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“You,” her mother said, pointing to one of the other horrendously clad bridesmaids. “Take over the cake. Shaye, you will come with me.”
Strong fingers curled around Shaye’s wrist. A second later she was being dragged out of the reception tent to the edge of the beach.
Sand squished between her sandaled toes as a warm, salty breeze wrapped itself around her, swishing her grass skirt over her knees. Sunlight had faded completely. Now slivers of ethereal moonlight illuminated their path. Waves sang a gentle, soothing song.
Her mom’s velvety-brown eyes—eyes exactly like her own—narrowed slightly. She dropped Shaye’s hand as if contact could cause premature wrinkles. “Do you want to kill my hopes and dreams? Because that’s what you’re doing.”
Shaye wrapped her arms around her middle. “Your hopes and dreams...for me?”
“Of course for you! At the rate you’re going, you’re going to die alone, not just unloved but despised. I’ll never have a grandbaby.”
“There’s nothing wrong with dying alone. I imagine it’s quite peaceful.”
“Would it kill you to be nice?” Tamara smoothed a wisp of hair from her face. “To pretend you have a heart for just a few hours?”
That stung. Badly. “I’ll worry about me, and you worry about you, okay? This kind of upset could cause you to shrivel up like a raisin.”
Horrified, Tamara patted the skin around her eyes. “I just had Botox. I shouldn’t have a single line or wrinkle. Do you see a wrinkle? Tell me!”
A new card flashed through her mind.
There’s only one person worthy of dating you—YOU!
“Mother, you inspire me,” Shaye replied honestly.
Somehow mollified, Tamara brushed her fingertips over the side of her face. “Yes, well. I try.”
“So...are we done here?”
“No! Not even close.” Her mom stomped a high-heeled foot. “Tell me why you spurn everyone. Tell me why you never date.”
She used to date. She’d quickly discovered men never called when they said they would. Most hadn’t been interested in getting to know her as a person; they’d wanted to get her out of her clothing. Some guys had admired other women while they were out with her.
Some had lied straight up. One had used her for her money. Another had cheated on her.
Relationships were too much trouble for too little reward.
Shaye twirled a strand of the grass skirt around her finger. Instead of explaining her reasons to her mother, she said, “I love you, and I’ll call you when you return from your honeymoon. Now I’m going home.”
“You’re not going anywhere, young lady. Not until you’ve apologized to Preston.” Tamara shoved a finger in her face. “You treated him shabbily, and I won’t have it.”
Had she treated him shabbily?
Shaye valued and prized honesty, and that’s what she’d given him. Shouldn’t he thank her?
Would she ever understand the complexity of human interactions?
“Mother. Nannies raised me.” A gentle reminder. “Your orders hold no sway with me.”
The color drained from Tamara’s cheeks. “But... I’m your mother.”
“And I’m the Ice Princess of Bitterslovakia, the Grand Duchess of Rancorstonia and the Queen of Hostileland.” The many names Tamera had called her over the years.
Waves splashed in the distance as her mother snapped, “All I’ve ever wanted was a nice, normal daughter. Instead I’m stuck with you.” Tears welled in her eyes. “You won’t be happy until you’ve ruined my wedding.”
Fighting the newest sting, Shaye allowed a familiar icy numbness to encompass her. The same numbness she’d relied on during her childhood. A sweet relief against depression and desolation.
Tamara stared past her. “Conner tried to tell me. You’re jealous of me. Admit it! I should have disowned you long ago. Conner says negativity must be purged to allow positivity to flourish.”
Wow. Of all the things her mother had said over the years, that little gem might have cut the deepest.
She thinks I’m the problem.
Wow. Just...wow!
As a little girl, Shaye had craved her mother’s attention, approval and adoration more than breath. But nothing she’d tried had worked. Not gifts or fits or pretending to be the woman’s shadow. Once, Shaye had even run away.
The police had found her, and the nanny had come to pick her up.
“Why don’t you do us both a favor and take responsibility for your own life,” Shaye said, her voice as cold as her internal armor.
The tears began to pour down Tamara’s cheeks. “Conner and I wanted so badly for this day to be perf—” Her eyes widened and glazed with lust. “Perfect,” she finished on a dreamy sigh. “Hmm. So perfect.”
Her voice had dropped to a husky purr.
“Mother?”
“Man.” Tamara stretched out her arms. “My man.”
“I don’t understand.” Shaye dragged her gaze to the ocean—her mouth fell open in shock.
There, rising from the water like primitive sea gods, were six gloriously tall, muscled barbarians. The moon glowed behind them reverently, providing each male with a golden halo.
The warriors were shirtless, revealing washboard abs and skin so tanned it made her think liquid gold had been poured over steel. They looked like supermodels. Only better. Yes, so much better.
Unbelievable...surreal...magnificent.
As the six warriors focused on Shaye, molten air snagged in her lungs, melting her precious ice armor.
The urge to strip and splay herself atop a table to offer her body as the dinner buffet bombarded her. She would be an all-you-can-eat buffet. No charge.
She moistened her lips. Her mouth watered, her skin tingling, and her stomach clenched.
I’m...turned on? By strangers?
What’s wrong with me?
The men continued to prowl toward her. They were so close she could see the silvery water droplets sliding down their chests and gathering in their navels.
Other droplets slid lower...
Her gaze snagged on the man in the middle, and she forgot how to blink.
Dangerous, her most feminine instincts whispered. Lethal.
He was taller than the rest of the group, his dark blond hair hanging in a wet tangle around features that had been chiseled by a master. His eyes... Oh, glory hallelujah, his eyes. They were blue-green, neither color blending with the other but standing alone, so wickedly mesmerizing she felt the pull of them all the way to her bones.
Her nipples hardened, and an ache suddenly throbbed between her legs.
There was something wild about him. Something untamed and savage. His confident swagger, perhaps. The deceptively calm glint in his expression that said he did what he pleased, when he pleased.
As she stared at him, he stared at her. He studied her face, searing arousal flickering in those magnificent eyes, the blue-green deepening and mixing at last, becoming smoldering turquoise.
Raw, masculine perfection.
“Mine,” her mom said on a wispy catch of breath. “All mine.”
A previously missed detail hit her awareness. The warriors carried swords.
They’re armed for war.
She gulped. The one in the middle cocked his finger, beckoning her to join him.
Shivering, drowning in the flood of his maleness, she struggled to shake her head no.
Go to him, her stupid whoremones beseeched.
She shook her head, violently this time.
He frowned at her. “Come here.” His husky voice drifted across the small distance, almost as intoxicating and heady as a caress.
In seconds, a sensual fog wove through her mind. Her knees quaked, and another shiver traipsed the length of her spine.
What would happen if he actually touched her?
What would happen if he trailed those luscious pink lips along her every curve and hollow?
Images flashed through her mind. The man’s mouth on her breasts, his fingers slipping deep inside her, her legs parting to give him better access...
He’s seducing me without even trying.
Either that, or she was seducing herself!
“Come here,” he repeated.
“Yes,” Tamara said, already stepping toward him. The dreamy glaze in her eyes had darkened with eagerness. “I need to touch you, or I’ll die. Please let me touch you.”
The part of Shaye that recognized how dangerous these men were also realized there was something wrong with the entire situation—she still couldn’t bring herself to care.
Must fight this!
Scowling, she reached out to latch on to her mom’s arm and jerk Tamara to a halt. “Don’t go near them.”
“Let me go.” She struggled against Shaye’s hold. “I’ve never been so in love. I need to be with my man.”
“We’re going back to the tent.” Dragging her flailing mother behind her, Shaye raced toward the outside reception area, where laughing voices, soft music and unsuspecting guests greeted her.
She dared a glance behind her. The warriors hadn’t slowed or changed direction. They’d followed her, lust in their eyes.
“Help us,” she shouted, flinging sand with every step. She swept the curtain aside and entered the tent. “Someone call 911!”
No one paid her any heed. They were too busy dancing and drinking themselves into oblivion, thanks to the open bar.
“Let me go,” her mom continued to shout. When that failed to gain her release, she sank her teeth into Shaye’s arm.
“Ow!” Not knowing what else to do, Shaye hooked her foot behind her mom’s ankle and pushed, inadvertently sending the bride hurling into the dessert table. Platters of food crashed to the ground.
Several people glanced at Shaye before concentrating on the fallen bride with confusion and horror.
“There are men—” Shaye pointed “—out there. Dangerous men with swords. Does anyone have a gun? Did someone call 911?”
Tamara jolted to her feet, unconcerned by the red-and-white frosting now streaking her ten-thousand-dollar dress. She elbowed her way past the guests. “Where he is? My love! My heart!”
“Tamara?” Conner, her new husband, rushed to his bride to lock her in his arms, his expression both concerned and incredulous as she struggled to break free. “What’s wrong with you, kitten?”
“I need...him.” The last word was uttered on a relieved, happy sigh.
The six sea gods had just stepped into the tent; they consumed every inch of breathable space and blocked the only viable exit.
The music suddenly stopped. The male guests cowered, as if death had just arrived, and the females gasped in bliss, already moving toward the warriors, reaching out, eager to touch the exquisite display of masculinity.
This couldn’t be happening.
The one in the middle scanned the crowd, as if drinking in every detail...but also searching...searching...and finally locking on Shaye. Satisfaction glowed in his eyes.
She trembled as dizzying warmth speared her. More images rushed through her mind. This man naked and sweaty, pressed against her, licking her...
No, no, no. She forced her mind to blank.
Who were these men?
And how did the tall one make her forget who and what she was, and simply enjoy the pleasures she somehow knew he alone could give her?
He alone? What madness!
She grabbed the cake knife from the floor, icing coating her fingers, holding the weapon in front of her. Her heart thumped erratically in her chest.
After multiple physical altercations with different stepsiblings—and sometimes having to fend off a new stepfather—Shaye had considered self-defense classes prudent. The problem? She’d never had to put the lessons into action.
