Chapter 21 – Markos
I pounded on the door. Dark thoughts and even darker emotions swirled through me like a category five. Tonight had been a series of explosions, each building on the last with terrible aftershocks. This next act was going to be a cataclysmic destruction.
Part of me wanted to stop. To take time for damage control. But we were already here.
I banged again, ready to tear the damn door open.
Father Georgios stumbled down the steps, cursing as he unlocked and opened. “My son, do you have any idea what time it is?”
I glared at the man. Granted, years and years ago, he was the one who’d dared spank me for goofing off during lesson time. He was wiser now, but he still had the balls to stand up to me. “I pay you to be available at all hours, presbyteros.”
He glowered at me from under a bushy, grizzled brow. But the next moment, his gaze slid past me to Serena, who, by the sound of it, was hopping out of the Jeep.
“What did you do?” the man of God snarled.
“Bless us, Father, for we are about to be wed,” I said coldly.
Georgios looked to the ceiling and let out an exasperated breath. “I bless thee, my son. Now get off my porch.”
“I don’t think you understand,” I began.
“We’re kind of in a rush,” Serena snapped. “Can you do this quickly, Dominus?”
A flicker of surprise rushed through my mind at the language. First Italian, now Latin? What other secrets was my little goddess hiding?
“You know who he is?” Georgios stabbed a finger at me.
The itch to break the digit was strong. A quick pop, and he would need to wear a cast for the next few weeks. I fisted my hand at my side.
“Yep, a sea monster who’s taken an interest in the fair land maiden and wants to bind her to his watery kingdom,” she drawled sarcastically.
“He’s in the—”
“I dare you to finish that, presbyteros.” I took a step forward, keenly aware how the light fell on my features. Although she was behind me, Serena no doubt saw my scars. The vicious reminder of who I was.
A sea monster—how fucking fitting.
I ground my molars and tipped my head to the side to crack my neck.
It didn’t relieve the tension. Once we were married, she would find it harder to run away, to run back to.
..him. The tabloid model with a generous handful of zeroes behind his net worth.
The rich fucker who dominated the business center of the Midwest. Leonard Baldwin had his fingers in everything.
There were even rumors that he was connected to shadier business dealings, but those were unfounded, and anyone asking the questions found themselves suddenly retired.
Anatole had sent even more information to my phone, stuff I would have to read later, no matter how painful.
To understand Serena’s feelings, I would have to dig into her past.
“We’re getting married. Tonight,” Serena insisted.
“Of your own free will?” Georgios was pushing buttons, trusting in his authority to keep me from exploding.
It was a dance with a fucking ticking bomb.
“Yes, of my own free will,” Serena snapped. “I would rather die than do anything I didn’t want.”
Her words should have sent a surge of triumph through me. Instead, I only felt cold, queasy dread at her declaration.
“Go to the west chapel. I’ll join you two in a minute,” presbyteros grumbled.
I turned and ducked back into the darkness of the porch.
We would have the ceremony, and then I would drive Serena home.
She wouldn’t have to face me tonight. I would give her space.
What was another night sleeping under the stars?
Sex was going to stay off the table until she gave in; that I would not force from her.
Kisses, I would steal. Her maiden name I would lay to rest. And her life I would bind to my village.
But there were lines even devils like me wouldn’t cross.
Upon entering the sanctuary, which every member of the Twelve had a key to, I stole three candles from the shrines, lit them, and led the way through the dark to the small altar in the chapel.
Father Georgios knew how I liked things done, and he proved he was smart by not turning on the overhead recess lighting above.
Serena stood barefoot, shaking with anger.
She must have removed those strappy little shoes in the Jeep.
Without facing her, I studied the image from the corner of my eye.
There was dried blood on her arms, scrapes from her fall.
The white dress was hopelessly stained with dirt.
She looked...defeated. The effect was lost as she peered about the interior of the church.
“Have you ever been in a sanctuary before?” I mused, unable to help myself.
Her spine snapped straight. “Not an Orthodox one, no. And as far as I’m concerned, you lost your right to call yourselves churches back in the Eleventh Century.”
I chuckled. “Spoken like a devout Papist.”
She shrugged. “On points of theology, my side wins.”
I found myself inching closer to her. Theos, she was intoxicating. Any other woman would have been quaking at the prospect of a forced marriage. She knew I kept to the dark, saw what I was capable of, and yet she stood there arguing about a centuries’ old schism.
“And what do you know of theology?” I coaxed.
Pride filled her voice. “I’m an accomplished student.”
“What have you read, little scholar?” I murmured, dropping the volume of my voice even lower and enjoying the way it made her shiver.
Serena rattled off a list of Roman Catholic theologians and champions of the faith.
I wasn’t well read. It was hard to focus on books when there was adventure calling to me from a young age.
But in this moment, I wished beyond anything that I had sat through the classes Father Georgios forced on us.
I’ll start reading again, goddess. If only to be of more interest to you.
“Give me your hand,” I instructed her.
Serena took a step back. “Fuck off.”
That went straight to my dick. He jumped eagerly at the challenge.
“I want to give you something,” I growled.
“And I don’t want it.”
“Alright, shall we begin?” Georgios called out as he ambled down the central aisle to the side chapel, candle in hand.
“Serena,” I demanded, voice only loud enough for her ears.
The goddess crossed her arms and turned to the priest. “Do you want me to veil my hair?”
A pleasant surprise flashed through him. “Unnecessary but thank you for the offer.”
I swept a glance down her body. Disheveled, bleeding, and bruised, and that dress...fuck, what a mistake. This woman should have been draped in white, with a heavy lace covering draped over her head and the most exotic flowers clutched in her hand as she glided to me on a trail of petals.
I’m doing this all wrong.
My blunt nails bit into my palms from the force of me clenching my fists. I would make this up to her.
“You’ll only do the important parts to make this legal,” I ordered the presbyteros in a voice that brooked no argument.
“In such a rush to have your prize, pirate?” Serena cackled softly.
If the priest heard her, he didn’t comment. “You’ll need paperwork to file with the law, my son.”
I waved my hand. “It’s the higher powers I’m worried about.”
I could have sworn Serena muttered something like typical mobster. Frowning at her as she stepped into my side and folded her hands in front of her, I made a mental note to question Evangelia. The ditz hadn’t said Serena found our little secret. But there was no mistaking what she’d said.
Stepping onto the altar, the priest began the ceremony by invoking the name of the Triune God. I turned to face Serena. In minutes, she would be mine. And if the supernatural couldn’t argue that fact, I defied any earthly power to take her from me.
The priest’s melodic Greek filled the small chapel, the ancient words binding us together in ways that transcended mortal understanding. This wasn't how I'd imagined my wedding—hasty, secretive, with a reluctant bride—but necessity overruled romance.
The holy words washed over me as I stood before her, my bride by force and fate.
She kept her face carefully blank, those brown eyes giving away nothing of what thoughts swirled behind them.
The waterfall of her golden hair fell across her cheek as she tilted her head slightly, a veil in and of itself.
She watched me with the wariness of a cornered animal assessing its captor.
“The rings, my son,” Georgios prompted, extending his soft hand that had seen no manual labor due to our patronage.
“I have none.” A pit formed in my stomach. A bride needed a ring. How else would I mark her as my own for the world to see?
“Very well,” the presbyteros intoned. “Then by the power vested in me by the Holy Orthodox Church, I pronounce you man and wife.”
No kiss. No exchange of vows beyond what the priest had spoken on our behalf. The deed was done, simple and austere as a calm sea breeze.
Georgios made the sign of the cross over us, muttering something in Greek too quick for me to catch. The old man’s eyes held a curious blend of disapproval and resignation. He’d served my family long enough to know better than to voice either.
“I’ll have the documents prepared by morning,” he said, closing his prayer book with finality.
“Have them delivered to Olympus,” I replied, already turning to leave. “And Georgios—”
“Yes, my son?”
“Discretion, as always.”
His nod was barely perceptible. “As always.”
I placed my hand on the small of Serena’s back, guiding her outside. She paused on the threshold, a deep breath filling her lungs.
“You’ll never touch a hair on Baldwin’s head or so help me god, I will kill you myself.” Her words held a fire I longed to taste.
“I’m a man of my word,” I said harshly.
With a dip of her chin, she moved back to the Jeep and didn’t speak to me the rest of the night. As far as weddings went, that one was terrible, short and full of tension, and just plain wrong.
***