ra

lluses on his fingertips from his hockey stick were a rough, abrasive

ce a low, intimate caress that only I could hear

e true meaning in his perf

, a long, droning monologue ab

him. Loyalty? That word had lost all m

body. I was an observer, watchin

ficiant. My gaze began to drift, a desperate, searching scan of t

congratulatory smiles. They were the bli

art a barren wasteland. There

, my gaz

s standing. He wasn't in a designated seat but lea

couldn't hide the raw power in his frame. He didn't belong h

His face was a ma

on or blessing. His gaze was sharp, analytical, and so i

at the bride. He

eart skipped a beat. A violen

like he saw through the Vera Wang, through the perfec

possible? He

s so potent it sent a jolt of panic and, bi

h of the church, yet his gaze felt mo

. It was dangerous. But my eyes were l

Like a frozen lake reflect

re, twitch almost imperceptib

hy he was here, or why he w

new one

h the waves, he was the only person in t

ing world a strange, so

n. His grip tightened, a painful sq

my head, to face his

med. "Bradford Cohen, do you take Clara Mo

ear, and dripping with ma

sank to t

iciant turn to me. "Clar

t time to the back of the church. He was