Tania frowned. Mac’s mouth curved as he explained, “The energy exchange, remember? He’s sharing his life force, connecting to the Meridian to stabilize her bioenergy and ease her discomfort.”
“Oh, well...” She paused, glanced up at him, and...pow! He got hit with burgundy-flecked eyes and a shitload of smarts. Oh man, he was in for it now. She was doing the math, putting the complicated equations together so fast Mac swore he could see her mental wheels turning. “You held me like that. At the cabin and...before. When we were, umm, together.”
Mouth gone dry, he swallowed, wondering what to do. Come clean or lie his ass off. Lying would be easier. The problem? He didn’t want to lie to Tania. “Yeah, I touched you like that, but...I didn’t feed you. I, ah...”
She raised a brow.
Ah, fuck. Time for the reckoning.
Nervous as hell, he cleared his throat, searching for the right words. None came. And as the blankety-blank-blank clouded over mental acuity, Mac decided on the direct approach. “I connected to the Meridian through you and fed.”
“Lucky for you.”
Mac blinked, surprise giving him a major case of the stupids. “What?”
“’Cause if you’d lied to me just now? I would’ve been forced to kill you.” The corners of her mouth tipped up, but not with amusement. The expression was half self-deprecating, half-sad. “I can handle a lot of things, Mac, but lying? Not one of them.”
“Consider me warned.”
“So...” she said, her gaze probing. “Anything else you want to tell me while we’re at it?”
So many things. He wanted to crack himself wide open and confess all. The uncertainty he harbored for his—and their—future. The fact he couldn’t remember making love to her the first time. His need for her. The yearning to claim her as his own, to share himself so completely he lost sight of where he ended and she began. And as he held her hand along with her gaze, the pressure inside him geysered, pushing him toward honesty and away from self-protection.
Bizarre. Beyond scary. But more real than anything he’d ever experienced.
Taking a deep breath, Mac shored up his courage. Time to go. To get her alone. To sit down and talk...really talk. No bullshit or hedging, just honest-to-God truth shot straight from the heart. “Tania, honey, can we—”
“Hey, Mac?”
Dragging his gaze away from his female, his head snapped toward Bastian.
Wrapped around Myst, but lying in the center of the bed now, B murmured, “Find Daimler. Tell him to get everything ready.”
“For the energy-mating?”
“The ceremony just got moved up.”
With a nod, he tugged Tania toward the door. “How soon?”
“The second my female is back on her feet.”
Which wouldn’t be a minute too soon. With Myst’s pregnancy advancing, she needed a permanent connection to her mate, a magical one that would keep her bioenergy stable even when B couldn’t be with her. But beyond that, Mac didn’t know much about it. Good thing Forge did, though. His mentor understood all the ins and outs of the Dragonkind marriage ceremony. Had memorized every detail from an ancient text at the behest of his sire, in the hopes of one day mating a female of his own.
So far, that hadn’t worked out. And after the birth of his son, which had resulted in the death of his child’s mother, Forge swore he’d never try again. Time would tell the tale. But as much as Mac wanted the Scot to be happy, he didn’t hold out much hope.
For himself, either.
Jesus. He sucked at relationships. The evidence lay in the trail of women left in his wake over the years. Love ’em and leave ’em fast. His motto until meeting Tania, but as he opened the door and pulled her into the hallway behind him, Mac wondered if anything had truly changed. Was she just another in a long line of lovers? Was he capable of permanency and fidelity? Would he make her a good mate?
Tough questions. Ones he didn’t like. Each forced him to examine who and what he was. And that made his heart ache and his throat go tight.
A leopard never changed its spots. Fact. Not fiction. But as he led Tania down the hall toward the kitchen and Daimler, he prayed he could change for her. That he could become all that she needed, everything she deserved, and strike a chord.
The one called happily-ever-after.
Hope circled through him. Pragmatism pushed it aside. He wanted to do the right thing by Tania. He really did. But sensible said the past often dictated the future, and Mac knew his track record spoke volumes. None of it good.
Kneeling at the base of the marble steps, Tania fussed, adjusting the folds at the back of her best friend’s dress. With a critical eye, she tweaked each fold into place, even though the vintage Versace didn’t need it. Perfection in motion, the gown’s deep purple hue complemented Myst the way roses did Valentine’s Day.
Simple. Elegant. Gorgeous. Just like the girl she’d known since fifth grade.
Tania fluffed out the silken hem, playing until it pooled on the floor just right. The movement was nervous, more busywork than necessary, but...God. It was almost showtime. Within minutes, Myst would climb the steps, walk into the rotunda, and marry the man she loved.
Dragonkind-style.
Picking at a piece of fluff, Tania frowned and wondered—was it just her, or did the idea of exchanging vows with someone a month after meeting seem a bit, well...nuts? She couldn’t decide. Was torn between two opposing schools of thought. The first went something like...marry a man you loved? Excellent idea. Check that bad boy off the to-do list and get it done. The second, though, whispered in her ear, urging her to toss Myst into the nearest trunk, put the hammer down, and peel out of Black Diamond so fast she left rubber in the driveway.
Which was where crazy came in. At least on her part. Because marrying into a pack of dragon warriors seemed counterintuitive. Maybe even pathological.
In a flurry of movement, Tania refluffed the train of her friend’s dress. For the fifth flipping time.
“Would you stop fussing?” Myst threw a perturbed look over her shoulder. The gown’s hue picked up the lavender in her eyes, making them more violet than blue. “You’re making me crazy.”
The rumble of masculine voices drifted in from the rotunda. The quiet echo cranked Tania’s tension up another notch. The groom was there, along with the other Nightfuries, waiting for the ceremony to begin.
Another readjustment. Myst scowled at her. She ignored the scolding by glare and asked, “Are you sure you’re okay in those heels? You’re not gonna—”
“No, I’m not going to fall over...for the zillionth time.” Her friend sighed. The white roses woven into her updo shivered under the strain. “Or faint again. I’m pregnant, Tania, not sick. Now come up here before I take off my glass slipper, bash you over the head, and leave you lying unconscious on the floor.”
With a huff of amusement, Tania pushed to her feet. “Glass slipper?”
“I’m feeling a tad Cinderella-ish at the moment.”
“The violent version?”
“Cinderella 2.0...Murder Becomes Her in Fairy Tale Land.”
Lacing her fingers with her best friend’s, she grinned. As Myst returned her smile, Tania got serious again. “Are you sure about this? About Bastian and Dragonkind...all of it?”
“I love him. I want him more than I want my next breath,” Myst said, voice soft yet somehow full of unrelenting certainty. “I can’t go back. I don’t want to live without him now.”
“Worth the sacrifice?”
“Every single one.”
Throat gone tight, holding on to her tears, Tania nodded. God love her best friend. She was the bravest, smartest, most incredible woman she knew. And as she gave her hand a squeeze, she envied Myst’s certitude, the unwavering conviction that sent her friend toward love instead of away. “Good enough for me.”
“I hope so.” Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, Myst grimaced. “We need to get the show on the road. These shoes are kill
ing me.”
“Worth every sacrifice, remember?” Tania smoothed her hand over her own skirt. The bloodred silk clung, caressing her palms. Pleasure erupted, swirling through her on a wave of oh-thank-you-God. Beautiful, after all, was just that...beautiful. “Vintage gowns and three-inch heels. Like PB and J. Can’t have one without the other.”
“God help me,” Myst grumbled. “Let’s go before I start cursing like a trucker.”
With a laugh, Tania started for the stairs. Three steps up and she stood at the top, on the edge of the rotunda between two massive pillars, in plain view of the men standing beneath the dome. Illuminated by soft light thrown upward by the standing candelabras, the ceiling fresco glowed, highlighting colorful dragons in flight.
All conversation stopped.
As silence drifted on the scent of hyacinths and yellow tiger lilies, she scanned the room. Off to one side, Angela stood in a shimming gown of ice blue, Gregor-Mayhem cradled in her arms, Daimler by her side. Tania acknowledged each with a nod, then turned her attention to the Nightfury warriors. Her breath stalled in her throat. Dear lord, taken as individuals, each was gorgeous. But gathered together? They were a visual feast for the eyes, a tall, wide-shouldered, hard-bodied collection, and every girl’s wet dream.
Nerves getting the best of her, Tania twitched her skirt. Each warrior responded by bowing his head. The ceremonial navy robes they wore rasped against the floor, flowing around their bare feet, as each placed a fist over his heart and knelt, lowering to one knee on the limestone tile. Bastian alone stayed standing, his green eyes fixed on her, waiting for her to begin.
Her gaze lingered on Mac’s bent head. The sight of him helped her floundering confidence. Tania gave herself a mental nod. She could do this. Could remember everything. The right words. The proper place to stand. All the fine details of protocol. And no matter how much she disliked the scrutiny, she refused to screw up her best friend’s wedding. Myst was counting on her—had chosen her to officiate the ceremony—so...no question. She would deliver; remember everything Forge had explained, drilled her on, and made her memorize all afternoon. Be the best darned lyzemai (master of ceremony) Dragonkind had ever seen.
Leveling her chin, Tania assumed the mantle of responsibility and, tone full of authority, said, “By right, I enter unto this ceremony. The keeper of the female you wish to claim.” Her voice echoed in the vastness, whispering over the round walls before escaping through four identical archways. She held Bastian’s gaze, prolonging the moment as Forge taught her, then swept over the warriors kneeling behind their commander. “Defender of her honor. Protector unto the ages. Supreme unto this chamber and all in it. Who denies me?”
“None,” the Nightfuries said as one, deep voices intertwining into acceptance.
“So be it. The rite of passage is mine.”
Having claimed the position of lyzemai, she locked gazes with Bastian again. Her stilettos clicking against stone, she broke eye contact with the groom to complete the mandatory circuit around the room. Passing the marble columns and the mosaics of individual dragons depicted between each, she strode behind the kneeling Nightfuries, then crossed to the large disc embedded in the floor. In the center of the room, the crest sat beneath the vaulted dome, an intricate inscription in a language she didn’t know woven into its outer edges.
Stopping at its center, Tania held out her hand, palm up in invitation. Myst took the cue and, like a vision in purple silk, mounted the steps. She came forward to take Tania’s raised hand. Tania turned her to face the man she meant to marry.
Bastian’s breath caught. “Bellmia.”
“Are you worthy of the female I give unto your care?”
“No.” Bowing his head, Bastian adhered to the ritual and said, “I am unworthy.”
“And so you are.” Releasing her hand, she moved in behind Myst to unclasp her cape. With a flick, she removed the velvet and bared her best friend’s shoulders. As Daimler stepped up to take the heavy throw, she said, “But you have been chosen by this female and have now been accepted by me. Come, warrior...claim what is now yours by right.”
“Mervais, zi lyzemai,” Bastian said in Dragonese, thanking her for the privilege. Without hesitation, he stepped over the ancient inscription and into the heart of the crest.
Tears in her eyes, Myst reached for him. With a murmur, he accepted and stepped in close. The air stirred, and electrostatic current rising, he slipped his right hand into hers and cupped her cheek with the other. “My love...almost there.”
Tania’s chest grew tight as she watched them. Amazing. Heart-stopping. Beyond beautiful. She’d never seen anything like the love they shared...or their commitment to one another. She saw the way Bastian looked at her friend. Felt their connection with every breath she took. Recognized forever in Myst’s eyes and the rush of awe in her own veins.
Meant to be. These two were undeniably meant to be.
Her own tears rose. Tania pushed them away. She didn’t have time to cry. Not right now. Later would be soon enough to turn into a blubbering idiot. To rejoice in Myst’s good fortune and let the tears of happiness fall. To become her best friend again and leave the role of lyzemai behind...for good.
“Rise all,” she said. “Gather round to bear witness to this male and this female.”
Taking a calming breath, Tania paused to collect her thoughts as the Nightfuries obeyed and rose. Their bare feet whispered in the silence, and she dug deep to remember the words. Nothing surfaced. She blinked. The big blank expanded, wiping out memory. Panic grabbed hold. Mac moved into her line of sight, taking his place on the outer rim of the crest with the other warriors. His gaze met hers. He nodded, encouraging her, steadying her, the confidence in his eyes absolute.
The words popped back into her head. With a shaky exhale, she sent a silent thank-you Mac’s way, then raised her arms, held them wide, and said, “Let the covenant begin, and so to the vows, the strength of which will bind hearts, marry souls, ring throughout this chamber and upon the ages...iazen.”
The final amen echoed, rising toward the dome, and Daimler stepped forward. His head bowed, the Numbai presented her with a length of yellow ribbon. As it slid through Tania’s fingers, she approached the bride and groom and, with careful precision, threaded the silken length over and around their already intertwined right hands.
Finished tying them together, Tania stepped back to take her place outside the circle.
The second she settled, Bastian spoke, holding his female’s gaze, reciting his vows in the language of his kind. His deep voice rose and rang inside the rotunda. The inscription embedded in the floor began to glow. Like moonbeams, the illumination spread, rising up from the letters, bathing each of them with soft white light. Between one heartbeat and the next, the brilliant tendrils twisted, blew inward, ghosting across the floor to surround Bastian and Myst.
Tania’s breath caught, the beauty more than she could bear. The tears resurfaced, filling her eyes. Uncaring, she let them come and, pressing her hand over her heart, listened with profound gladness as the Nightfury commander’s vows came to a close and Myst’s began.
Strong and proud, her friend’s voice rang out, “Fate of my fate. Light of my light. Kindred of spirit without shadow or slight. You are mine. And I am yours. Two hearts intertwined, forevermore.”
As the last word was spoken, the light flared, rushing up to surround their bound hands. The ribbon ashed, falling into a wispy gray pile on the floor. Wind gusted through the room, tugging at Tania’s unbound hair. Lightning forked overhead, fracturing the gloom. Myst gasped and, wide-eyed, watched the white-hot glow encircle her index finger, then travel across the back of her hand. Intricate lines formed, an ancient tattoo inked in shimmering silver on Myst’s skin. A muscle twitched along Bastian’s jaw as identical lines burned across his knuckles.
The mating mark.
Forge nodded, a look of satisfaction on his face.
Thunder boomed, shaking the rotunda. One more crack
of lightning and...
All went quiet.
Frowning at the pale lines of his new tattoo, Bastian flexed his fist. With a laugh, Myst shook out her hand, joyful tears in her eyes.
“And you may kiss the bride,” Tania said, interjecting a human custom into the Dragonkind ceremony.
The baby cooed as Angela jostled her with an elbow and grinned. “Good one.”
“I thought so.” Returning the smile, Tania reached out to stroke G.M.’s cheek. Waving his chubby fists in the air, he squawked, talking to her baby-style. She smiled and murmured back. He was so cute: dark mohawk sticking straight up, making happy sounds, tiny feet peeking out from beneath the navy-blue outfit that matched the Nightfuries’ ceremonial robes to a T. Unable to resist, Tania rubbed the baby’s belly. “Hello, beautiful boy.”
“Lads arenea beautiful. We’re tough.” Stopping next to them, Forge held out his hands. Angela rolled her eyes but obliged, transferring G.M. into his arms. “Isnea that right, laddie?”
His focus riveted to his father’s face, the baby gurgled in agreement. A moment later he stuck his fist in his mouth and sucked on his knuckles.
“Och, now.” Cradling his son, Forge patted his small bottom and turned away, the love in his eyes unmistakable. “Hungry, are we?”
The baby kicked his legs, pumping his knees like pistons, and Tania’s chest started to ache. God, what a sight...a loving father caring for his child. What a gift. One she’d never had the privilege of experiencing, but as Forge walked away, gladness filtered through her. G.M. would never know neglect, not with Myst and the Nightfuries in his corner.
Rubbing her hand over her heart, Tania watched the pair retreat and—
A gasp sounded behind her.
Tania glanced over her shoulder and suppressed a grin. Good lord. Bastian was on the rampage, in full “just married” mode: kissing Myst deep, swinging her into his arms, heading for one of the archways.
Just before he descended the stairs, Bastian relinquished her friend’s mouth and glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t wait up. We won’t be around for a while.”
Fury of Seduction Page 28
