It was a long time before John could make his hands work right. And as he signed his reply, he thought that for all the bullshit the glymera was throwing out, and the stress in the household, and the sadness over Wrath … this was something he felt as though he had waited a lifetime for. Something that he had crossed a vast distance to do. Some kind of goal that he’d wanted to meet while not being aware it was out there.

Yes, I am, he signed with pride.

Beth had never loved her brother more. As John Matthew stepped in beside her, she could sense his quiet strength resonating out to her—and she needed it.

Even though she had arranged everything, she had no idea how Wrath was going to react to this.

Glancing around her brother’s big shoulders, she popped her brows again at Lassiter. At least her hellren would be spared the sight of the angel in that rig.

“You love it, right?” Lassiter asked, holding his Bible high. “I mean, you told me to go onto the Internet. I did. I even printed out my diploma or whatever the hell it’s called.”

Opening the cover of the King James version, he took out a piece of paper and wave it around. “See? Nice and legal-like.”

Beth leaned in. “Wow.”

“I know, right? Just like Harvard.”

“Impressive.”

“I’m totally framing that shit, wha-what.” He put the thing away. “And after I was done, I researched human weddings. I knew I was going to need some ceremonial robes, and these were the ones I liked best. I found them at Gould’s Costumes and More—boom! I’m nothing but a hound dog.”

Beth rubbed her temples. Vishous. She should have asked Vishous to do this. “How’d you manage the hair?”

“Aqua Net. Hairpins. Cosmo December issue—for the holidays. Again, thank you, Internet.”

Rhage shook his head. “Do you have balls? Or are angels born sac-less?”

Lassiter smiled slyly. “I do all right. Back in the Old Country, I used to chime noon and midnight.”

Really, really, really should have asked Vishous. “Well, I appreciate everything you—”

As everyone went silent, she looked up to the head of the stairs. Wrath had appeared and was standing tall and proud, George by his side. Unlike John, he wasn’t in a tux, but he had put on a certain suit she remembered.

It was the one he’d worn on their first official “date” at Darius’.

“What’s the crowd for?” he said.

“Just come on down,” she replied.

As he started his descent, her palms went sweaty—and then an instant later, the mother of all hot flashes hit, the heat searing through her.

Man, she couldn’t wait until she was either pregnant or fully over the needing. Her inner microwave was driving her crazy.

As Wrath’s only pair of non-shitkickers hit the mosaic floor, she thought that he couldn’t have looked more magnificent. His hair was fanned all over his massive shoulders, the ends coming down to his hips, and with that tie at his neck … he looked like a powerful businessman. Who could kill if he were so inclined.

And didn’t that get the hormones cranking.

“What are we doing here, Beth,” he demanded.

“We’re getting married.”

As he recoiled, she rushed in before he could go on any kind of tirade. “You said my human customs matter—that they’re equally important. So we’re getting married. Right now. In my way.”

He shook his head. “But we’re already mated. Why—”

“So you can divorce me and keep the throne.” As his jaw dropped, she cut him off. “In front of our family here. With a real live minister.”

Lassiter raised his hand. “Happy to be of service. I also do christenings. Just sayin’.”

Wrath shook his head again. “This is—”

“Are you saying my human side is of lesser value?”

“Well, no. But—”

“So then if we do the ceremony here and now, we haven’t lost anything, have we. You can divorce me according to vampire law, we’re still mated, and we’ve managed to keep the throne.” She kicked up her chin even though he couldn’t see her. “Pretty good math, don’t you think?”

There was a beat of hushed silence. And then one of the Brothers said, “I fucking love this female. I really totally fucking love her.”

As Wrath allowed himself to get maneuvered around the foyer, George, as always, went with him.

Frankly, even if he’d had his sight, he would have had to be led around.

He kept waiting for an inner NFW to sound out. But Beth had boxed him in, in the best possible way—she was right: If her cultural norms were as important to them as a couple? Well … if they were “married” in the human way, then they were mated. Period.

And yet, he wasn’t sure how he felt. Then again, they’d done things according to his race’s traditions originally—and although none of that had any resonance for her, she’d gone right along with it.

Seemed only fair that he do the same for her.

“You ready?” Lassiter asked him softly.

People were still shuffling about, moving around the great space of the foyer. “What are they doing?” Wrath whispered back.

“Forming two lines so there’s an aisle that starts at the dining room and runs right to us. We’re about five yards in front of the billiards room. She’s disappeared—they’ve shut the doors so we can’t see her.”

Wrath thought back to when they’d been mated. The Scribe Virgin had been around then. Beth had worn Wellsie’s red gown—and had nearly fainted as his brothers had carved her nine-letter name into his shoulders. John Matthew, Blay, and Qhuinn hadn’t been in the picture then. Neither had Rehv and Xhex, Payne, Manny, the Shadow brothers, and others.

Or Xcor and the Bastards.

And since then, they’d lost Wellsie. No one else, however.

From out of nowhere, music flooded the foyer, a classical ditty he’d heard before, usually in chick flicks that involved … weddings, natch.

“Ready?” Lassiter asked.

“Yeah.” Jesus, this was not what he’d expected to be doing.

“I just nodded to Fritz,” the angel whispered. “And he’s opening the doors.”

Wrath cleared his throat and leaned in. “What … what is she wearing?”

“White. Calf-length. Loose. She’s escorted by her brother and carrying a pink rose that Rhage took from a bouquet on the mantlepiece.” There was a pause. “Her eyes are right on you, and that smile of hers? Million bucks, my friend. Million fucking bucks.”

All at once, the shit about the throne and the other reasons they were doing this went away: As he caught the scent of his leelan, all he thought of was that she was everything to him—and not just because she might well be saving his throne, right here and now.

Oh, and holy shit, she might be pregnant, too.

“Dearly beloved,” Lassiter began, “we are gathered here to witness the joining of Elizabeth, daughter of Darius, and Wrath, son of Wrath.”

So they were leaving the formal vampire names out. Cool. Made it seem more human.

“Who gives this female—ah, woman’s—hand in marriage?”

Wrath expected one of the brothers to translate John’s response. Instead, the male communicated his reply loud and clear: He whistled an ascending note that declaratively announced he was the guy presenting his sister.

On instinct, and because he had no idea what the ceremony entailed, Wrath thrust out his palm. As it was clasped by John Matthew, the two of them squeezed hard, a vow given and acknowledged in the shake, an I’ll-take-good-care-of-her exchanged with a You’d-better-fucking-do-that.

Cue the throat clearing. Like maybe a couple of the brothers were getting emotional.

Lassiter coughed a little and there was the sound of pages being flipped back and forth. “Ah … okay, look, I’m just going to wing it, all right? Is there any reason you two can’t do this? No? Awesome.”