Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
“Ex, you can fuck. All. The. Way. Off.”
“Don’t make me slap your ass again,” Meridian said casually. “He’s coming. Just shut up, stand here, and wait.”
A throat cleared to his left. “Let’s try to stay civil, gentlemen.”
“Sorry, Rev,” Ex said, still laughing.
Meridian had gotten Reverend Miller from Gage’s church to agree to officiate the ceremony.
Scar didn’t want to know how he’d convinced a man of God to marry two men who didn’t exist, but Meridian wasn’t told no, by anyone, ever.
Scar glanced around again. “Do you think he’ll like the room?”
“Yes,” Meridian sighed.
“Is it too over the top?”
“Yes,” he sighed louder.
“Are the smells too strong?”
“Yes.”
Scar kept going, despite Meridian’s low growl.
“Do you think there’s too many lanterns?”
“Yes.”
“Is my neck still splotchy?”
“Yes.”
“Dammit.”
Meridian rolled his eyes.
“How’s my breath?” Scar opened his mouth wide and exhaled a long haaah in Meridian’s face.
Meridian closed his eyes as if he were hanging on by a thread, teeth clenched. “Do that shit again, and I’ll chop you in your fuckin’ throat. And yes, your breath is fine.”
Scar ignored the way everyone was staring at them. They should be used to his and the Blacks’ antics by now.
The guest list had started relatively short, but as the days went on, more and more people stopped him and begged him to be able to come.
Now three-fourths of the headquarters personnel were there, filling the edges of the courtyard and waiting for him and Gage to apparently make Raven history.
Elias and his crew from wardrobe rushed to their seats, smiling like idiots—meaning Gage was about to enter.
Another two minutes passed.
Just when he thought he couldn’t stand still another second, Gage turned the corner, lightly holding the back of Roz’s elbow.
Mirage and Zorion flanked him, dressed like their partners, moving with the same disciplined composure that made them so formidable.
Scar’s knees nearly buckled.
A wave of startled breaths, low murmurs, and gasps rippled through the courtyard.
If it wasn’t for Meridian’s strong palm on his shoulder, he might’ve passed out.
Gage was hooded, draped in a flowing silky jacket that glided with his every step. His cane was folded and gripped in his right hand, not an accessory or a crutch, just a part of him.
The lights fell on him perfectly, drawing attention to the 24-karat cross suspended from the diamond tennis chain around his neck.
A light wind cut through the atrium and lifted the back of his jacket, making him look like…like…exactly what he was.
A saint.
Halfway down the stone path, he released Roz’s arm and walked on his own with the confidence of a man who knew his own power.
Gage followed the curves to the end, stopping right in front of him with unerring precision, sensing exactly where he was supposed to stand.
Gage pulled back his hood slowly and tipped his face up toward him.
“You smell amazing,” he whispered. “I can pick you out of a room of a hundred men every time.”
Scar finally exhaled. “Damn. You look…you’re so…you…”
Gage smiled, lighting up Scar’s world. “I’m what?”
Scar shook his head. He had no words. He leaned into Gage’s ear and whispered, rough and honest.
“You just are.”
White Ravens
Gage
The ceremony was short and simple, but love and sincerity filled every minute. Performed just as Scar said, within their community, witnessed and affirmed by their family and peers.
The reception was held inside the atrium.
They ate at the head of a long table with the rest of the Ravens while everyone else sat at tables positioned throughout the room.
The chefs outdid themselves. Even Scar was surprised by how much they’d added to his menu.
With full stomachs and an open bar, people were gathered in the courtyard in loose clusters, talking, laughing, and enjoying.
The place had never felt like this—carefree, fun, almost normal. It was a break from the crime, hard rules, and scary world they vowed to defend, so everyone was taking advantage.
Gage was relaxing outside on an oversized lounge chair— with his brothers, their handlers, and a few members of their teams—around a wide marble table with a lava-rock smokeless firepit in the center.
He shared the chair with his husband, leaning into him with his back to his chest. Scar had one arm over his shoulder and the other snaked around his waist.
Scar’s scent hit him each time he inhaled, that fresh shave scent, clean cologne, layered with a hint of danger. A heady combination making his stomach flutter and his cock stay half-hard the entire evening.
Ex was ribbing the hell out of Scar, telling everyone how badly he was freaking out all week. And his ridiculous instructions.
“I need more flowers, the fragrances gotta pop! And get some birds in here to be tweeting and singing or some shit,” Ex mocked in Scar’s deep voice.
Gage laughed along with the other bystanders.
The caged blue jays and robins sounded beautiful. He thought the Greens orchestrated that.
His husband had built this whole night around him. The flowers, the scents, the fountain, lantern oils, wide-open space…the birds.