Page 126 of Stolen Faith
Rowan gripped the back of Brennon’s neck, pressing their foreheads together, moved by the words. “This is perfect,” he whispered.
“When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”
Rowan pulled away, eyes narrowed. “Wait a second. Are you quoting movie lines to me?”
Brennon cracked up. “Damn. You figured it out just as I was about to break into Adam Sandler’s ‘I Wanna Grow Old with You.’ That was going to be my showstopper.”
“Now I understand why I’m so fucking nervous. I’m marrying a lunatic,” Rowan joked, even though he felt a million times better. Screw the ball of light. He had Brennon. “Thanks, man.”
“Okay now?”
Rowan nodded, his voice dropping as he turned up the drama. “Getting called to the altar was the best thing that ever happened to me…it brought me to you.”
Brennon’s eyes widened. “Did you just use Jack’s Titanic line on me? Because, Jesus, if I hadn’t fallen in love with you before this, I sure as hell would have after that.”
Rowan paused, waiting for Brennon to realize what he’d said.
“Shit,” Brennon grumbled. “I did it again.”
“Did what again?”
Brennon sighed. “I told Iza I loved her when we were holding TiffaniGrace, Barry, and her father hostage in that office. Promised myself the next time I said those three little words, it would be in an appropriate place, you’d both be there, and I’d be saying them to the two of you.”
Rowan cupped Brennon’s jaw. “All I’m hearing is you owed me one.”
“And all I’m hearing is…” Brennon paused, making it clear he expected Rowan to follow suit.
Rowan chuckled. “I’m not you, man. I’m saving all my best lines for the vows.” There was a knock at the door, alerting them it was time. “Speaking of which…”
He and Brennon turned to the mirror at the same time, looking at their own reflections and then each other.
“Ready?” Brennon asked.
“More ready than I’ve ever been in my life.”
The two of them walked together to the altar room, where the Grand Master was already waiting for them. He knew it was Juliette under that robe, but in the dramatic setting of the altar room, with her face shadowed by the hood, she looked taller. More menacing.
Typically, trinities had four weeks between the binding ceremony and the wedding, but due to the severity of Rowan’s injuries, Juliette had given them a couple extra weeks to recuperate, physically and mentally. He suspected she and Devon had needed that extra time as well.
The sound of the door opening had him and Brennon turning around as one, and then…she was there. Izabel walked toward them.
Rowan couldn’t take his eyes off her.
This woman was going to be his wife. It didn’t seem possible he could call someone so beautiful, so incredible, his.
“Breathe,” Brennon whispered.
Rowan had forgotten how. He drew in a deep breath, glancing at his soon-to-be husband and realized he was doubly blessed.
Izabel wore a simple but elegant off-white dress. She’d confessed a few days ago that her primary focus when purchasing a gown was no boning. The dress she wore was elegant and soft. The top was sleeveless, with a plunging vee that went almost to the waist. The elongated triangles of creamy fabric were embellished with beaded flowers. The skirt was plain, hugging her hips before falling straight to the floor. There was a small train that brushed the stone behind her as she walked.
She smiled as she stepped between them, and they turned as one to face the Grand Master.
“When you joined, you made a vow. You pledged your lives to our cause and our way. You’ve met your partners, your lovers, your spouses.” Juliette’s voice was lower than he remembered, to the point he almost doubted who was hidden under that robe. Had the whole thing been misdirection? Was Devon really the Grand Master?
No, because the person who’d conducted their binding ceremony had been decidedly female.
Rowan shook off the musings and focused.