participated in, that I wanted to seethe from the inside out.
It was as if she was reminding me by claiming him, as she said from this moment on.
And our moment was yesterday.
She was saying it would never happen again.
Had she shot me, it would have hurt less.
I knew this was my doing. I was the one who told her to marry him. I had rejected her. What else did I expect? I was being irrational, and knowing that I was didn’t stop the emotions that were surging to not come.
“Tristian?” The priest grinned over at my brother.
Tristian reached up and pressed his palm directly over the bruises on her wrist, then lifted that same wrist to his mouth and pressed a gentle kiss across my mark.
Across my claim.
Motherfucker.
CHAPTER TEN
“Be the hero, they will notice the bad. Be the villain, they will notice your good.” —Joker
Romeo
His gesture may have been subtle to the room full of people in attendance, but I knew better.
Did he know?
Assume?
“From this day forth,” Tristian kissed the bruising again and then flipped her hand over, bringing it to his face, cupping his cheek. “I will always be yours. Forsaking family, forsaking all others, you own me, body, mind, and soul.”
My breath hitched as she smiled up at him like she was seeing him for the first time, her eyes filled with tears, her hand pressed against his face.
She mouthed, “I love you,” sufficiently killing something in the depths of my soul as he mouthed it back.
I had to look away.
I had no choice.
She was killing me.
This was killing me.
Their love.
Their holy union.
Their fucking matrimony.
It was all dragging me to the ground, burying me alive.
The priest kept talking, and I found I couldn’t tear my focus away from her wrist or the way she would rub it self-consciously like she could rub the sin away.
The mistake.
The regret.
The memory.
Me.
“I now pronounce you, Mr. and Mrs. Tristian Sinacore.” The old priest beamed. “You may now kiss your bride!”
Tristian wasted no time in pulling Eden into his arms; his mouth slammed down onto hers with near violence as she parted her lips and welcomed him into her.
Just like she would tonight.
Just like she’d done to me last night.
He’d be inside her.
He’d be pleasuring her.
Would she scream his name while dreaming of mine? Or was this really the end? Part of me needed it to be the end, while another sinister part said it was just the beginning of my obsession with her need.
I kept my eyes trained on the happy couple, my hands folded behind my back, my smile frozen on my face as Tristian pulled away, only to change his mind and press another kiss to her mouth; he lingered there in that sensual space that existed after two mouths meet and decide they want to do it again only to tease one another with each breath before one of them leans in once more.
“I love you,” he whispered.
Her eyes lit up with joy. “I love you too.”
He lifted her into his arms, facing the congregation amidst cheers, whistling, and then walked down the aisle while she laughed.
I clenched my teeth and followed the rest of the wedding party out, careful to keep a slight smile of amusement teasing my lips when, in reality, I wanted to die inside.
I couldn’t decide which one of us had given the final blow that destroyed whatever was left between us.
Was it when they kissed?
Was it when he touched her bruises?
Was it when she told him she loved him?
Or was it the night before when I told her I didn’t love her?
I’d been a bystander to my own death and destruction, and the pain was still burning alive inside me, threatening to spill over into a war of chaos where my white flag was up.
I surrendered.
Gave up.
Game over.
No do-overs.
No second chances.
No love for me.
Not in this life.
With a curse, I left the church lobby and went into one of the Sunday school rooms. I’d left my Glock hidden so I wouldn’t have to explain to the priest why I was packing next to the communion table. It was one of the first times in years where I’d actually chosen not to wear my gun.
I knew it bothered Eden.
I could keep her safe without a gun.
It was her wedding day.
So even though she didn’t know, I did, and that made all the difference, or it had.
“Knock, knock.” Tristian rapt his knuckles against the wood door, then crossed his arms. “You feeling okay?”
“Course.” I snapped out