Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
VIDAR
The taste of her was a viscous heat on my tongue. A cocktail of dark roses with more thorns than petals. A copper tang of defiance.
My skin felt too tight for my frame as I stood at the head of the Great Hall, watching the servants lay out the first course of the wedding feast. The hell I was waiting days for a fertility cycle. The fuck I was waiting for her to find her tongue and ask.
I would take her tonight.
Perhaps before the moon was even full.
Maybe before the meat was put on my plate.
I wanted to bury myself in that red silk until the world went quiet.
I looked down at her hand, trapped in mine.
The diamond I’d placed there was a boulder, a flashing beacon of Blackwood wealth.
It wasn't enough. It was a human marker.
I wanted something deeper. I wanted to sink my teeth into the curve of her shoulder and leave a mark that would never fade, a brand that would scream to every wolf and human from here to the Atlantic that this woman was claimed.
"Sit, Vidar." My father did nothing to hide the humorous glint in his eyes. "Eat."
I pulled out Addie’s chair, my hand lingering on the bare skin of her arm. She shivered; a delicious ripple of awareness that told me she was as off-balance as I was.
As she reached for her silver fork, I moved. My hand clamped over hers. I pried the cutlery from her fingers and set it aside. Reaching for the platter of thinly sliced venison, I selected a piece that was perfectly marbled and barely seared. I held it to her lips.
She stared at me, her eyes flashing with a spark of emerald defiance. She didn't open her mouth. She sat there like a statue, her chin tilted up in that stubborn Vane pride.
She wasn't a Vane any longer. She was mine.
I simply waited, my gaze locked onto hers. The silence between us grew thick and heavy.
I could see the gears turning in her head; the human arguing about decorum, about independence, about the absurdity of being fed like a pet. Beneath that, I could see her wolf. The animal understood the ritual. It was the ancient dance of the provider and the protected.
Slowly, her lips parted. She took the first bite from my fingers. Her teeth grazed my skin with a ghost of a nip that sent a jolt of heat straight to my dick.
I continued, picking out only the choicest bits of meat, the tenderest morsels.
I fed her patiently, watching the way she chewed, the way her throat moved as she swallowed.
Her gaze remained fixed on mine, a silent war of wills playing out over the appetizers.
The human was still scoffing, still pretending to be outraged, but the wolf was leaning in.
Her animal was accepting the mark of my care, the tangible proof that I would never let her know hunger.
I caught Elias watching us from across the table, his expression a jagged map of conflict.
His knuckles were white where he gripped the edge of the mahogany; his face was torn between a brother’s instinct to protect and the sheer, overwhelming power of the room he was sitting in.
He clearly wanted to rescue her, his eyes darting toward the exits as if he were calculating a path that didn't exist.
He didn't understand that the cavalry was already here.
He didn't see that Addie was safest right where she was: under my hand, in my house.
They were both safe now, anchored to a bedrock of strength their father could never provide.
All they had to do was let go of the old ghosts and transfer that fierce, desperate loyalty they had for one another to this pack.
Once they did that, the rest of the world would be at their feet.
We had barely touched the main course when the heavy oak doors of the hall swung open. Huxley, one of our lead enforcers, stood in the threshold. He was flushed, his chest heaving as if he’d run the perimeter in record time. Fenrir’s fork hit the china with a sharp clack.
"This is a private family affair. Whatever it is, handle it."
"I can't, Alpha," Huxley rasped, his eyes darting toward Magnus and then to me. "There’s been a disruption at the Jersey border. The Ironwood pack…"
Huxley's gaze darted around the table, landing on my new wife and brother-in-law.
"Speak plainly," Magnus offered. "There's only family in here."
"They’ve mobilized. They hit the southern warehouse and took out two of our sentries. They’re making a move."
Magnus was on his feet before the last sentence was finished. I felt my own wolf surge, the blood-lust of the pack defense over-riding the need for the wedding bed. The Ironwoods were over-leveraged and desperate. I’d expected a hiss, not a bite.
"Ivar, stay," Fenrir commanded as the youngest Blackwood started to rise, his face alight with a reckless, youthful hunger.
"Dad, I can help."
"You’ll stay and guard the house," Magnus barked, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Ivar slumped back into his seat, his jaw set in a frustrated pout.
"You," I said, pointing a finger at my new brother-in-law. "You’re coming with us."
Elias blanched, his gaze flickering toward my father. "Me?"
"I need you to find the shell companies they're using to pivot their remaining assets. If we can freeze those accounts while the enforcers hit their physical perimeter, we’ll bankrupt them by sunrise."
"I —okay. I can do that." Elias rose from his chair.
"I'll come too." Addie was on her feet, the red silk of her dress shimmering like a warning in the candlelight.
"Sit down."
"If you’re going after their offshore pivots, you can use me. I worked in corporate and can—"
"No," I said, the word final and absolute. "Stay inside. Do not leave the property until I return."
She looked at me, her emerald eyes wide and searching. I didn't have time for an argument. I reached out, threading my fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck. I pulled her into a hard, brief kiss. It wasn't the ceremony’s slow burn; it was a brand, a reminder of the claim I’d just staked.
Addie didn't melt. She snapped.
Her teeth sank into my bottom lip. The skin broke. The hot, metallic bloom of my own blood flooded my mouth. I pulled back just an inch, my thumb wiping a crimson smear across my chin.
I didn't growl. I grinned. "I’ll make you pay for that when I get back, sweet Addie."
"Then I hope you're as good at debt collection as you think you are.
Because if the Ironwoods keep an offshore sweep in a tax-haven sub-folder, like the ones I spent three years auditing, you might miss the secondary encryption.
Then you won't just be bleeding from your lip, you’ll be bleeding out of your brokerage accounts while your brawn is busy barking at the wrong door. "
The insult stung worse than the bite. It was a beautiful, calculated jab at the one thing I prized above my strength: my intellect.
She was so fucking cute.
I laughed, a sharp bark of genuine amusement, even as my blood continued to stain my chin.
Letting my wife go, I headed for the door, falling in line with my brothers like shadows of a coming storm.
I left my bride standing in the center of the hall, a splash of red against the dark wood, her eyes burning with a fury I knew I’d have to answer for—or reward—before the night was through.
I knew I could fuck her into submission. There was no doubt of that. Afterwards, maybe I'd show her my spreadsheets when I was done with her between the sheets.