by G. A. Rael
He clenched his jaw. "I've seen you tip in a strong breeze, drinking this much could kill you. Speaking of which, why the hell aren't you drunk?"
"I suppressed it," she said, crossing her arms. She glanced around the room and checked the mirror every so often just to make sure Mara didn't decide to make another appearance.
"You what?"
"Never mind. Look, I'm just nervous about the wedding, okay? It was supposed to be a small affair but Lilian invited ten thousand 'family friends' and I just needed something to get me through the ceremony." The look on his face told her she wasn't helping her case. "Can we talk about this later? Like maybe when you tell me how you're managing to be around this many people without, you know, eating them?”
"Fine," he said through gritted teeth. He looked her over again as his agitation turned back into concern. "If you're not okay, it's not too late to postpone the wedding. Or call it off."
"You were pushing me down the aisle a few weeks ago, and now you’re trying to talk me out of it? No. I just want this to be over with."
"Try to sound a little more enthusiastic when you say your vows," he said dryly. “And if it wasn’t clear, I was hoping to call your bluff, not push you to go through with it.”
“You should’ve known that would backfire,” she said, picking up her skirt as she walked toward the door. “Besides, you know the drill. Hermes can’t resist a big event. If anything will lure him back, it’s a wedding.”
"Wait."
She stopped in the doorway and turned around expectantly.
Darren stood there, slipping his hands into the pockets of his sharp three-piece suit, and just stared at her. Jordan was about to chastise him for being lecherous on her wedding day, but when she saw the sad, almost nostalgic look in his eyes, she held her tongue. "What are you doing?"
"Just taking a picture," he murmured.
"Of what?"
He smiled a little. "Of something that will never be."
"Darren…”
"I know I’m no Chase, but I'm entitled to an occasional moment of self-pitying prose, aren't I?"
Jordan looked away and hugged herself, feeling more naked in front of him than she had when she was stripped down to her underwear in front of Lilian. "This isn't a fairytale wedding, Darren. This is part of a plan, one we all agreed on."
"I know," he said, walking over to offer her his arm. "Come on, I have a job to do."
"What are you doing?" she asked, staring warily at his arm.
"I'm giving you away."
"You're what?"
"Your father isn’t exactly a contender and Mrs. Herrin just wasn't convincing even with the fake beard," he said, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. They were the clear, crisp, human eyes he always had after he’d fed. Jordan knew it was cowardly, but she didn’t want to know for sure if he had.
"You don't have to do this," she said, reluctantly slipping her arm into his. "Especially not after what I said."
"You were honest, which is all I've ever asked you to be," he said, sweeping a curl away from her cheek. "I meant what I said a long time ago. I know I'm not the right man for you, but I can still be the one who's always right there with you."
Jordan's throat tightened, and in a way, the feeling his words stirred in her heart was more alarming than anything the hallucination had thrown at her. At least that had to come to an end. This was a dull, gnawing kind of pain she wasn't sure she would ever be rid of.
"Darren, I —” She froze when he reached out and rested his hands on either side of her face. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her, and her lips parted in anticipation. It was wrong. Even if he was hers too, this was the one day she was supposed to be Chase’s and his alone. When Darren swept the stray tears from underneath her eyes instead, she was simultaneously disappointed and ashamed.
"Can't have you look like you've been crying at the altar," he said, gently dabbing at her eyes with his handkerchief. "I doubt Lilian would forgive you."
"So she's always been like this?”
"Oh, yeah," he said, tucking the cloth back in his pocket and offering his arm again. "Ready to become a Stepford wife?”
"Ready as I'll ever be." Jordan sighed, walking with him out of the building. She squinted as the sunlight assaulted them. The gathering wasn't as large as she had feared, but it was still bigger than they had discussed in the planning stages. On her side of the aisle, there was Mrs. Herrin and Alec, Cindy and Lucas, Tina and…Max.
“He came?” Jordan whispered.
“We talked,” said Darren. “I convinced him to come, in the spirit of keeping the truce.”
Jordan sighed and looked down the other side of the aisle where Chase’s parents were seated, along with twenty of their closest friends, plus a row of men and women in perfectly white suits and dresses that resembled uniforms. Lilian was so insistent on a traditional wedding that Jordan had a hard time understanding why she’d allowed so many of her own guests to wear white. Especially when Chase's best man had gotten reamed out for having the rings polished at the wrong jeweler, but Lilian's whims were beyond Jordan’s understanding.
Jordan leaned heavily on Darren as they made their way down the aisle. The guests turned and a few snapped pictures, although most of the flashes came from Cindy and Tina. Jordan found it a little easier to smile once they came upon the small gathering of the people she loved most in the world.
Most of them, at least.
When Jordan’s eyes met her groom’s from across the room, she was relieved to realize that they were the same eyes she knew so well, soft and gentle and full of adoration. Chase was standing at the altar next to his best friend from law school, a surprisingly normal man who had flown in from Seattle just for the occasion. There was something comforting about his presence, as if it affirmed that Chase, in some small way, was really just like any other guy.
Except that he wasn't. He wasn't even one guy. The thought made Jordan cling to Darren's arm a little tighter as Pachelbel's Canon in D began to play. He gave her hand a light pat and kept his gaze ahead as he slowly led the march down the aisle. "Relax. You've got something borrowed and something blue on your left hand."
Jordan looked down at her engagement ring and smiled at the stone so ostentatiously set in diamonds. The design was so unlike Darren or her that it was almost humorous. "Yeah, I guess I do."
“Just remember that whenever you need me, you can call me like to did today,“ he said softly, so only she could hear. They were getting closer to the end of the aisle and she felt the ring grow warmer against her hand.
Darren cast a sideways glance at her. "That wasn't an invitation for a field test."
"Sorry," she murmured. The music came to a stop at the same time as the white silk runner. The minister—a non-religious Unitarian and the only aspect of the wedding Jordan had insisted upon having her way—smiled pleasantly as they stopped walking.
In that moment, all of it felt so right. The music, the surroundings, the people. It was more beautiful than any of the dreams of a wedding Jordan had dared to entertain as a child. Everything was perfect, including the man she was standing next to.
The only thing wrong about it was where they were both standing.
Chapter 28
Darren
"Who gives this woman to be married to this man?"
It was such a simple question and Darren had rehearsed the even simpler answer in his mind a thousand times since he’d decided he was going through with his role in the wedding, and yet he was drawing a blank. All eyes were on him, including Jordan's, as he stood there feeling like an idiot and hanging onto the last second he had with her.
It was a stupid question, really. Jordan didn't belong to him any more than she belonged to the worthless sack of filth that tradition dictated should be the one giving her away, but at least Darren loved her. That had to matter more than some archaic tradition anyway.
And he did love her, which was exactly why he had agreed to do this. I
t was why, despite the childish sense of possession that howled in the back of his mind, and despite the deep ache that was already forming in his chest in anticipation of the moment her arm slipped from his, he was happy for her.
"I do," he said, proud of the fact that his voice was strong and sure and revealed no sign of the civil war brewing between his heart and mind.
He gave her hand a final squeeze before letting it go. Every petty emotion and want raged inside of him as she left him and walked the rest of the way down the aisle until she made it to Chase. Everything in him except the part of him that was still good enough to recognize that it was the place she needed to be, even if it wasn't the place he wanted her to be. That part was sitting on her ring finger not ten feet away, but it felt further away than when she had been imprisoned in Paradise.
Darren chose a seat in the back on Jordan's side of the aisle. He didn't feel like dealing with the pitying looks he knew he would get if he sat beside Mrs. Herrin and Max. The looks he was getting from Cindy from her place up front as Jordan's maid of honor were bad enough.
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Chase Wylde and Jordan Adams," the minister began. Darren tuned him out after that. It was just a bunch of non-denominational, vaguely spiritual bullshit about the power of love and the beauty of two souls joined as one.
When it came time for the vows, he wished he'd taken a page out of Jordan's book and brought his own flask. In the middle of the ceremony, Max slipped into the empty pew beside him. The werewolf slipped his hand into the jacket of his black tux and Darren rolled his eyes when he saw a flash of the silver flask.
"You're kidding."
"I brought it for you," Max said, slipping the flask to him. Despite his protests, Darren took a sip when no one was watching. Chase's vows were every bit as rambling and effusive as he'd feared they would be. It might have been a wedding of practicality, but it was obvious that it was more than that for the groom.
"So, how's it feel to attend your soulmate's wedding?" Max asked, stealing the flask from him.
"Better than attending her funeral," he shot back. "I thought that was for me."
"Don't forget, it's technically my mate's wedding, too."
Darren looked ahead and tried to make himself focus on Chase's words.
"I wrote these so long ago, but the words just aren't coming out the way I thought they would," Chase said, crumpling the heavily folded paper in his hands before putting it back in his pocket. He looked uncharacteristically disheveled as he stood there, his face almost white with anxiety. Darren struggled not to take a certain sick pleasure in watching him squirm.
Chase took Jordan's hands in his and Max's spine stiffened. Darren knew the feeling.
"I guess what I'm trying to say," Chase continued, "is that ever since I was a little boy, I always had a dream that there was one person out there I could share my life with. All I wanted was for her to be good and kind and accept me despite all my flaws, but Jordan, you're so much more than I was promised. You're not just good, you're a representation of everything that is good in this world. You're not just kind, you're the kind of person who falls a little bit in love with everyone you meet. You don't just accept me for who I am, you make me feel like I truly belong, not just that I’m tolerated or accommodated."
Darren couldn't help but notice that Colton Wylde shifted uncomfortably in his pew before he returned to boredly contemplating the shrubbery.
"No love lost there," Max whispered.
"No," Darren agreed.
"What about those guys?" Max asked, nodding to the aisle of strangers in white. Darren had barely noticed them in his own malaise.
"What about them?"
Max snorted. "Guess zombies don't have a heightened sense of smell. They're not human."
"What are they?" Darren asked, taking a renewed interest in the strangers.
“I don’t know, but whatever they are, they’re the same thing as Chase,” Max replied, growing serious.
"What? How do you know?"
"They all smell like flowers."
"That's not exactly worthy of exhibition in the ‘Night Gallery,’” he remarked. "It could be perfume or cologne."
"It's running through their veins," Max said dryly. "Just defer to the olfactory expert on this one, alright? Uncle Lucas has been freaking out ever since we sat down."
"Great," Darren muttered.
"Hey, be glad it's keeping him distracted from you. A lone body snatcher is one thing, especially since his only real casualty was a psycho we were planning on putting down anyway, but when they start multiplying, we've got a problem."
"Jordan said Lilian invited some 'family friends,'" Darren said thoughtfully.
"Let's hope they're only in town for the wedding."
Darren grunted an acknowledgment and focused on Jordan. It was time for her to recite her vows. This was going to hurt so much worse than listening to Chase.
"Chase," she began. Maybe it was Darren's imagination, but he thought she winced when she said his name. "You've been so good to me, more than I deserve sometimes. Sometimes you're so perfect it scares me," she said, earning a small laugh from the crowd. Only Darren could tell that it wasn't a joke. "We've been through so much together in such a short time, but the thing is, you're the one person who's never left me, even when I deserved it."
Her words stung, even though he knew it was narcissistic to entertain the delusion that they were directed at him. Her anxiety seemed to fade for a moment as she squeezed her groom's hands. Come to think of it, it was the first time Darren could remember her actively touching Chase since she had disappeared that night.
"I can't promise to be the wife you deserve, or even that I'll be a good one at all," she said, gazing up at him with such soft adoration that a fresh wave of possessiveness crashed over Darren. "But I can promise to never leave you, to stay with you the way you've always stayed with me."
Chase cupped her cheek in his hand. For a moment, they weren't on a stage gathered in front of their friends and family. For a moment, Darren could tell that Jordan had forgotten that he or anyone else even existed. That was the way it should be, so why did it make him so damn furious?
Darren had figured they would both lose Jordan to Samael sooner or later. He was an angel. He could give her things neither of them could. Whether it was sheer arrogance-induced blindness or not, Darren realized that this was the first time he had actually seen Chase as a threat rather than a pawn in the ever-intensifying game of chess that keeping Jordan safe had become. Losing your queen to a rook was one thing. Losing her to a pawn was another entirely.
The last doubt in his mind that Jordan loved Chase as much if not more than she had ever loved him fell away when they kissed.
Darren hadn't even heard the minister pronounce them man and wife, and yet Jordan was suddenly in his arms and all the other guests were on their feet, cheering. It wasn't the quick, obligatory peck Darren's imagination had promised him, either. Chase might not have been human, but there was no doubt from the way he kissed her that there was at least some red blood pumping through those flowery veins.
A growl too low to be heard by anyone else over the joyful commotion hit Darren's ears. He glanced over and saw that Max's nails were digging marks into the crisp white pews and his teeth were bared slightly. He didn't know enough about wolves to understand how shifting worked, but he knew enough about canine body language to see an attack coming.
"Down, boy," he half-joked, placing a warning hand on Max's shoulder.
The growl subsided and Max eased back into the pew, but Darren could feel the tension coming off him.
"This is sick," he said through gritted teeth. “The damn world’s about to end and we’re having a tea party. If she should be marrying anyone it's you, not that thing up there."
"We're things," Darren reminded him.
Max relaxed a little more, if only to watch as Jordan and Chase made their way down the aisle. Lilian
had taken the stage to thank everyone for coming and to invite them to join the couple in The Wylde ballroom for the reception.
"You sticking around for this abomination?" Max asked.
Darren shrugged. "I still have to bring in my gift and I figure giving away the bride at least warrants me a dance with her.”
"You got them a gift?"
"It's kind of customary. You didn't?"
"Sure I did. If you count a gallon of weed killer as a gift."
Darren rolled his eyes. "You're going to have to learn to tolerate Chase or Jordan is never going to let you in the house."
"Jordan is scared shitless of the guy," Max muttered. "Or does your understanding of body language only extend to animals of the four-legged variety?"
"She's not usually this skittish around him. She's been spending a lot of time around his family and she's smart. I'm sure she's figured out that something is up with him by now. I warned her a long time ago that the Chase we knew isn't the one she knows, but she has to figure things out for herself. She won’t hear it from me.”
"She's stubborn," Max snorted. "I like stubborn women."
"Like I said, join the club."
"What about them?" Max asked, leaning against one of the huge planters that lined the maze to watch the white-garbed guests. They were the only guests who weren't mingling with the others, not even with Chase's family. "They keep giving my uncle and me weird looks like they know what we are. They've been watching you, too."
"Haven't noticed," he admitted. "I've been kind of distracted."
"We should just go talk to them," said Max, starting off before he had even finished the thought.
Darren grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "Are you crazy? You can't just go talk to them! You said it yourself, we don't even know what they are."
"See, this is why you had two girlfriends in high school and I had ten."
"Your uncle is already watching me like I stole his watch, the last thing I need is him seeing me fraternizing with whatever those things are," Darren snapped.
