James bit his grin back. “I appreciate that. I’d hate to kill all of Cora’s family after only just meeting them.”
She swatted at him playfully. “That goes for you as well. All happy things tonight.”
He paused before they reached entrance and faced the tiny woman with her enormous eyes, eyes that were so much like Cora’s.
“Thank you,” he said softly. “Not just for helping Cora with tonight, but for being so welcoming of me ... minus the many times you threatened to kill me.”
Tears illuminated the soft green, making them shimmer slightly over a shaky smile. “Believe it or not, you’re exactly the kind of man I’ve always wanted for her ... minus the kidnapping.”
James chuckled.
His gaze slid away towards the open door and the crowd of strangers waiting for the chance to stab him in the eye with their shrimp forks. He sucked in a breath and huffed.
“Better get this over with, huh?”
“Don’t worry.” She squeezed his arm. “I’ll protect you.”
Laughing, he turned his head back to her, prepared to thank her for her bravery, when a glint against her chest caught his eye. It immediately drew his attention to the delicately woven chain draped around her throat and settled neatly just above the swell of her breasts. But it was the fine, gold cross that held him captive.
“Captain?”
He couldn’t find words to respond. Everything about the bit of metal was common, a religious symbol that could be found in any shop, but it held him spellbound even as all the blood began to pool in his head.
“James?” Elise settled a hand on his chest. “You’ve gone very pale, are you all right?”
He ignored her.
His hand shook as he lifted it and took it gently off her skin. His lungs throbbed in panic as he held his breath, willing it to be nothing.
But he knew, even before he flipped it over, before he saw the neat inscription, he knew.
He fucking knew.
The pull was undeniable.
It was excruciating.
He could feel it as surely as an open wound across his chest.
“Where did you get this?”
He had no recollection of speaking until she was answering, “It was a gift.”
“This was Annie’s.” He restrained himself from yanking it off her neck.
“What?”
Ignoring her horrified gasp, he grabbed her arm instead.
“James, you’re hurting me!”
He ignored that too as he dragged her into a room filled with people who wouldn’t be too shy about shooting him. To her credit, Elise didn’t make a scene as he hauled her to where De Marco stood in the circle of his beloved family, the thing he’d deprived James his entire life.
De Marco saw them coming and his cool façade plummeted into one of blistering murder. He left the group and met James in two wide strides.
“Get your fucking hands off my wife,” he snarled barely beneath his breath. He grabbed Elise’s other arm and yanked her to him, putting her partially behind him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
They were drawing attention. James could feel curious eyes boring into his shoulder blades, but he didn’t give a fuck.
“You claim you have no idea who Annie was, yet your wife is wearing her necklace.” He ignored the glance De Marco cast the cross and plunged on. “It’s hers. I know, because I spent two months mowing every lawn within a twenty mile radius in scorching heat to save up to get it and have it engraved for her sweet sixteenth. She was wearing it the night she was taken, but it was inexplicably missing when you dumped her bloody, broken body back in her bed for us to find in the morning. For my mom to find.” His voice was shaking. He could hear it wavering between boiling rage and crippling emotion, but he couldn’t stop. “Did you take it off her neck before or after you and your men brutally violated her? Did you put it in your pocket and bring it home to your beautiful wife while your little girl slept upstairs, oblivious?”
“Enough!” De Marco’s snarl shredded through clenched teeth. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Beloved sister,” James murmured. “A strange thing to give your wife, don’t you think?”
Elise had gone as white as the pristine clothes on the tables. Her knuckles blazed white around the cross. Tears shivered at the corners of her glassy eyes, but she never said a word.
“We will discuss this later,” De Marco bit out. “This isn’t the time nor the place.”
“You’re right.” James nodded slowly. “Later.” He turned to Elise. “I’d like it back.”
Elise unclasped it without question. The chain and cross slithered into James’s palm, a fine puddle of gold that disappeared into his pocket.
Not trusting himself not to punch the man in the face, James walked away from the pair, ignoring the eyes following him, the curious whispers, the pointed fingers.
Fuck ‘em all.
He was leaving.
He was grabbing Cora and they would get on the boat and go wherever the fuck she wanted, but they were not staying there another night.
Nicholas appeared in front of him, a familiar face he hadn’t been expecting, blocking his path to freedom.
He stared at the man, bemused. “What are you doing here?”
Nicholas shrugged. “I heard you were having a party with wolves.”
“I’m fine.”
He shouldered past his oldest, dearest friend and continued towards the door.
“Hate to tell you, you used to be a better liar.”
Nicholas fell into step with him.
“Just get back to the ship,” James muttered. “Get ready. We’re leaving within the hour.”
That was as far as his instructions went when a hushed gasp went over the room. All heads pivoted towards the door, one by one as everyone turned to get a better look at the figure situated at its opening.
Poetry.
Every languid, flawless part of her was the written word in a language too beautiful for any mortal man. She resonated a deep, unearthly glow that outshone every woman that had ever or would ever grace the planet.
It haloed perfection.
“Do you still want the ship ready within the hour?”
He ignored Nicholas’s taunt and moved forward, his feet no longer his. They moved of their own volition, creating a path through the horde with a single minded purpose — to reach her.
She spotted him.
Her beautifully darkened eyes cut through all the faces without seeing one and latched on to his. They gleamed with an almost predatory glint that made his fucking knees weak.
“Hey,” she murmured, and maybe it was his imagination, but even her voice seemed to hum with a sultry purr.
He reached the bottom of the tier, the half circle of stairs to where she stood at the top, a radiant goddess in a single sheath of body clinging fabric that made him aware of every coveted inch of her that belonged to him.
She wore red.
The color of fire.
The color of passion.
The color of sin.
He wanted to fuck the sin out of her.
“Jesus, sweetheart.”
Her lips bowed up on one side. “I bet you say that to all the ladies.”
She accepted the hand he held out to her and let him help her down.
At that height, with about seven inches strapped to her feet, she was eyelevel ... kiss level. Her mouth, seductively painted a poppy red to match the dress was a taunting foot from him. Only, he knew if he dared, it wouldn’t be just a kiss.
It would be his hands twisting into the thin straps keeping her clothed and twisting until the fabric tore and the whole fucking thing was a crimson puddle around her ankles.
Then he’d just fuck her, right there on the steps, in front of everyone.
“Careful, Captain,” she drawled low enough for his ears only. “You’re going to make me blush.”
“Fuck me,”
he breathed.
She bit her lip and brushed past him, close enough that her fingers ghosted the hard crotch of his pants in passing. Smokey eyes bore into his, mercilessly devious.
“Oh, I intend to. All night.”
Then she was sweeping into the waiting arms of her family as they flocked around her, closing her into their circle and whisking her deeper into the room.
James remained there, back to the room as he struggled to regulate the blood away from his cock before he poked someone’s eye out.
“That was close.” Nicholas wandered over to his side. “Things were getting dangerously R-rated there for a second.”
“Shut up.”
Nicholas smirked. “Was going to break out the hose, but you might have liked that.”
Despite himself, James laughed. “Prick.”
He turned to watch Cora’s progression through the room. Someone was constantly grabbing her and hugging her and passing her along to someone else. But she seemed to enjoy it; her smile was a blinding force straining across her face.
The room had been set up with tables around the edges and the middle left open for dancing. A live band sat patiently waiting for their cue at the head while a whole buffet was set in six long lines along the final wall.
The simplicity ended there.
He hadn’t noticed during his entrance or after, but he took a moment to study the rows of intertwined streamers of burgundy and gold looped across the ceiling and contained in a complex bundle of balloons and shiny ribbons. Everything held the same coloring, the deep mystery of dark purple with the classy glitter of gold. It sat in slender glass vases of water on the table tops, and accented the drapes over the French doors leading out into the gardens. No artificial lights were lit, the whole room was lit up by candlelight, creating an almost mystical sensation.
It suited Cora.
“I’m here!”
Deidra burst into the room in a flurry of burgundy and panic. Her heels skidded as she threw herself down the steps. Nicholas barely caught her before she could break an ankle.
Cursing and panting, she righted herself, dragging the insanely revealing scraps of fabric practically falling off her back into place. She fluffed a hand through sleek, black strands and dragged something out of her ass crack.
“Christ,” she muttered, palming her own breasts and adjusting them more properly behind the triangle cut of her bodice, a bodice that plunged partway to her navel. “That’s the last time I dress in a cab. Bastard almost ran us into a pole twice.”
“Need help?” Nicholas muttered, watching her hands lift and jiggle her boobs into place.
Deidra’s head came up. Her feline gaze met his. One eyebrow lifted as she took him in from head to toe with unhurried interest.
“You can help me out of it later.” She checked her watch. “In three hours. But you only have twenty minutes so you better be ready.”
Just like that, she pushed past them and hurried to intercept Cora.
Neither he nor Nicholas moved for several long minutes.
“Did ... did that just happen?” Nicholas mumbled with wonderment.
James shrugged. “She’s a bit ... older, isn’t she?”
Nicholas squinted thoughtfully. “Maybe I’ll like older?”
That conversation ended when Elise took the stage, looking more put together as she peered over the crowd. She smiled and waved to a few people before bringing the mic to her mouth.
“Thank you all for coming.” Her voice boomed over the room. “It’s been too long since we were all under the same roof.” She paused as murmurs of agreement filled the room. “It’s been an exciting year for many of us. Gloria and Thomas had their little girl. Uncle Paul got released from prison. Glen and Troy made their first hit.” She nodded as claps and cheers went up. “So, it’s truly a pleasure to add our special news to the list, to announce that our lovely Cora has married the dear Captain James Crow.” She beamed as the applause grew louder. “Giovanni and I couldn’t be happier. He’s an amazing man, and he’s already been properly warned not to break her heart.”
“I think that’s your cue,” Nicholas muttered when the laughter began and Cora started getting nudged towards the stage.
James hesitated, rebelling at the idea of being in perfect position to get shot at.
But Cora was ascending the steps. She made her way to where her mother waited with open arms and stepped into them.
James muttered a curse, and a silent prayer, before making his way forward.
No one shot at him.
Not even when he reached the top and Elise took his hand. She gave it a squeeze.
Comforting.
Supportive.
All the things he didn’t deserve considering how he’d treated her.
She put Cora’s hand into his, held them together a full second, then released and stepped aside, leaving them alone before the horde.
“Do we wave?” he muttered from the corner of his mouth.
“I have no idea,” Cora replied through a massive, Beauty Queen Pageant smile. “Did you prepare the speech?”
James bulked. All pretenses of order and calm vanished into panic.
“What? No!”
Cora peeked at him from the corner of her eyes and grinned mischievously.
She laughed.
“Witch!”
With a playful growl he pulled her to him and kissed that delicious mouth, unable to contain himself any longer. He bit her lip until she moaned and went lax in his arms.
The crowd erupted on a flurry of whistles and cat calls, but neither noticed.
“I’m going to ruin you later,” he vowed against her hot skin.
She made a palpable sound he took as agreement.
Then Elise was there, touching them both on the backs and urging them apart.
“Let’s keep it PG-13, hmm?” she whispered for their ears only as she led them across the stage to a section off to one side containing a long table cloaked in white.
There were only two chairs, both draped in burgundy covers. James pulled out one for Cora before accepting the other for himself.
The applause continued until they were both seated. The band was struck and the first soothing note of flutes and violins sang through the room.
He didn’t understand the purpose of being on a pedestal while everyone else mingled and enjoyed themselves.
“What now?” he asked the woman next to him.
“This is it,” she murmured. “We wait until everyone has eaten, then we start the first dance.”
James stiffened. “Dance?”
Cora peered at him. “Yeah, can you dance?”
James hissed through his teeth and shrugged. “Well, I guess you’re going to have to find out.”
Her answer was a gentle shoulder bump.
An older woman was led to the table, stooped in half over a cane and clutching the hand of a teenage girl.
Cora leaped to her feet and scrambled down to meet them.
“Grandma Sage!”
The woman pushed herself up enough to accept Cora’s embrace.
“I can’t believe you came.” Cora pulled back to wipe her eyes. “I was going to come around and see everyone.”
The woman shook her graying head. “You are the bride. You let them come to you.”
Cora sniffled and gripped the arm the girl wasn’t holding. “I’m so happy to see you. How was your flight? Oh!” She seemed to remember James. “Grandma, this is my husband, James.”
James left his seat and came down to stand at Cora’s side.
“Ms. Sage.”
The woman squinted up at him through cloudy eyes. “You are the pirate.”
It wasn’t a question, but he nodded. “Yes ma’am.”
“Pirate.” She spat the word with a dramatic huff. “You don’t look like a pirate.”
James struggled with keeping his features polite. “I thought I’d go without the wooden leg and parrot tonight.”
The girl giggled, but quickly covered it behind a cough.
“Pirate,” grandma Sage muttered again. “Better keep an eye on this one,” she told Cora. “He looks like trouble.”
Cora bit her lip. “Oh, I intend to, a very close eye.”
Grandma Sage grunted, then motioned the girl to lead her away.
“I don’t think she liked my profession,” James mused.
Cora took his arm and threaded it with hers. “She was seduced by a pirate once, so she claims. He broke her heart.”
“Ah!” James said as it finally made sense.
“She’s worried you’ll break mine.”
The soft way she said it had his head tilting in her direction. Her gaze met his, the question in them baffling him.
“I shouldn’t have yours to break,” he reminded her quietly.
He saw the moment his words seemed to pierce through her, saw the eruption of pain before her lashes slipped into place and she turned her head away.
“Cora?”
She didn’t look at him, and when he ghosted a feather light caress down her arm, she flinched and drew the arm closer to her body.
“I’m going to do a round,” she rasped out. “I won’t be long.”
He watched her go, watched her melt into the crowd. He remained where he was wondering what the hell just happened.
“Women are so fickle.” Sylvester took the spot Cora had evacuated, a small plate of those shrimp paste things in hand. “You throw them a lavish party and they still aren’t happy.”
James hadn’t seen the man since that dinner, but his face had recovered. It was still too many sharp angles, but it wasn’t broken.
Unfortunately.
“What do you want?”
James turned his head back to where Cora was surrounded by a group of women all laughing and admiring her dress.
“We’re not so different,” Sylvester assessed. “We both want the same thing, in this case, Cora’s wellbeing.”
“If that’s a threat...”
“Jesus, no!” The man laughed. “She’s my niece. I love her. But I know how stubborn she can be. How willful, you know?”
James said nothing.
Part of him wasn’t even listening.
Whatever the man wanted, he would eventually either come out and say it, or he’d fuck off. James didn’t have the patience to indulge him when he was still trying to work out what that business was with Cora. Was she implying she loved him?
Blood Script Page 37
