The Deity of Death (Virgins and Villains #3)

Epilogue

EPILOGUE

MALIK

Two Months Later

“ Y ou didn’t invite anyone to this shindig?” Henry Remington asks while we stare over a crowd of well-dressed people and smiling faces. He has a hand on my shoulder, the way a father would his son when his boy did something worthy of praise.

“Didn’t have anyone to invite,” I answer, but the words don’t leave a hollow emptiness inside me.

Family, friends—they never had a place in my life until I met Melina. All they ever wanted was to hurt me, use me, or create obstacles to hinder my progression in life. Leaving them behind, even if it means not having anyone here on this joyous day, is for the best.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Henry says. “But it doesn’t matter, anyway. You’ve got us watching your back.”

Knowing Henry, he’d be the first to fire a round in it. Accidentally, of course, at the first sign of trouble.

“Thank you, Henry. It means a lot to hear that.” It seems like a sensible answer, even if I don’t mean it.

I’ve come to enjoy the old man’s company. Leaving my home country and joining Melina in hers, I watched him step out of the shell he developed back home. And he wasn’t lying, either. Henry Remington isn’t the fear-filled man who stood against Omar Ali. When he’s stuck in the boardroom with, as he called them, empty suits and pencil pushers, he’s rather intimidating.

“You’re part of the family now, so don’t even mention it.” He gives me a pat on the back. “Let me go see if everyone’s ready. But you’re doing great, big guy. Keep it up.”

Without anyone of my own to bring, Henry asked cousins and uncles to stand as my best men. At least, that’s what I understood them to be. These weddings under their god have always dumbfounded me.

But it was Melina’s dream to have the full show. A large chapel, with white flowers, caged doves ready to be sent off and surrounded by her closest friends and family while she’s handed to another man.

And what Melina wants, I make sure she gets.

The chattering crowd falls silent when Henry reaches the far end of the chapel, and all eyes from the horde ahead fall on me and the priest.

Before I have any chance to feel awkward, a pipe organ rings out the first note of Richard Wagner’s Wedding March. It goes on a short while until Henry and Melina step into view.

Her snow-white dress glitters from the tiny gems running down the length. A long tail trails behind her with every step. Henry smiles at me while he leads her to the altar with slow, precise steps. And the crowd roars in admiration of my love.

But even in such an eloquent ensemble, I can’t take my eyes off her chest. The tight top of her dress squeezes her breasts until they’re nearly spilling out, no doubt due to the pregnancy making them swell.

Fuck, she’s beautiful.

Henry brings her to my side before he joins the men behind me. The priest starts his sermon, but his words fall on deaf ears. I’m locked in a trance, glued to Melina’s perfection. He has to tap me on the shoulder to snap me out of my daze when it’s my turn to say my vows.

“Do you, Malik Amine, take Melina Remington to be your wife?” he asks.

“I do.” It comes without hesitation.

So does Melina’s, when it’s her turn to answer.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

And I kiss her all right. Lost in a haze of her enchanting smile, I can’t pull myself away from her. It takes a chuckling Henry grabbing my arms and tugging me aside to break me from my trance.

“Calm down, fella. There’s old folks around,” he snickers.

But I ignore his words and take Melina’s hands in mine. I bring one to my mouth and kiss across her finger, where a ring sits and will for the rest of time.

“You are the light of my life, Melina. You’ve given me so much, and I can never repay you. But I will love you until the end of days,” I speak without care for who hears. My words turn Melina’s cheeks a dark shade of pink, tears flooding her eyelids.

“And I love you, my big, softy husband,” she teases and flings her arms around my shoulders.

I couldn’t dream of a better start to the rest of our lives.