Talon (Ashes & Embers Book 4) (4 page)

He closes his eyes for a few moments and then puts the bottle back down on the bar. "All right," he relents. "I can't argue with that, especially after I just agreed to
love, honor, and obey
. I guess I'll have water, too."

"Thank you," I reply softly. "So…who are you?"

He turns on his heel and saunters back across the room with a wicked grin on his face. He definitely knows he's good-looking and it's obvious he uses it to get attention.

"Talon Valentine," he says.

Asia Valentine
. I test it in my head. My new name. "Well, I like my new last name. It's very pretty."

"You really don't recognize my name?" he asks in disbelief. "Or me? Come on."

Ah. An ego is emerging, it seems.

"No, I'm sorry." And seriously, I don't recognize this guy at all. He's not in any way the type of man I would normally ever be attracted to. He's way too wild-looking and has trouble stamped all over him.

Smiling, he shakes his head. "Well, they certainly did their job in making sure the girl didn't know who I was. At least they got that part right." Uh-oh. Sounds like I'm not what he ordered from the menu either. "I'm the guitarist in Ashes & Embers."

I choke on my water and it spews out my nose. "Oh my God, what?"

I wipe at my wet face with my hand, feeling like a total idiot. I look around for a box of tissues or something, but there aren't any.

"Here." He hands me a napkin from the bar.

"The rock band?" I ask in disbelief, dabbing at my face and hoping I haven't ruined the makeup job Kat spent almost an hour on.

"Yup."

No, no, no. This cannot be happening. I wanted quiet. Normal. Family man. Suit and tie. Someone stable, not someone wild and crazy.

Not a freaking rock star!

I close my eyes and shake my head, hoping maybe this will all go away. "Why would you want to do this? You're, like, practically famous."

This guy doesn't seem like the type who would want a wife—or have any trouble finding one if he did. This has to be some kind of PR stunt. I'm going to demand to talk to Dr. Hollister. Maybe even get a lawyer and sue for distress. I endured detailed interviews, questionnaires, meetings with psychologists and sex therapists for almost half a year for this. Months of my life—just gone. And now I'm legally married to someone who probably did this for publicity and not to find a life partner.

"Why?" he repeats, snapping a Zippo lighter open and lighting up a cigarette dangling from his mouth. "Truthfully? Because I wanted to be with someone who wasn't just interested in my dick."

Well, yeah. No problem with that, buddy. You can keep your dick over there.

F
irst
, a fucked-up kiss.

And now, I can't drink.

Then, she's telling me I can't smoke in the room.

I've been with this chick for less than half an hour and she's already messing with my mojo.

I'm eyeing her from across the reception hall where she seems to be hiding with her friend, and having a meltdown, her hands flying as she talks, head shaking, while her friend nods repeatedly.

"Hey, man, she's beautiful." My brother Storm appears next to me, smiling from ear to ear.

"What the fuck? That chick is
not
what I asked for." I sip my water distastefully. "She's already stomped her feet against me drinking and smoking."

"Well, that's a good thing, actually. You do drink a little too much, so I'll thank her for that."

I give him the side-eye. "She's not a fucking thing like what I asked for. I got ripped off."

He grins and shrugs. "I dunno. She kinda reminds me of Evie. She has that perpetually lost look. She's kinda adorable."

I almost spit my water out. "Adorable? I don't do adorable. I do models. I do actresses. I do sexy, long legs, and big tits. I do women who beg for me." I gesture at the little waif across the room who refuses to look at me. "I do
not
do that."

Storm's gaze follows mine onto her. "And where has what you've been doing gotten you? Hmm? It's time for a change, little bro." He puts his hand on my shoulder. "Do you think Evie was what I thought I'd fall in love with? I was just like you, chasing after the models, doing the friends with benefits thing and all that shit. But then she came along and bam, that was it for me. Give Asia a chance." He squeezes my shoulder. "She
is
your wife now."

Shit. Fuck.

I drink my stupid water and scan the room for my mom or Dr. Hollister or Kim or someone from the team, but of course, none of them is around. How convenient. I'm pretty sure those fuckers set this up on purpose, knowing this girl wasn't in any way my type, just to rile me up and see how it all plays out.

I make my way across the room, stopping a few times for a brief chitchat with a guest and finally confront my new partner. "You gonna hide all night?"

She looks up at me with her huge lavender eyes. Yeah, lavender. Not blue, not green, but a weird shade of light bluish grayish purple. They look like jelly beans in her head.

"I'm not hiding… I'm just talking to my friend Kat."

Her friend jumps in between us. "I love your music. I've been to, like, tons of your concerts."

"Thanks, babe."

"I've only been to one," Asia announces. "It was two years ago, though."

"She doesn't like crowds," her friend says apologetically.

"That'll hafta change," I say, eyeing Asia, who now appears to be trying to will herself to disappear. I grab her arm. "C'mon, jelly bean, let's do a slow dance." I gently tug her onto the dance floor so I can check her out up close without her friend fangirling all over me.

"Jelly bean?" she repeats as I pull her against me.

"Yeah. Your eyes are the color of candy. Are those real?" I put my arm around her tiny waist, noticing her head barely reaches my shoulder.

She giggles at me.
Fucking giggles
. "Yeah, of course they are."

"They look fake. I thought maybe you had colored contacts in."

She rests her hand on my shoulder awkwardly and my gaze drops to her chest, following the pearl necklace dangling there. Everything about her is so…small. "Nope…they're real."

She does have some beautiful eyes, so I'll give her a point for that.

"How old are you?" I ask, thinking she looks to be about nineteen or twenty, the same age as my little sister.

"I'm twenty-five, and you?"

"Twenty-six."

"I was w—"

We're interrupted by the photographer. "The sun is setting, guys. I'd like to get you outside by that little lake and get some pictures with the sunset behind you."

I think we've already had a few thousand pictures taken, but we trudge outside anyway to let this dude do his job. Just like the poses we did earlier, Asia is stiff, not relaxing against me and shying away from all the photographer's suggested photos of us kissing or in any way getting too close. Yeah, it's awkward to pose for a wedding photo with a total stranger, but she's not even trying. She could at least fake it so these pictures don't end up looking like we hate each other.

Fed up, I tickle her and she grabs at my hands, giggling, and I sneak a kiss on her lips just as the photographer snaps the photo. "Perfect!" he yells. "Best picture of the night."

"It's about time," I mutter under my breath.

"That wasn't fair," she says, finally smiling. "You totally caught me off guard."

"Get used to it, babe." I grin at her and grab her hand. "Let's go. I think we're at the part where we get to shove cake in each other's faces."

O
ur suite
at the hotel is absolutely beautiful and has obviously been prepared for us with the hope of romance and sexy times occurring. A bottle of champagne chilling in ice is positioned alongside a spread of chocolate truffles and fresh fruit, and a trail of red rose petals leads across the sitting room into the adjoining bedroom. There a king-size bed awaits, with a hot tub in the corner surrounded by scattered candles waiting to be lit.

Anxiety creeps over me like a dark cloud. I cannot sleep with him. Not tonight. My nerves are way too rattled, my heart way too heavy, my mind too freaked out with the reality of the situation I just committed myself to.

I try not to stare as he rolls his shirtsleeves up and unbuttons the front of his shirt, exposing his chest and abs—completely covered in tattoos, just like his arms. And although he's definitely good-looking in his own way, he's just not my type at all. I've never been attracted to men with long hair or body art. I have one very tiny tattoo myself, but it's only about an inch big and has special meaning for me. As far as men go, I've always been drawn to men with short hair, thin, athletic bodies, and stable careers. I guess I've always wanted the opposite of my father, who drank, partied, broke the law, and worked in construction. He always seemed dirty to me, even when he was clean. My father's rough exterior was a mirror of his interior. He was bad news, through and through. Even though my new husband isn't a criminal, he's way too raw and wild-looking for my comfort zone.

Again, I wonder if the team made a mistake and put me with the wrong guy by accident. That's the only explanation that makes any sense to me, because he's the complete opposite of what I described in all the forms they made us fill out.

Slowly sitting on the lone chair across the room from him, I reach down and pull my shoes off while he grabs an envelope from where it's resting on top of one of the dressers.

"This is addressed to us." He holds up the cream card with embossed writing. "Want me to read it?"

"Sure."

Opening the card, he reads off what it says. "Dear Talon and Asia, congratulations on your wedding day! This is the first step in what we hope is your forever as a happy couple." He frowns over at me. "You have the option of leaving for your honeymoon tomorrow to spend two weeks at a romantic getaway, or, if you both feel you need more time to get to know each other, you may postpone the honeymoon for up to two months. If you choose to postpone, then the next step in the process is to move in together as soon as possible. Please contact us if you need advice, and remember your journals and video chats. Also, please refer to the guidelines provided. Most of all, have fun and open yourselves to love!"

He tosses the card back on the dresser with a roll of his eyes. "I dunno about a romantic getaway, but I could use a vacation, someplace exotic," he says. "What do you think?"

No to all of that. "Um, if it's okay with you, I'd like to wait."

"Really? You don't want to jump on a plane tomorrow and go somewhere exciting?"

Shaking my head, I know I'm already disappointing him. "I don't think I'm ready for that yet. And I'm afraid of planes; I've never been on one."

His expression is a mix of shock and humor. "What? Are you kidding?"

"No. I've never traveled at all."

He sits on the bed and kicks off his shoes. "That's gonna have to change. I travel a lot with the band, and I wanted a wife to come with me sometimes, or at least go on vacation with me when I'm not touring."

I swallow hard as my stomach sinks. "How often do you tour?"

"Depends. We don't tour a lot like most bands do, only like two or three times a year, sometimes more, and usually not longer than a few weeks at a time. My older brother who's in the band has family obligations, so he can't be away for long stretches of time."

"So what happens during the tour? Where do we stay if I went? And what happens to me if I stay home?"

He shrugs. "If you go, then we stay all over. On the bus, in motels. It all depends. If you don't go, you stay home wherever we're living."

That sounds awful to me, living like a gypsy. Exactly what I didn't want, not having a solid home. "That's not really what I wanted. I like to be home, and I don't like being alone all the time. I was hoping for stability." My voice cracks as I realize all the reasons I wanted to get married are slowly going down the drain.

"You'll have it. Just different than you thought." He meets my eyes for a moment and his soften just a bit. "Hey, we don't have to talk about all this right now. It's been a long day; we're both tired and a little bit wacked-out over this whole thing. Let's just get some rest, and tomorrow we'll figure out where we're going to live and everything else. If you wanna wait for the honeymoon, that's fine. I'm not gonna force you to do anything."

I smile weakly. "Thank you. This is just harder than I was expecting, I guess."

"Agreed. I'm gonna take a quick shower." He rummages around in one of his duffel bags the hotel staff brought up while we were at the reception and then disappears into the bathroom.

Letting out a deep breath, I close my eyes for a few moments and try to calm myself.
It will be okay. They put us together. They know what they're doing.
Right now I can't fathom what we have in common—or ever sharing any kind of closeness with this guy—but the experts must have seen something in him that I can't see yet.

Standing to get undressed, I realize I can't get my own wedding gown off.
Shit.
There are way too many tiny buttons I can't reach, and there is no way I'm going to get it up and over my head. I knew I should never have let Kat talk me into buying this dress. Tarzan barely even looked at me in it, anyway. I could have picked out something much simpler and easier to get off, and he never would have known any different.

"Why are you still sitting there?" He saunters out of the bathroom wearing nothing but black sweat pant shorts, his long hair damp and hanging down to the middle of his back and chest, tiny drops of water dripping down over his heavily inked and very muscular naked torso. And wow, this guy is ripped with hard, defined muscles. I've never seen so much muscle on a man in real life. Despite the hair and tats, just seeing his half-naked body and the way he flexes with each movement has my insides quivering. I cannot even imagine ever touching a body like that or having someone like him be interested or attracted to me in any way, in any realm of reality.

Tearing my eyes away from the muscular V that disappears under the waistband of his pants, I tell him I can't get the dress off.

"So I guess I hafta undress you?" He flashes that notoriously devilish grin at me and tosses his towel onto the floor.

"That would be great…if you don't mind."

He crosses the room quickly, and once he is standing next to me, I realize with my heels off, he's quite a bit taller than me. "I don't mind at all," he replies, still grinning. "Turn around."

I turn my back to him and take a deep breath. He's so close to me, his bare chest almost touching my back.
Almost.
I can feel the damp heat coming off his body, enveloping me in his warmth. His hands gently touch my shoulders as he bends down, his lips barely brushing against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

"Should I undo each button or just tear it off you." His voice is teasing but laced with raw sexiness.

He wants to play, and I think he enjoys the chase, but I'm not ready to be caught.

"I'd rather not destroy the dress… It's so pretty," I reply innocently. I have plans for the dress and its lace, buttons, and silk, my mind already outlining how I can repurpose it into at least ten different outfits and accessories.

"Good choice," he agrees. "There's a lot to unbutton… It's like unwrapping a present."

"I don't think I'm much of a gift."

His fingers work the buttons and eyelets, brushing against my flesh with each one that comes apart. "I'll be the judge of that when this dress is off you and I get you into that bed."

"Oh…" My voice catches in my throat as my heart skips, and wet heat radiates unexpectedly between my thighs. "I-I don't know if I'm ready for that yet."

"You just married me, toots. That's about as ready as we can get." Another button pops.

"I know… I just… This is a lot scarier than I thought it was going to be. I wasn't planning on you undressing me. Or going to bed together. So soon."

His hands slide a little lower down my spine. "Yeah. But here we are, alone in a hotel on our wedding night, and you've got a gown on with a thousand fucking tiny pearl buttons and I'm taking it off you. So yeah, it's a little bit of a turn-on, and I thought that was the next step."

I nod slowly. He's got me there. Unless I call the concierge for a maid to help me, my only option is to either cut this beautiful dress off, or let him take it off me.
My husband.
My body shudders involuntarily.

"Am I that bad?" he asks.

"No, just…not quite what I was expecting."

"You're not what I was expecting either."

His fingers slowly work the dress farther down, past the middle of my spine, and I try to force myself to relax. The team picked him for me. They wouldn't put me with someone who would hurt me or force himself on me. They trusted him, so there's no reason I shouldn't.

He unclasps a few more buttons and the fabric at my lower back separates.

"Now, this is exactly what I like," he whispers. "A slow, tantalizing reveal…like a surprise."

Christ
. I don't know if I should feel creeped out or cherished right now.

His hands are warm against my exposed skin as the final part of my satin security is undone at the base of my spine, and I panic, feeling way too exposed and vulnerable. I'm not ready to be undressed in front of him, especially knowing I'm not what he wanted.

Clutching the gown against the front of me, I step away from him and turn to meet his burning eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"I'm just not ready for this…"

His eyes flash darker as he steps closer to me and grabs the material of my gown. "I want to see you. Stop hiding."

"No."

"No?"

"No."

"Do you have anything on under that gown?"

"Yes, of course." Heat rises to my cheeks.

"Then what are you hiding for? Let me see." He tries to tug the material away from me again, but I hold on to it for dear life.

Shaking my head in frustration, I try to move away from him, but instead, trip over all the endless white fabric pooled at my feet. He catches me effortlessly and holds me against his bare chest.

"Very slick," I say, trying to pull away from him, but his arm snaked around my waist doesn't let me go.

"I am. Very." His eyes roam down my body and take in what I've got on beneath the gown. "Holy shit, you're wearing a gardener belt and fuckin' thigh highs." He lets out a low whistle. "Very nice."

"It's a
garter
belt, actually."

"That's what I said. And what the hell did you wear all this sexy stuff for if you don't want me touching you? Don't tell me those morons set me up with a tease."

"I'm not a tease! The girl at the bridal store talked me into all this. She said it's what women wear under wedding gowns. How would I know? I've never done this before."

"Exactly! You're supposed to be wearing that for
me
. It's our wedding night. We're supposed to commiserate."

I stifle a giggle. "
Consummate
. And, sorry for the disappointment, but we're not."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm sorry." I try to squirm away from him, but he's not budging with his hold on me. "I'm just not ready for this. This is too fast to do with a stranger. Married or not. I don't just jump into bed with people. I need some time to get used to you, and get to know you…be attracted to you." At that, he drops his hold on me as if I've burned him, and I almost fall over.

"Wait a minute," he says. "You're not attracted to me?"

"You're not really my type or what I pictured."

He scoffs and shakes his wet hair, flinging drops of water onto me. "All women are attracted to me, babe. I've never met one who wasn't."

"Surprise." I let out a little laugh. "You just married one, unfortunately. I'm not into the long hair and tattoos. At all."

He crosses his arms over his inked chest. "That's fuckin' great. I'm not about to get out a cheese grater and scrape all my ink off, honey. So you're gonna have to
get
into it."

"Don't be ridiculous." Carefully stepping out of the dress at my feet, I head for the closet near the door, feeling his eyes on me every step of the way. I yank one of the thick robes off its hanger and quickly pull it on.

"I definitely see implants in our future, so I guess we're even, then."

"Implants?" I repeat, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm a boob man. And you're definitely lacking in that department."

My mouth falls open. "Oh, hell no. I am not altering my body for you."

Flopping down onto the couch, he runs his hands through his long, wet hair. "Lemme get this straight. You hate to travel, you got no tits, you're short, you hate long hair and tattoos, you probably hate my music, and you're not attracted to me. At all."

"Yeah. That about sums this up. Actually, I do like your music, from what I remember."

"What the fuck did we answer all those questions for? I asked for a hot, tall, sexy as fuck blond with big tits who loves to travel." He points to me. "Instead, I get a flat dwarf who can barely look me in the eye, doesn't want me to touch her, and won't get on a plane."

I fight back the tears burning my eyes. "Yeah, and I asked for a clean-cut, good-looking, sweet, intelligent, hard-working family man. Instead, I got inked-up Tarzan."

"We got fucked.
Hard
."

"Do you think they made a mistake?" I suggest hopefully. "Maybe put us with the wrong partner? There are other couples in the project."

He thinks about this for a few moments while chewing his lip. "I dunno. Both our names are on that card. It would be hard to confuse us with other people; we both have very unique names. Seems like the only damn thing we
do
have in common."