Drake Sisters 05 - Safe Harbor

jewels on her wedding gown. The scars on her face and throat had faded to faint white lines, barely discernable, but it wouldn't have mattered if they hadn't. To him, she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Her father put her hand in his and Jonas closed his fingers tightly around hers, drawing her close to him. Emotional or not, he was damned if he was going to cry—Jackson would never let him hear the end of it—
    but he knew that moment would be forever in his mind. Hannah joining her life to his.
    So fine, his eyes burned and filled up, but really, who gave a damn? Hannah was finally his.
    All of his life, Jonas had tried to be careful to keep her from feeling the emotions that often dominated his existence. Not today. Today he wanted to share every feeling—
    the rich fullness—the overflowing happiness. She had been there through his mother's illness and death and when he'd been shot. Through some of the darkest moments in his life. Now he wanted to share the best moment with her. He could never express in words what she meant to him, but Hannah was an empath and she could feel it.
    She looked up at him and her eyes were swimming with tears. I love you, too .
    Jonas listened to the ceremony, every sacred word, but all he could see was Hannah.
    The sun shone on her, colors danced around her, even her aura was present, a prism that glowed around her in rainbow colors.
    Baby, did you know that you can taste happiness?
    She blinked up at him, a slow smile curving her mouth. Can you? What does it taste like ?
    You. All hot and sweet and exciting. Mysterious. A combination of flavors.
    She glanced at the minister and murmured an appropriate response, even as color swept up her neck and into her face. You're trying to make me hot and bothered .
    He grinned at her. I wasn't, but now that you mention it, just what are you wearing under that dress ? I don't see a panty line .
    She nearly choked, covered it with a cough.
    And then he was sliding his ring on her finger. Saying the words to make her his wife.
    Meaning them. The ring on his finger, a never-ending circle, felt solid and right. His heart jumped in his chest when the minister pronounced them man and wife.
    Jonas turned to her, looked down at her, his hands framing her face so he could look into her eyes. "Forever, Hannah. For always." He bent his head slowly to hers, forgetting everyone, everything around him. His entire world narrowed to one woman.
    Hannah Drake Harrington. His lips moved over hers, feather-light. Seduction in its most elegant form. His kiss was gentle, tender, infinitely loving.
    They turned toward their family and friends, sharing their happiness. The applause rang out, music blared and the party started.
    Jonas greeted a hundred people, accepting congratulations, all the while keeping Hannah close to him. She smiled and murmured softly in response, appearing gracious and relaxed, but he was very aware how difficult it was for her. Often his hand moved up to the nape of her neck, easing the tension out of her with a slow massage. He bent his head to brush a kiss across the top of her head.
    "Congratulations," a male voice repeated, drawing his attention back to the waiting line.
    Jonas automatically shook hands, but then gripped Ilya Prakenskii's hand before he could let go. "You have a lot of nerve showing up here. There's law enforcement everywhere. Are you looking to get arrested?"
    Prakenskii's eyebrow shot up. "For what? They're welcome to take me in, but they have no proof of any wrongdoing."
    Jonas glanced around and lowered his voice. "You were on that yacht. You got there before us and somehow managed to kill Karl Tarasov and take his place. You were the one who killed Boris and you did it so I wouldn't."
    "Did I? I have no recollection of this event," Prakenskii said.
    "I looked into your eyes, Ilya. Straight into them. I've heard of your ability to become a chameleon, to be anyone, but you can't hide your eyes. Color maybe, but not that intensity. And, you son of a bitch, you hit me." Jonas rubbed his jaw.
    A hint of amusement crossed the Russian's face. "If such a thing had occurred, I'm certain the women in your family would give you adequate sympathy.
    Congratulations on your marriage. I must go annoy the sister of your bride by forcing her to dance with me once before I leave. I wish you long life and much happiness."
    "Be careful, Prakenskii. Whatever you're into, it's very dangerous. Nikitin acts like a lamb, but