Eli grins and shoves Noah’s arm off me. “Now we honeymoon. For a long time. Alone.”
Noah’s brow furrows. “I was afraid of that.”
I laugh and lay my head against his chest. “You’re overwhelming, Miles,” I say. “It’s almost like I have two husbands.”
When I glance at Noah, his eyes are twinkling.
“Don’t even think it,” Eli warns.
“He kissed me before we came here today,” I tattle.
“She kissed me back,” Noah adds.
“But I get to take her home,” Eli says, looking down at me. “Now?”
“No, not now, silly boy,” Eli’s mother, Elise, says at his elbow. She kisses me and hugs her son. “We’ve got a huge reception planned. You’ve got to go to that first.”
“That’s right,” Nyx says at my other side. Luc is beside her, and Phin won’t stop staring at me, grinning. Their youngest sibling, Josie, is holding Seth’s hand.
“How long will you guys be gone?” Josie asks me. “I haven’t hardly been able to catch up with you, Ri.”
“I know,” I answer, then look at her brother.
My husband.
“Two weeks, shorty,” Eli tells his sister. “Then I’ll share.”
“Can I have your word on that?” Phin asks, grinning. “My new sister here is supposed to ink me when you get home.”
“Phin’s letting me design it, too,” Josie says. “Wait till you see it!”
“My new daughter,” Gilles says, stepping close and hugging his wife. “You’re simply stunning, chère.” He lifts my hand and kisses it, and I’m briefly reminded of the first time I met him. It brings a smile to my face. He grins in return. “I’m ever so glad to have you and Seth in our little family.”
“I am, too,” I say, smiling.
“Let’s eat!” Seth cries. “I’m starving!”
The whole party moves to the Dupré family home for a reception. Eli and I do all of the traditional things a wedding party does: cut the cake, sans squashing it in each other’s faces; the toast. The throwing of the bouquet, and the flinging of the garter, which Phin catches with a grin. A photographer who’s been taking pictures the whole time smiles to herself, apparently proud of her work.
I’m just glad vampires really can be seen in photos.
Rhine and his band play, and we dance. We eat. We party. I share a dance with, God Almighty, everyone. Rhine, Noah, Victorian, Gabriel, Lucian, Jake, Tristan, Gawan. Jason, and every single one of the Dragonhawk knights. Gilles, Preacher, and Garr. By the time I’ve danced with the last of my Gullah family, I am thinking I will pass out.
Luckily, Preacher had slipped me a little root doctor concoction before my wedding, to prevent me from falling out in a narcoleptic coma. Jesus, that would’ve been a disaster. Me. Asleep. On my wedding night. As it is, I’m wide awake. Anxious. Elated.
Filled to the rim with a joy I can’t even begin to explain.
More hugging, more kissing, and more memories are made. I truly am a lucky girl.
“If we don’t get out of here within the next five minutes I’m going to maul you here in front of everyone,” Eli whispers into my ear. I look at him, and his eyes shine. “I mean it.”
I grin.
I believe him. “Well, let’s go, Mr. Dupré.”
Eli grins. “As you wish, Mrs. Dupré.”
Yes. We’re that annoying couple who relishes calling each other by their newly married name. I love it. I can’t say it enough.
“This way,” Noah suddenly says at my shoulder. He grins down at me. “I must love the hell out of you both. Assisting in your honeymoon getaway.” He shakes his head. “What have I become?”
“The best friend a man could ask for,” Eli says, and hugs him. “Lead the way, my good man.”
We weave through the back of the house, and outside, Eli’s Silverback awaits. Cans and streamers sill hang behind it. Noah helps me onto the back.
“I’ll take care of everything until you get back,” he tells Eli. Then leans over and kisses me. “I love you, Mrs. Dupré. See ya.”
“Love you, too, Mr. Miles.”
Noah grins and waves us away.
I hold on to Eli’s waist, and I have absolutely no idea where we’re going. He told no one—except Rhine and the band, who’d helped him get whatever he’s gotten ready ready. He pulls the Silverback up to the landing on River Street and helps me off. Wordlessly, he takes me down to the dock and helps me onto a small boat. Without saying one word, he pulls me against him and starts the engine. We take off into the harbor.
A half hour later, and ahead, through the darkness, one of the small barrier islands is awash in moonlight. On the beach, a fire flickers. Eli runs the boat up onto the sand, jumps out, and lifts me up. He carries me to a lean-to, sits me on my feet.
Not any old run-of-the-mill lean-to.
Our wedding night lean-to. He steps through the gauzy white material of a doorway and looks back at me.
In his eyes shine possession, fierce longing, and something way deeper than I’ve ever seen before in those blue depths. “Come in here,” he says, and grasps my hand, pulls me inside. I follow.
His eyes are trained on mine. “Stand still.”
I do as he says.
Slowly, Eli’s deft fingers move over my skin to the tiny buttons at the lower back of my gown. Loosening each one, he pushes my gown off my shoulders, his lips falling against my skin. My eyes close as his fingers trail down each hip, and he helps me step out of my dress. He removes my shoes. When he stands, I take off his tux jacket. Push his suspenders off his shoulders. Unbutton his shirt. When my hands move to his belt, air hisses from his lips. I slowly push his slacks over his muscular hips, and I’m not surprised to see he’s gone to his wedding commando-style. He grins, kicks off his socks and shoes, and scoops me up and lowers his head. Full lips brush over mine, and he kisses me until we reach the massive pallet of quilts thrown together for our wedding bed. He follows me down.
My body involuntarily shakes.
He comes to me then, close; his body brushes mine, his fingers ease over my bare shoulders, across my collarbone, down the front where my strapless bra clasps between my breasts. He releases it, eases it down, and I wince. With a gentleness that no longer surprises me, he pushes the silky material off my body and drops it to the ground.
Inside, I’m dying.
“I know, baby,” he says, reading my mind. He slips his fingers through the waistband of my panties and eases them off. “I’m going to fix that.”
My heart leaps.
“Close your eyes,” he whispers. I do.
Eli’s mouth moves over my skin, tasting erotic samples of each rib, over my abdomen, each breast. I can feel the heat building inside me. It’s been so long. I reach for him.
“No, don’t do that,” he whispers. “Stay with me, Riley.”
I sigh. “I’m trying.”
His seductive mouth against my skin makes my nerves leap. “Try harder.”
Eli’s hands glide over my shoulders, down my arms, intertwine his fingers with mine, and draw me close. His hard body presses close to me; his lips seek the top of my shoulder, my throat, my ear, my jaw, and slide to my mouth. In a slow, erotic kiss, his tongue grazes mine, his teeth scrape my lips and capture the bottom one, and he suckles gently.
Inside, I grow heavy with desire; my knees weaken, and I lift my hips; his breath catches in his throat; he captures my hands in his hands and lowers them.
“Not yet, Riley,” he says, his voice strained, his French accent thick. I move my hands to his chest, trail the muscles there, his breath brushing against my ear. “You touch me, I explode. Just . . . be still.”
“Then don’t kiss me like that,” I insist.
I feel his smile against my skin. “No promises there.”
I sigh.
“Turn around,” he says against my cheek.