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 pussy 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.

“Ah, esclave, this wasn’t supposed to happen.” The evening he’d found me raped by Lefebvre.

“There is pain in intimacy. Let me make your pain my pleasure.” The shower where he replaced himself with the horrible incident.

“You’ll do this or I’ll kill you—do you understand?” The day he forced me to hurt him—all in the name of bringing me back.

I thought about his temper. His violence. His ruthlessness.

I thought about his compassion. His love for birds. His selfless acts of saving women.

So many things to say. So many things that would be forever treasured.

Speak from your heart.