CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE #2
Earlier that afternoon, I’d told Mercy and Tessa that I was planning to intercept Axel before the party.
Mercy gushed because she and Ryker had succumbed to twenty years of foreplay at a Prohibition Ball that apparently ended in a champagne baptism—I was intrigued, but didn’t probe for further details.
With hope for what could transpire for Axel and me, she taught me the Charleston.
I wasn’t great at it, but that night, I had the most fun of my life as Axel swung me around, the fringe on my dress flying out to pronounce the grandness of each twirl. And I was in awe, watching all of them.
It seems there’s nothing they don’t excel at.
Tonight, all my brothers-in-law take turns spinning me around the dance floor, each with their own distinct flair and welcome.
I even get to twirl with my little Music Man—Remy might be the most gallant of them all.
I’ve been feeding him song trivia to wow Maddox with whenever I see him.
No one suspects that it’s me yet, so we’ve been having a blast with it.
He kisses me on the cheek, and my heart melts.
If that wasn’t enough to turn my insides into goo, my gaze latches to Axel, who jitterbugs with Rena. She glows with the joy of a daughter. He adores her with the pride of a father. And my chest tightens for this man who means everything to so many.
Even when the dance is over and Ty swaggers toward them to steal his wife, there is an exchange of veneration and camaraderie that is astounding, considering how Rena said she and Ty married without her brothers’ knowledge.
No animosity remains. Axel pulls him in for a hug, issues what I’m guessing is a thank-you, and swallows down a lump of gratitude.
I mingle with two of the other couples for a while.
Liam and Celeste have a Hollywood-elite vibe.
Glamorous and witty. Gage and Leigh are formidable and would likely terrify most ordinary citizens.
He even calls her Wicked, though she’s evasive about her background, which is something I relate to.
Gage has the markings of an enforcer, but Porter is his last name, and that doesn’t ring any bells.
The brief conversation I have with him is enlightening.
A thread of solidarity weaves through all of them.
After Mercy helps me in the restroom, which was humbling because she had to stand in the stall and hold my dress—apparently, this is what sisters are for—I go in search of my husband.
My husband.
He’s in an intense discussion with Wells, who is the clear leader of his crew.
Not only do they refer to him as Chief, but he has that same dominant caretaking gene that Axel has.
He also absolutely adores his wife, Ivy.
His eyes track her, no matter what else is going on.
Although, now, they dart to me as I inch closer.
Axel doesn’t notice in time to halt his side of the conversation. “You have enough influence to ensure me a week in Greece,” he barks. “One goddamn week. Let me give her th—”
“Speaking of your beautiful bride,” Wells states, cutting him off.
In harmony with that pronouncement, I reach for Axel’s hand, dragging his gaze to me. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, darling.” He wraps his arm around my waist and kisses my cheek, his lips caressing my ear. “Hello, Mrs. Noire. I’ve missed you.”
“I was only gone for”—I check his watch—“almost a half hour. That’s pathetic. Better have some time set aside to get me out of this dress.”
“Days—getting you of out of it and keeping you out of everything.” He moves his hand to the back of my neck and presses my diamond collar against my skin, as if to add, Everything but this.
“I can’t wait,” I assure him with a peck on his jaw.
My eyes drift to the handsome Chief watching us.
“Is the honeymoon an issue? It was so last minute, and Axel loves to spoil me, but we have a lifetime for that if there’s something you need him for.
Especially if it’s something for Rena. We can wait. ”
I’m not sure what business Wells has with Axel.
The only tidbit that I picked up on was that they erased people.
They also said a few things in passing that were military phrases, so I’m guessing they served at some point, which would be a fitting background for an erasing business.
They must be the people Axel would’ve used to give me a new life if I’d requested that.
The entire family—women included—belongs to that life-taking club. That makes sense for former soldiers and perhaps even an erasing business, but my gut tells me there’s more to it.
Wells smiles; his green eyes are kind, but they also hold something I can’t discern. “No issue. And Rena will be beaming about this for a month, so no worries there. You should both enjoy this celebration stress-free and go on your honeymoon as planned.”
I’m missing something, but it occurs to me that it’s an intentional obscurement, even on Axel’s part.
Maybe standing beside my husband will entail a lot of details being omitted.
I’m not sure how I feel about that if I’m expected to be a Noire first, but tonight isn’t the time to dwell on it.
Especially not when Axel sweeps me into his arms.
“Don’t extend offers that I’m unwilling to follow through with,” he chides against my lips. “There is nothing that could prevent me from spending a week alone with my wife.”
“All day long, I’ve been having pinch-me moments.” I brush my fingertips against his scruff, my heart clogging my throat with overwhelming gratitude. “It’s hard to believe this is real.”
His forehead crinkles, as if that pains him. “It’s just the beginning, baby. Your dreams and desires are my only mission, remember?”
“In that case”—I nuzzle my face against his neck, eager to have him all to myself—“I’d like another dance with my dashing husband.”
Axel flashes one look at the band, which is essentially a mini orchestra, and they switch to “Tonight, Tonight” by The Smashing Pumpkins. He bears an eerie sense of power, but it’s intensely comforting to be under the umbrella of it.
The opening chords of the song are nothing short of spiritual, violins lifting our steps, drums rumbling in our bones, a crescendo of notes reaching for the vaulted ceilings. It’s immersive—hopeful and haunting.
“Twelve hours until we leave for Greece,” I muse, my stomach flip-flopping. “This has been the most incredible day. The honeymoon will be amazing, but I’m not ready for today to end.”
“Good, because I have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise?”
“Yes. A wedding gift, but it’s optional.” He has one hand on my back and the other clasped in mine. He squeezes that one to ensure I’m affording him my full attention. “I only want to venture into it if it’s something you feel good about.”
“Well, now I’m intrigued.” I bite my lip, drinking in the party as he guides me smoothly to the soaring music.
ONE-two-three. ONE-two-three.
Axel teased me relentlessly yesterday, edging me without mercy.
He made us both abstain for the past forty-eight hours so tonight would be special.
It shouldn’t be torturous to go two days without an orgasm.
It certainly never used to be, but this was delicious agony.
Like when you don’t eat all day because you’re saving room for your favorite feast.
“Did I mark this optional wedding gift on my form?”
“You did, but curiosity and willingness don’t always coincide.
” He hesitates, searching for how he wants to phrase it, which only compounds my budding enthusiasm.
“This was our celebration with the people we love. But my members who are regulars, who have been with me for years and years, have waited for this—for me to find my queen. It might sound odd, but they are invested not just in La Lune Noire, but in me.”
“That makes sense. You’re royalty to them. They all just want to touch your crown.” I study him for a beat, still not grasping what the surprise is. “I’m not sure I understand the correlation.”
“If you want to have a collar-only experience in Magie Noire, with visibility”—he arches his eyebrow with that—“it would be a powerful way for me to truly announce you.”
ONE-two-three. ONE-two-three.
My panties are wasted—or rather, the flimsy lingerie I’m clad in.
There’s merely a useless mop of arousal at this point, but I buy myself some time to digest his suggestion by being flippant.
“Because the last time was so ordinary—you announcing me as your fiancée at the Prohibition Ball before they all shouted in unison, ‘Drink and conspire,’ and the place erupted like it was New Year’s Eve. ”
“Exactly.” He grins, and it’s the gleam of a devil who paints hell like a haven.
Cocoon me in eternal damnation.
“I have questions.”
He presses his lips to my temple, spinning me around the dance floor as if we were a couple out of a Jane Austen novel, not one negotiating exhibitionism. “Of course you do.”
“I’m going to list them all so I don’t forget, and then you can answer.
Have you done this with anyone else down there?
Please don’t hold back because it’s our wedding.
I can handle it, and I need to know. Where will it be?
A specific room? Who will be present?” I slant my head toward the family with that one.
“You wouldn’t be jealous? What will we do?
And maybe, maybe”—a lust-drenched, ragged breath blasts out of me—“can we go soon?”
His laugh is grand and boisterous, begging attention from the entire room, but reserved for just me. “I adore you, Zara Noire.” He releases my hand to palm my head, peppering kisses over my battering pulse point and the column of my throat. “I love you with everything I am.”
Zara Noire.
I’m dizzy, desperate for his lips to be in other places, but I manage a breathy, “I love you more,” as I peer at my very own Atlas.
“Not possible, darling.” He pecks my jaw, straightening with wolfish approval of my greed and returning us to more demure waltzing. “Let’s get the guests out of the way first. Everyone present here is explicitly uninvited to be in Magie Noire this evening.”
“That saves us a lot of awkward mandatory dinners.”
ONE-two-three. ONE-two-three.
“That it does.” He chuckles before his tone drops to a husky tenor.
“As far as jealousy, I’m a selfish man; I do not share.
No one else will ever touch you. I won’t ever budge on that.
You’re mine and only mine, so there might be moments that I feel murderous at anyone else witnessing how extraordinary you are in the throes of ecstasy.
But more than that, it excites me because you listed it as one of your greatest fantasies, and I want nothing more than to be the man who makes your every dream come true. ”
“I don’t need it,” I protest, my stomach swooping with giddiness over his possessiveness and his willingness to stretch himself for me. “It was—”
“I know you don’t. Let me answer the rest.” A more somber veneer stains him, but his one-two-three steps never falter.
“My past with Magie Noire is sordid. My father made me go there weekly, so up until I was about twenty-five, I used the amenities, but nothing public. Then I reclaimed my feelings about all of that and left it behind. There’s a similar club run by a buddy of mine—discreet, exclusive.
That’s where my experiences have taken place for the last decade-plus.
I wanted complete anonymity. But I have a private room here. ”
There are so many elements to pluck from that admission—anger for what his monster of a father forced on him, curiosity and jealousy about his past experiences, pride that he wants the opposite of anonymity with me, and a bit of confusion regarding what he’s suggesting.
“Private?” I ask as he twirls me and pulls me back to him.
“All of us have private rooms in the owners’ wing,” he goes on.
“Mine butts up to the voyeur hall. That was purposeful. It was a statement, announcing that if I was willing to share that part of my life, I would. It’s been unoccupied since we added that wing.
And now … we spent so much time hiding, Zar.
If you want me to show others how much I love you, that you’re the one I’ve chosen because you are fucking perfect, I’d be honored. ”
A part of him wants this experience too. With me.
My heart thrashes wildly, thrill surging through my veins. “So … what …”
“You’ve got some drool here, wife.” He brushes his lips to the corner of my mouth, his tongue darting out for a teasing lick. “I have some ideas for what we can do, but if you’d prefer to have more control in this situation—”
“No.” I shake my head. “For one night, I just want to be the Noire queen, submitting to my king.”
He stiffens, his eyes romping all over my face. “What happened on that call with your father?”
I knew Rena would tell him what she’d overheard, but I intended to keep my frustrations from touching us today.
“Nothing.” When his stern leer warns me to be forthcoming, my shoulders deflate. “Nothing I want to discuss tonight. Please, Axel. Let’s keep to our marriage and our mission—dreams and desires—which looks like it’s going to be you fucking me in front of your kingdom.”
The slightest tint of conflict flecks his midnight eyes, but he squashes it, his lips crashing into mine. He kisses with the deepest parts of him, and just like the first time his mouth conquered mine, I feel his dominance and his surrender. That duality awakens everything within me.
He releases my mouth, his gaze flicking from my lips to my collar to my eyes.
And he knows. He owns me.
“Our kingdom, my fearless Thorn. La Lune Noire is yours now. Let’s introduce them to their queen.”