Pack Princess (Paranormal Shapeshifer BBW Romance): (Devil Riders MC) (6 page)

“Evva, I'm coming in.”

“I said I need time.” She glanced around the room in a panic, now wishing for a window or some way to escape.

The door swung open, and Gigi entered. Frustration was visible on her features, matching the tone of her voice. “What’s going on in here?” She shut the door, leaving a wide-eyed Lainie outside the room.

“I…” She gulped and glanced away from Gigi, her gaze travelling all over the room only to stop at the leather bracelet she placed next to her “something blue” garter on the sofa chair.

Razor.

Anguish clasped around her heart, holding tight. She swallowed hard and met Gigi’s worried frown. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Gigi watched her for a moment before glancing at the leather bracelet herself. “This isn’t like you, Evva. You might bitch and complain,” she said with a grin. “But you always do what you have to. What’s really wrong?”

“If I marry Chip…” She inhaled, choking back tears. Her heart ached, the pain excruciating. If she married Chip, then there was no chance of her
Happily Never After
with Razor. “I’ll never be happy.”

Gigi marched closer, wrapping her arms around her in a fierce, sisterly hug. “Honey, don’t think that way. You don’t know that for sure.”

She nodded, the tears rushing down her eyes and messing up the makeup artist’s hard work. “I do know that.”

“How?” Gigi pushed back, her gaze bored into Evva’s intently. “What aren’t you telling me?”

She blinked repeatedly, trying to stop the flow of tears. This was pathetic. She was uber-bitch pack princess. She never cried. Ever. Except now, she couldn’t seem to stop. “I met someone.”

Gigi’s eyes widened the same moment she gasped. “When?”

“The night we went out.” She turned away from Gigi, moving to the sofa and holding Razor’s bracelet in one hand. It made her feel better to have it with her. She didn’t feel so alone.

“When you left us in the bar and disappeared?” Gigi’s tone wasn’t accusing, more probing.

She nodded, glancing down at her lap. “I met my mate,” she pushed the words through her tear clogged throat. “But worse than that, I fell in love.”

“Oh, Evva.” Gigi dropped down, squatting in front of her. “Maybe if we talk to your dad, if we explain things…”

She shook her head, not caring about the intricate hairdo with the tiara holding her curls up. “No. I’ve spoken to him. This is what needs to happen.” She sniffled, wiping the tears with the back of her hand until Gigi moved away and handed her some tissues.

“I’m so sorry,” Gigi patted her shoulder in comfort.

She wiped the moisture from her eyes. It sucked, but she already knew this was coming. She couldn’t find it in her to care about the ruined makeup. Or what others might think when they saw she’d been crying. All she wanted was to get the whole thing over with already.

Standing, she took a deep breath, wrapping the bracelet around her wrist and locked it in place. She might never get Razor, but she'd carry him around with her forever.

“I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

It was all systems go from that point. Gigi took over like a human...or wolf...dynamo, the makeup artist was brought back in, and within minutes, Evva was ready to go, the image of the blushing bride.

She and her father stood at the door to the church, the strains of the bridal march filtering to them. The music sounded so far away, and when she let herself, she floated free. It was easier this way, like she was watching someone else get married.

Her father led her down the aisle, but she kept her eyes down all the way, only looking up to spot Chip standing before the altar. Waiting for her. He was all smiles. He should be,
daddy’s little boy gone done good
. This marriage would make their combined pack the most powerful across the eastern seaboard.

She reached the altar, unable to focus on anything but the flowers on the damn thing. The pastor frowned, but at a nudge from her father, started the service. Squeezing her bouquet to death, she tuned it out. Only half-listened to the words being said. Her mind took her back to the night with Razor.

“Before we proceed, if anyone here knows any reason why these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace...”

She held her breath at the words. Her heart paused painfully in her chest. This was it. This was the last point that something could stop the wedding.

“Yes. I do.”

Chapter Five

Evva’s gasp was echoed by the congregation as all eyes turned to the back of the church. A familiar, broad-shouldered figured filled the doorway.

Razor.

Her heart turned over in her chest as she lifted her hand to cover her mouth, in case she cried out for him. This was her wild dream, her hope. That he’d find a way to come and rescue her from the travesty of a loveless marriage.

As much as she wanted it though, yearned for it and dreamed of it, she knew it could never be. She frowned. This wasn’t quite the way she’d dreamed it.

Instead of the leathers she’d envisioned him arriving in, he wore a tuxedo, and his hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail.

“Oh my,” a feminine voice muttered to her left. “He can ride to my rescue any time.”

Evva fought back the snarl in her throat. Razor wasn’t hers to be jealous over. So why was he here?

The pastor cleared his throat, looking over his glasses at the intruder. “And your reason would be?”

Razor swept a glance over the guests, focusing on Chip’s side of the church. “The contract between the Rasmussen and Castillo pack state that the respective first-borns will wed at a mutually agreeable time. However, the groom is
not
the Rasmussen first-born.”

Her gaze jerked to her left, to a visibly pale ready-to-pass-out Chip. He wasn't first born? What the hell was going on?

Her father wasn’t slow on the uptake either. Stepping forward, he glared at Chip and his father. “What the hell is going on, Rasmussen?” He gestured toward Razor. “Who the hell is this?”

“Let me answer that, since the only time my father is telling the truth is when he’s not speaking.” Razor’s long stride ate up the aisle as he walked toward them. Finally he was there, just a few steps away, and her heart felt like it would burst out of her chest.

“I’m Casey Rasmussen, first born of the Rasmussen pack.” He didn’t spare his father or any of his family a single glance as he spoke, but Evva caught Chip’s flinch at the words. “When I disagreed with my father on the direction the pack should take after I left the service, we had a parting of ways.”

“It doesn’t matter!” Chip and Razor’s father broke in. “Dale is the pack heir.
My
heir. The marriage will go ahead.”

“Ah, no.” Evva’s father held up his hand. “The contract clearly states that the union is between the first-born children,
nothing
was said about heirs.”

Razor—wait—he'd said his name was Casey. Didn't matter. He'd always be Razor to her. He said he was the Rasmussen first born. That meant...

“I'm willing to go ahead with the wedding,” she interrupted the arguing, her gaze locked on Razor. “With the Rasmussen first born. And
only
the first-born, as stated in the contract.”

“B-but—” Chip’s father tried to break in, but she shot him a hard look.

“Unless, of course, you wish to be found in default?” she asked, which meant that the other pack would lose a shitload of property and land-rights to the Castillos.

The shock on the elder Rasmussen’s face was pure gold. Evva stood her ground to glare him down, aware of her father flanking her on one side and Razor on the other. They’d have her back. Supporting her as she made her first stand for her pack, her life, and her own happiness.

“No...no,” Rasmussen inclined his head, signaling for Chip to back away. Good. He needed to, because she was all sorts of ready to rip his throat out if he dared to argue.

Her father grabbed her arm, tugging softly to get her attention.

She glanced at him. The usual self-assured smile he'd given her for the past few days was replaced with dipping brows and eyes filled with doubt.

“Dad?” She turned to him fully. Worry hit her that this showdown had changed his mind about her marrying a Rasmussen.

He pulled her a few steps away, his gaze travelling back and forth between her and Razor.

“Are you sure about this?” Concern deepened the lines on his face.

“We have a contract,” she answered, not wanting to go into the whole conversation about meeting Razor days back and their night of wild sex.

“I know, sweetheart, but I don't know this Casey person. I can't guarantee he'll treat you the way Dale would have.”

She followed her father's gaze to Razor. He stood there. Watching her. Waiting.

“He won't treat me like Chip would have.” She smiled, heart filling with anticipation. “That's why I want to do this. I want to marry him.”

“I don't understand,” he said, confused. He stared at her for a moment, but must have seen some of her feelings for Razor in her eyes. Understanding smoothed the concern on his face. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and sighed. “No, I do understand.”

The fear she'd held on to about marrying the Rasmussen first-born disappeared. Now she wanted to rush over and say the words to make them man and wife.

A quick glance at her father got her a nod, and she turned, reaching Razor’s side in a matter of steps.

“Ready to be mine, Princess?” He smiled, that little quirk of his lips that she loved, and held his hand out.

She grinned, placed her fingers in his, and turned to the pastor. “Marry us. Now.”

***

“Fuck’s sake, Razor...you didn’t tell me you were some big-pack kid.”

Razor turned to find Cuffs balancing two beers and a bowl of peanuts. Deftly, he recovered the bowl before the contents could end up over one of the other guests. Cuffs could take down anyone in a fight and with a throwing knife, he was beyond beating. But balance when carrying things wasn’t his strong point.

“Sit down before you end up wearing that,” Razor ordered, putting the peanuts down on a nearby table before liberating the drink from his friend's hand. “And I’m not some big-pack kid. Not anymore.”

“You sure about that, bro?” Cuffs lifted an eyebrow, glancing around the room.

The word ‘swanky’ didn’t do the reception justice. The whole place, decorated in creams and golds, screamed money, and not just any money—old family money. Old
pack
money. And that was even more apparent in the guests. Hell, there were more designer labels in evidence than a London Fashion Show, and the amount of high-class jewelry on display would put any couture jewelers to shame.

Razor shrugged, wrinkling his nose as the tux shifted over his shoulders. He hadn’t worn a damn penguin suit since he was what...sixteen or something? The rest of the club appeared just as uncomfortable stuffed into their rented tuxes.

Apart from Scales, who was ripping it up on the dance floor. Literally. His jacket was gone, and he’d just torn the arms off his shirt, throwing them aside to beckon to one of the gaggle of women across the other side of the room. Razor sighed. There was one deposit they weren’t getting back. That wasn’t the worst of it. Scales was as short-sighted as fuck without his prescription shades on, so he’d come onto anything female, no matter if she was married or not.

“Get someone to go and rein Scales in before he hits on the wrong girl and causes a pack war, will you?” he grumbled, his gaze following the dragon's to the other side of the room.

The giggling women surrounded a vision in white. His princess. His bride. His wolf stopped pacing within, it’s attention focused on the woman who had stolen their attention that night in the bar and his heart by morning.

Cuffs snorted in his beer when he spotted Scales, levering himself up. “On it, boss.”

Razor nodded, sitting there nursing his beer and watching his bride. She seemed happy, her high-pitched laughter as she chatted with her friends reaching him all the way over here. His wolf wuffled happily, the creature’s contentment wrapping itself around Razor’s heart.

Riding away from her that morning had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. He’d really thought he could do it. Walk away from her like he had every other one-night stand. Somehow though, his princess had gotten herself under his defenses and wound herself around his heart. Somewhere between trying to make her run in the bar and the scorching sex they’d had in the shower that morning, he’d fallen hard and fast.

Finding out that she was a Castillo, due to be married to his little brother Dale, had been the final piece of the puzzle. In that instant, he knew what he had to do. Go home. He’d left after war had changed him, given him a strength of mind his father couldn’t handle, and no threat, no promise of guilt trip had brought him back to his pack.

Only Evva and the fact that she was to wed the Rasmussen first-born could do that.

There had been just one problem; no one had seen fit to invite him to his own damn wedding. So he’d invited himself.

The sound of a throat clearing beside him made him turn around. His expression set. Speak of the devil and he shall appear. His father

“What do you want, old man?” he growled, grip tightening around his beer. “And make it snappy, before you piss me off. I’d hate to ruin Evva’s day by getting blood on the wedding decorations.”

Kurt Rasmussen shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Look, Casey…”

“It’s Razor now.”

“Erm...Razor,” Kurt corrected, the scent of desperation rolling from him in waves. “We need to talk. I need to know what your intentions are—”

Razor’s eyebrow winged up. “Intentions? You mean other than to find my bride and claim her?”

Kurt shook his head, color rising high above the collar of his monkey suit. His gaze flicked from Razor to something behind him. Turning, Razor spotted his brother Dale, lurking in the wings. As soon as he met Dale’s eyes, the younger wolf looked away. Wouldn’t hold his gaze.

They were scared. Shit scared because he was back. A slow smile worked its way over Razor’s lips. “You think I want to claim the pack.”