A Valentine from Harlequin

Charlotte cried. She gripped the priest’s arms and helped him to stand. “Please, do it now!”
    John made a frantic search of the dark kitchen, dashing to the counter where florists had been preparing the flower arrangements earlier. He gathered bits of damaged calla lilies and shredded leaves into his frantic fingers then shoved the makeshift bouquet at Charlotte. “Can you forgive me for being so stubborn about the priest?”
    She wanted to grab him and kiss him, but the doors to the kitchen were starting to splinter and bulge inward. “Forgiven. Hurry,” she ordered, giving the priest a rough shove.
    “Dearly beloved—”
    “Skip the prologue and get to the necessary stuff.” John tugged Charlotte over to the patio doors and opened them. A small breeze brought in the scent of the fragrant gardens, and the dazzling moonlight fell upon their joined hands. No sign of the living dead stalking the rosebushes. Yet. “Father, hurry up!”
    “Do you take this man to be your wedded husband?”
    “I do!” Charlotte sucked in the corner of her lip, eyeing the kitchen doors. The groans on the other side were increasing.
    “And do you take this woman—”
    “Yes, yes, I do. Always and forever, no matter what the world forces upon us.” John squeezed her hands, sending bits of calla lilies across her gown. “I love you, Charlotte Masterson.”
    Her new surname suited her perfectly. John’s calmness centered her, bringing her into the moment. She would remember this moment always, the moonlight, the adoration on John’s face—
    The kitchen doors smashed inward. Wood shards scattered. A horde of zombies stalked clumsily inside.
    The priest shouted, “I now pronounce you man and wife, may no man put asunder—”
    John swept Charlotte into his embrace. He kissed her deeply, lovingly, perfectly. And there, amidst the full moon’s spotlight, they became man and wife—till death did part them.
    The priest’s dying yell didn’t disturb their kiss. Charlotte clung to her husband’s hard muscles. She could cling to him forever.
    She felt his desire harden against her thigh.
    “I want you so badly,” he said, his dark eyes arrowed onto hers. An intensely dark beauty unlike any she’d seen captured his features and Charlotte wanted to touch him, hold him, please him. “Your skin. Your taste. Your…flesh. I need you. Now.”
    She understood. She wanted to strip him bare and love him passionately for the first time. She prayed it wouldn’t be the only time.
    “They’ve killed the priest,” she said.
    “They’ll go to hell for that.”
    She didn’t even notice his gallows humor as she fell into his mesmerizing gaze. The sounds of hungry monsters segued to the background, her pounding heartbeat surging to the fore.
    “Let’s find a place to be alone,” he said. “I crave you, Charlotte.”
    “You’re skin, it’s so hot, John. You’re like…a beast.”
    “A beast who needs you, only you.”
    John tugged her out into the garden as the swing of a zombie’s arm clocked Charlotte on the shoulder. Her party dress tore, leaving behind a slimy trail on her skin. John dodged the zombie that stalked toward them.
    The creatures were much more stealthy than Charlotte had expected of the living dead. They lumbered, but quickly, and their arm and leg movements were fast. Their faces were whitish blue and their lips black; some had blood smeared on their faces and hands. Intelligence glimmered in their eyes. These were not mindless things, just as John had warned her.
    “How could they have gotten here? I thought the outbreak was contained,” she said. “Doesn’t your research—”
    “There are nests everywhere, and our research is just that, Charlotte. We’ve only begun to study the ones we have. They can speak, but they won’t speak to us, slowing the progress of our research.”
    John swung Charlotte into his arms and leaped over a woman in white chiffon, crawling along the ground as she tried to get to her detached arm. It seemed to have a mind of its own as the fingers dragged it toward the lily pad–dotted koi pond.
    As soon as they were in a protected spot, John set her down, planting his hands on the wall behind her and pressing his body against hers. Aggressive and determined, he bit kisses down her neck and to her breasts.
    “You’re so lusty, John.”
    “I need you. Mmm, your skin is so salty.”
    Charlotte ripped open his black shirt and ran her hands up his chest. Hot and sweaty