”
“Whatever you want, as long as you’re mine.”
The bride and groom said their vows beneath a magnolia tree in full bloom, and a makeshift dance floor had been built over the spot where Kenna planned to plant a garden next spring.
Lights strung from trees hung above us, casting a warm, honey haze on Kenna’s floor-length champagne lace bridesmaid dress. Our family—the Lone Star Mavericks Motorcycle Club—milled about the yard, while Hawk and Brisket trailed behind guests, angling for treats.
“Show it to me,” Hatchet said, sliding between me and Kenna as he slung an arm over each of our shoulders.
“What?” Kenna asked innocently.
“The ring. I can’t believe Merci had to be the one to tell me this asshole finally proposed. I’m wounded.”
Kenna rolled her eyes. “It’s upstairs. Besides, it wasn’t a real proposal.”
“What do you mean it wasn’t a real proposal?” I growled, shrugging off Hatchet’s arm to face Kenna. “I asked you to marry me, I gave you a ring, and you agreed. And hands off my fiancée, Hatchet.”
Hatchet chuckled as I tugged Kenna closer.
“You asked as you were trying to paw off my clothes. It’s not exactly a story I can tell. We don’t need to announce it tonight. This isn’t our day. Let them have the spotlight.”
Hatchet shoved Kenna’s shoulder gently. “Tonight is about family and love. You’re family, and you’re in love. Go upstairs and put that ring on so we can toast,” he demanded. “If you don’t, I’ll tell everyone about your proposal, in detail, during my speech.”
“You wouldn’t.”
