by Marie Wathen
“Hello, Mother.”
“I’m surprised to see you here tonight. Especially with the way you’ve neglected WC recently,” she scolds, leaning in to place a faint kiss against each of my cheeks.
“There’s no way I would miss Gran and Granddad’s anniversary party, Mother. Besides, I’m sure Barret filled you in on what transpired between us.”
“Yes, and we both know that your father can be a troublesome man at times.” Is she kidding? “But, I need for you to be the bigger person here, Son. You must find him and rectify the situation tonight.” Her voice is controlled, but the look in her eyes is a complex swirl of fear and anguish.
“Mother, I know that you want what’s best for me, but he’ll never accept anything I have to offer. Face the facts: we’re finished and I’m not coming back to WC.”
“That’s preposterous. You belong there a hell of a lot more than…anyone,” she growls, clutching her tiny hand around my forearm.
“No, I’ve spoken with Granddad, and I won’t be returning,” I reiterate. Although Granddad’s offer is an open-ended invitation, I’ve made up my mind that I will not be returning.
“Fine,” she relents. “Will you at least make an effort to speak with your father and resolve some of the bitterness between you?”
“For you, I’ll talk with him, but I can’t guarantee success.”
“Fair enough, Son.” She smiles, but her eyes are dull with the unresolved relationship between me and my father. “Where is your date?”
Her question catches me off-guard and I stammer, “I…I wasn’t aware that I required a woman for tonight’s events.”
“Darling, I was hoping that you would have asked Elise to accompany you tonight.” She glances around the room, missing my confused look.
“That ship has sailed,” I tell her before sipping my beer.
She whips her head around and glares at me. “No, you will make things better with your father and then Elise will be yours once again.”
“I don’t want either,” I counter.
Before she can reply, a small group approaches and she quietly slips away. I know Haleigh Walker well enough to expect more of the same coercions the next time we meet up. Tristan, with his mask splayed across the top of his head, pressing down his wild hair, smirks and reaches a hand out toward me.
“Boney,” he chuckles while squeezing my hand and wrapping an arm around me in a hug. The nickname is one he pulled from the archives. When we were kids, he ragged me for being so damn skinny. I guess that is one thing he will never forget or stop giving me hell about.
“Trist, you’re looking good,” I admit, seeing that he doesn’t look like someone who was shot in the head. Hell, he actually looks better than he ever has, which is shocking. I would have thought by now he would remember Anna and feel miserable while looking like death warmed over.
“I’ve had the best week, brother, and tonight is going to be epic,” he gloats, releasing me from his hold and wrapping a large arm around the small waist of his date. The flaming red hair pulled up into a perfect up-do couldn’t belong to anyone except for the fiery redhead my mother thinks I should marry.
“Elise,” I acknowledge, smiling cordially down at her blazing eyes.
“Morgan,” she offers curtly.
“Hey, man,” says the voice behind the silver mask, belonging to Kole. “Is your brother here, yet? I have been trying to reach him all day.”
Shaking my head, I reply, “I haven’t noticed, but I’ve been talking and not really looking.”
“Well, damn,” he huffs. Something about Kole’s demeanor tonight is off. The guy is a bouncing maniac most of the time, reminding me of a ticking time bomb. Tonight, however, he appears subdued and anxious. “What about Sam?”
“Nope,” I say, glancing down at the woman standing closely beside him. “Have we met?” I glance from her to Kole and he twists his head around to look at her.
“Sorry,” he apologizes to both of us, taking her by the elbow. “This is Candy.”
“Candy?” I repeat, shocked by her being here.
“Hi, Morgan,” Candy smiles sweetly while staring up at me through her tiny white mask. “I met Kole at the gym last week.”
“She’s told me about how you guys met,” Kole explains further.
“That could be dangerous,” I respond to her flagrant disregard of strangers knowing about her past or the killers hunting for her.
Offering me a private wink, she clarifies, “Kole thought it was cool that we shared a body shot in Vegas before you returned home.” I twitch an eyebrow up and she nods slightly, letting me in on her little secret.
So she only told him about our encounter and nothing more. I guess maybe she is smarter than I give her credit for. Having a cop as a friend to help protect her from paid assassins is bloody brilliant, too, even if she doesn’t know his real job. Scanning the remainder of the group, I nod toward Raithe standing beside a sexy brunette, camouflaged by her large Mardi Gras-style mask, so I’m not sure if I know her. Behind them, Sam, escorted by Rhys, strolls through the door and joins us.
“Has Marcus arrived yet?” she asks and everyone shakes their heads or offers a no. Sam beams and whispers, “Goodie!”
“Is something going on?” I question, seeing her overly excited by our brother’s appearance tonight.
“Just can’t wait to see his date.” She winks and I nod, remembering her shopping trip with Breesan. She’s eager about seeing the final product. “Kole.” Her excitement drops when she turns to her team member and cryptically asks, “Did you tell him about…?” I glance up and she mouths, “The boxes.”
With a shake of his head, Kole replies, “I haven’t had a chance.” What boxes is she talking about? “He is going to be so pissed off.”
“He sent my boys home early tonight,” Raithe defends. “They didn’t notice anyone around this week.”
“Motherfucker,” Sam growls, running a hand down the side of her face and cupping her jaw. With Rhys’ tug on her arm, she glances around and adds, “Sorry, ladies.” Elise dismisses her apology with an arched eyebrow and Raithe’s date doesn’t acknowledge it at all, but Candy smiles at Sam, offering a small head nod. “Well, let’s wait until after the party to tell him,” she tells both of the guys.
Rhys says, “Yeah, there’s nothing that can be done about it now anyway.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask my sister who twists around, facing me with pinched down eyebrows.
“It’s nothing,” she says flatly, pulling a straight face while glancing between the outsiders who are paying close attention to their conversation and I nod.
“Seen Bates?” Tristan asks me after feeling the awkward silence rapidly building everyone’s uneasiness.
“It’s kind of hard to tell who’s who with these damn masks on, Bubba,” I remind him, pointing at the shield on my face, and he shrugs with a chuckle that sounds just like Granddad’s.
“You should see how hot his babe is, damn,” Tristan states. “Wren, I think is what he said her name is. She’s so fine that Granddad is actually sipping on a bottle of shut-up juice and not giving Bates a hard time anymore.” This makes everyone laugh except for me. Missing my little star, my heart thuds hard, but not wanting to look like a total bastard, I try to shake it off.
After a few minutes of casual conversations, our group breaks up to mingle with other guests or to escort their dates out to the dance floor. Kole and Candy join me back at the bar, and I notice that Tox is no longer working it. Damn, I hate that I may have missed my shot at getting information out of him about the location of Anna and Waverly. His suspicious attitude and deflective conversation assures me that he knows. Time to relay my hunch to Marcus, I decide.
An hour later, the beer is numbing my brain appropriately, and I don’t feel so pathetic being the only one without a date. Propped on the barstool, I glance over my shoulder and spot my grandparents speaking with Sam a few feet away. The way they’re smiling a
nd jovially talking with Rhys, you’d think he was royalty. As their conversation ends, Gran gives Rhys a sweet embrace and I overhear Granddad calling him Son. I down my drink and immediately order another. So much weird shit is happening, I can’t keep up and really at this point, I don’t want to.
“Hi, Morgan?” I twist around and find the beautiful woman from earlier standing behind me, chewing on her bottom lip.
“Jama, right?” She releases the imprisonment on her pout and smiles bashfully while nodding.
“I’m dying to dance and don’t really know that many people here. The one person I thought about asking brought a date so…” she trails off, blushing.
“Don’t say another word,” I tell her, smiling. “I’m without a date this evening, as well, and I would be happy to join you on the dance floor.” I offer my elbow and we find our groove quickly, mixing with a hundred swaying and bouncing couples. I find myself smiling and distracted from the onslaught of misery within just a few minutes of swinging Jama across the room.
Chapter Twenty-One
Breesan
With a migraine threatening to steal the joy out of tonight’s celebration and feeling like I’m drowning in a pool of self-pity, I glare accusingly at the beautiful designer gown hanging on the back of my closet door mockingly. I’m fighting against an overwhelming temptation to say screw it all and crawl under the covers, hiding out alone rather than mingling in disguise as Beatrice with a bunch of strangers that I don’t really care about. However, if I mess up the big, beauty-queen-style hair-do that Sam worked almost two hours on earlier, she will kick my ass. She and Kole were acting strangely when they left this afternoon, too, and neither wanted to share what the hell that was all about. I hate that they’re still keeping me in the dark.
Blaming one hundred percent of my bad mood on my silly loneliness and because I still haven’t heard from Marcus, I huff audibly and cross the room into my bathroom, searching out pain relievers. After downing a couple of small pills, and having a pointless pep talk with the girl in the mirror, I remind myself that if Anna could, she would tell me that I can’t miss the Walker’s anniversary celebration. She would understand that I’m not doing this for selfish gains.
I hear my bedroom door open and turn around, finding Marcus dressed casually with a black garment bag slung over his right shoulder. His eyes take in the sight of me, wrapped only in a plush white towel, before he tosses the bag across the foot of the bed and strolls over.
“Would I sound totally whipped if I admit that I’ve missed you madly?” he questions, drawing me into a warm hug, but I’m in shock with his appearance, so I stand dazed, unmoving. He promised that he would make it back in time for the party, but the pessimist part of me wouldn’t accept his vow. “I feel like I can breathe now that I have you back in my arms.” God, I belong to this man because I feel exactly the same way.
“Me too,” I whisper, pressing my cheek against the hard planes of his thick chest and exhaling a relieved breath.
His palms glide down my arms, wrapping around my wrists and drawing them around his back. Feeling his muscles flex from my caress, I dig my fingers into the thin tee-shirt and embrace him tightly against me. Warmth seeps into me directly from his lovingness. A sob threatens to reveal just how pitiful I am for missing him too much. Like welded castings, we stand here unmoving, holding one another wordlessly, and I thank God for bringing him back to me safely again.
Eventually, he releases me a small degree, dipping his face down to mine and pulling a passionate kiss that scorches more than my lips. A fuse, carrying a flame directly to my heart, smolders like jagged lightning, threatening denotation of my anguish. This kiss from this man makes the struggle worth it, saving me from the dark nothing that I’ve become without him.
Large hands cup my jaw, jade eyes search mine and he professes breathlessly, “I’m so in love with you.”
I should return the sentiment, but I want answers. “Where have you been?” I grumble, needing validation that his most recent trip merits our suffering. He hugs me gently.
“Another excursion for Dr. A, that was a repeat of all the other dead-ends we’ve followed.”
“Where this time?”
His mouth captures mine hungrily. Greedy hands move from my backside and go below the thick terrycloth towel. Painfully slow, they trace up the curve of my hips, skimming along my waist, and smoothing over the swell of my breasts. Missing his touch desperately, I moan low and drop my head back, breaking our kiss. He scoops me into his strong arms and positions me on the middle of the bed. Within moments, his clothes are tossed in a heap on the floor and he’s dispersing of my bath-towel just as fast. Tonight, there is no foreplay, no adoring caresses or further need for sweet words. Clear and distinct lust possesses my loving man, and without warning he thrusts deeply into me. We are fucking, and it feels so damn amazing seeing that his need for reckless abandonment matches mine exactly tonight. I grip the back of his neck and plummet into a delicious oblivion guided by stroking tongues.
“Fuck,” I roar, clenching around his thick cock with a quick and demanding climax.
“Christ, baby,” he growls, slamming harder and swirling wilder before his release possesses his entire body, forcing convulsions all the way down through his limbs. Chaos becomes instant tranquility, lulling our dark dragons of separation into splendor. “That was worth the wait,” he pants against my mouth.
His sweaty forehead drops, pressing against my chest, and his hands tuck under the middle of my back while he fights to regain a steady heartbeat. After a couple of minutes, he lifts his eyes, meeting mine, and the sexy signature curve on his dark lips that I am so fond of makes its appearance. Easing over onto his side next to me, he props an arm beneath his head while the other hand runs over my stomach, splaying long fingers across my goose-bumped covered skin.
“I’m glad you’re home,” I admit, pressing a kiss to his jaw line, and he reciprocates with soft lips against the arch of my eyebrow. Hoping that he’s relaxed enough for casual conversation, I repeat my question from earlier. “So, where were you this whole time?”
“Tracking leads on the east coast,” he offers hesitantly. Diverting the conversation, he asks, “What’s the status on Tristan? Did Sam get him moved yet?”
I sigh, “No, she’s been too busy smothering me with all of this party business to do much else. She wouldn’t even share your location with me,” I pry once more. Hoping that pity works, I throw in a pouty lip for dramatics.
“Right, well,” he mumbles, tumbling off the bed and out of my reach. “We need to hustle if we’re going to make it in time for dinner and the show.” My eyebrows twitch up as I watch him pulling his tux from the garment bag. He notices my confusion and explains, “Gran will have my head if I miss Granddad’s speech. Apparently, it’s epic. Knowing him, we’re in for a beer-induced comedy bit that will embarrass my grandmother and parents royally.”
“I love your grandparents,” I giggle, sliding off the bed and walking naked into the bathroom. After checking the damage to my bouffant, I shower alone, once I explain to Marcus that my very existence rests on my hair remaining absolutely perfect for Sam’s inspection.
Done with the shower, I leave the water running for him to dash under, and then I change into the breathtaking ball gown, that is sure to make him swoon. Swiping pink gloss across my bottom lip, I spot Marcus stepping into the room, fully dressed and running a hand through his damp hair, making the strands misbehave perfectly. His eyes scan the room, finally finding me standing in front of the mirror, hanging on the inside of my closet door. After drawing in a sharp breath, he stills, staring with his perfect bottom lip curling in and his teeth biting down into the silkiness of his pout aggressively. For the full effect, I twirl around ever so slowly and for some reason my eyes drift closed upon facing him. My chest heaves with anticipation of his response. It only takes a split second for heavy footsteps to progress rapidly toward me. Then his warm hands capture my wrists, lifting
both hands so that he can place a kiss to the middle knuckle of each.
My lashes flutter open when he whispers, “You’ve stolen my breath and captivated my soul, my beautiful downfall.” His eyes trace the edges and curves of the gown, killing me with a worshiping gaze after paralyzing me with perfect words. “Baby,” he whispers, releasing my hand and touching fingertips to the side of my face. A faint buzzing under his caress reawakens me from the suspended state my mind visited momentarily. With a husky, velvet tenor, he breathes against my lips, “Because of your love, I feel that, at last, I exist wholly, and if I should ever take a fraction of that love for granted, it would be like carving out the crux of my soul. I could no longer survive without you.” Warm lips brush lightly against mine and I swoon.
Unable to verbalize my gratefulness without drawing in a breath in an attempt to control my voice, I stutter, “Marcus…” How do I respond after his spectacular reaction? What can I say that could possibly top elegant words, matching my feelings exactly? Seeing my blush, he grazes the back of his knuckles across my cheek and then traces it along my jaw line. A smile streaks across his gorgeous face while he resumes checking me out. It wasn’t that long ago that I despised how men viewed me, or rather lusted after me, while dressed this way. Matter of fact, it was the magical evening three months ago when I first met Marcus inside the castle, which we are about to return.
“Shall we?” Instead of extending his arm, he offers his hand and then tethers our fingers.
When we arrive at the castle fashionably late, I smile, thinking that Anna would be so proud. When she isn’t coercing me into being on time for a date, tardy is one of the fashion goddess’ requirements for any and all events, formal or otherwise. My cheeks warm and my stomach buzzes, looking over toward the small alcove to the right of the entryway. The dark corner is where Marcus and I shared our first intimate moment. Just remembering all of the forbidden touching has my needs raging. I want him again this very instance even though it was no more than an hour ago since I had my last sampling of the most decadent man alive.
