Demon Hunting with a Dixie Deb - Lexi George Page 0,117

to him, raining kisses upon her face, her lips and throat.

Kehvahn wandered back with the bird on one arm. The creature’s long feathers cascaded to the floor.

“You have your answer?” Kehvahn asked.

Grim tucked Sassy under one arm. “She said yes, Great One.”

“Excellent.” Kehvahn stroked the bird’s snowy feathers. “Shall we get on with it, then?”

Sassy and Grim were married on the bank of the grotto pool under a trellis fragrant with wisteria, honeysuckle, and white clematis.

She didn’t get married in her birthday suit after all, or in a bed sheet. She wore an ivory A-line gown—totally flattering for the petite frame—with a fitted waist, barely-there sleeves, and a waterfall of delicate crystals down the open back. Designed and made by Grim, using his Dalvahni magic.

Pale pink and green roses were tucked into the flowing train, along with wisps of vermilion moss, baby’s breath, and silver lichen. She wore her hair loose and up, and let the curls fall where they would. She was gloriously happy and excited, and her tresses reflected her giddy emotions, sparkling and shimmering like pixie dust.

Grim was resplendent in full warrior regalia. A short-sleeved brown leather jerkin with metal workings covered his powerful upper body and bulging arms to the elbow. The hem of the garment brushed the top of his thighs. Beneath the leather jerkin he wore a white padded gambeson shirt with slashed sleeves and intricate string design. His muscular legs were clad in fitted black breeches. On his feet he wore high black leather boots, laced to the knees. Grim’s long cinnamon hair, clubbed at the nape of his neck and tied in place with a piece of leather, shone in the morning light. Strapped around his lean waist was a brown leather belt, and attached to the belt was his sword.

The archway framed the rush of water that tumbled down the cliff face and the two trees embracing at the top. The sounds of the forest, the sigh of the wind, and the splash of the waterfall were their only music. Sassy and Grim processed, hand in hand, out of their forest bower and joined Kehvahn at the mossy water’s edge. To one side of the arbor was an enormous leather-bound book on a stand. The tome lay open, its pages etched with the spidery characters and symbols of a language Sassy did not recognize. A bronze quill rested in the crease between the pages.

“Behold the Great Book,” Kehvahn said to Sassy. “Herein lies the history of the Dalvahni race along with the name of every Dalvahni warrior sworn to service. Of late, a few Dalvahni have taken mates. Their names have been added to the book as well. By signing your name in our sacred text beside Grim’s, you bind yourself to him, Sassy Peterson, as he will be bound to you. Is this your desire?”

“Oh, yes,” Sassy said. “Yes, yes, yes.”

She lifted the bronze quill and wrote her name on the parchment. The letters sizzled and burned away, leaving her signature ablaze on the page.

Grim’s hand closed around hers. “Perfect, my love, but with one addition.”

Guiding her hand, he added Dalvahni to the end of her name, then signed his name beside hers. A bell rang in the distance. Raising his hand, the god of the Dalvahni blessed them in his mild, abstracted way.

“There.” Kehvahn lowered his hand. “My benediction is not needed, strictly speaking, once you have signed the book. But it adds a flair of the dramatic, don’t you think? Especially for the others.”

“Others?” Sassy asked.

Grim pulled her into his arms. “We are not alone,” he murmured against her cheek. “My brothers have come to bear witness to our union.”

Sassy turned, her eyes widening. “Mother-of-pearl.”

Their sanctuary of the past few days had vanished, and they stood in a woodland hall awash with a host of Dalvahni warriors. Big, gorgeous, and bristling with weaponry, they made an imposing sight.

Conall stood at the forefront. At his side was Duncan, he of the sun-streaked hair and laughing eyes.

Color rode Grim’s cheekbones. His arms tightened around Sassy. “Greetings, brothers. You honor us with your presence.”

“The honor is ours, brother.” Conall drew his sword. “Warriors, salute.”

As one, the Dalvahni lifted their weapons with a mighty roar.

Conall smiled—he actually smiled at Sassy as the throng of burly warriors surrounded the newlyweds.

“Welcome to the family, Sassy,” the captain of the Dalvahni said. “Like it or not, you now have nigh unto two hundred big brothers—stubborn, opinionated, fiercely overprotective big brothers. We take care of our