Sophia rolled her eyes. “It’s just waxing, tweezing and the bite of about one hundred pins Nik’s going to stick into her head. But she will look perfect.”
Mary paled and Leila grimaced sympathetically, but they were pulled down the spiral staircase leading toward their loft above Mary’s art studio before Raphael could move against the women.
Not that he could do much—if he so much as looked at any of the them the wrong way, Alexandre, Cael, and Heath would have his head, Alpha or not. Since the same went for their treatment of Mary, he had no qualms. But one hundred pins? He cringed. Mary is much stronger than I.
He thought about what in the hell they were doing with hot wax as he showered, unable to sleep any longer.
Today, I’m marrying Mary Newman.
A smile stretched across his face. Never, in five hundred years of life, had he thought this day would come. But once Mary had taken his heart in her careful hands his fate had been sealed.
Unwilling to mess up his tuxedo, Raphael pulled on a pair of corduroy pants Mary had bought him along with a soft shirt she said made his eyes pop. He imagined the flick of her fingers as she’d said the word, grinning, and his smile widened. His ülikena was always trying to convince him to wear more color, and it was working.
Typically, mated weres didn’t marry—most found the ceremony redundant. Raphael had never been a normal werewolf, and Mary wasn’t were at all, even though she could use his earth elemental powers better than he could. This day was necessary.
Six months ago, Mary had saved this pack.
Now, they could all have lives beyond the confines of a clan prohibitum. The clan itself was turning into so much more than a prison as it broke free of the centuries of injustice they’d endured.
It was all because his mate had made a bargain with Jeremiah, the previous lupus dux. Today, Raphael held that position.
Mary had given her mortal life to ensure their pack, then only a group of convicts, were treated with the fairness that had been promised them. It was a bargain he would never let her repeat, though the results had a ripple effect upon almost all weres. Her actions gained the attention of the Elders, who finally saw the flaws in their justice system.
Because of Mary, three of the five men in their pack were free. Raphael soon found that Alexandre’s and Cael’s cases would be more difficult to present to the Elders, but he knew they would find freedom in due time, even if he had to work for them day and night.
They were good men who deserved the happiness he, Heath, and Sebastian had found, even if Alexandre’s crime was so shocking Raphael had to read over the material a few times to convince himself he wasn’t hallucinating.
“You’d better have clothes on, ’cause we’re coming up!” Alexandre’s wry voice wafted up the stairs, having followed the telltale sound of the studio’s door being opened.
“It’s three hours until his wedding—if he doesn’t have clothes on by now, he’d better be with the bride.”
Raphael wished Sebastian was right, and he was naked with Mary right now.
“Sophia’s with Mary, not Raphael. They’re all getting ready for the wedding together,” Heath said, his voice becoming louder as they took the stairs.
“I wonder if they’re having a pillow fight,” Alex mused.
“No, but Aiyanna sent me this.” Cael held out his phone as they barged into the loft, a picture of Aiyanna and Leila smiling in matching shiny robes displayed on the screen.
Heath snorted. “I doubt they got Sophia into that getup—I don’t think I’ve ever seen her wear pink.”
Raphael listened to his friends banter, taking the beer Sebastian offered him and smiling when he knew he was supposed to, but his mind wasn’t on his pack today.
No, today was about him and his mate.
I get to marry Mary Newman in a few hours.
He was the luckiest creature on Earth.
The thought was only reinforced hours later, when he stood at the end of the aisle at Trinity Episcopal Church, an alter decorated with tiny white flowers Marry called paperwhites behind him. This was where Mary and Leila had attended elementary school, and where their parents had taken them to church some Sundays.
“I’d like my parents to see how happy I am,” she’d said months ago, when they first discussed the location for their wedding. “Maybe, somehow, they’ll see Leila and me here and see you, too, Raphael. How they would have adored you. If my parents were still with us, they would have welcomed you into our family.”
As Sophia and then Leila walked down the aisle, bundles of paperwhites clutched in their hands, Raphael could have sworn he felt a presence beside him, as if Mary’s parents really were there, standing at his back in silent support.
Or maybe it’s only a ghost who habitually haunts the church and happens to like weddings.
The moment Mary appeared, all thoughts of ghosts and parents fled from his mind. She looked more beautiful than he’d ever seen her, and not because of the form-fitting light blue dress she wore, or the wreath of white flowers and deep green leaves encircling her white-blonde head.
She was beaming with pride, gliding toward him with her head held high. Mary was a woman who knew what she wanted, and every day for the rest of her life, that was Raphael. She’d told him as much that morning, and even then he’d been almost scared to believe her.
This woman claiming him, an ex-convict? Impossible.
Now she proclaimed her love for all to see in every facet of her joyful face as she made her way to him with no one to escort her. Wish and every other member of his pack had offered, but she’d gracefully declined, telling them “I’ll only be alone for a minute or so. Then I’ll have Raphael forever.”
When she reached him, Raphael had to keep himself from hauling her into his arms. Instead, he watched patiently as she handed her bouquet of red roses to Leila and clasped his hands.
Her touch sent a jolt through him, as it always did.
“I love you, ülikena,” he murmured quietly enough for only her to hear.
She squeezed his hands. “And I love you.”
Smiling excitedly, they exchanged their vows. When it came time for Raphael to kiss his bride, he did so with abandon, wiping a few tears from the crease of her smile as she dabbed his own.
My mate, my wife. She more than everything he could have dreamed of, more than he deserved. My Mary.
Chapter 3
AT the reception, Briony avoided Sebastian for the fifth time today.
He didn’t need to watch her talking to ghosts, or thin air, which is exactly what he would have seen.
She suppressed a sigh. She’d been so excited for today, especially after last night. This was a date—or would have been one, if Briony couldn’t see the dead. Normally, she wouldn’t mind helping a few lost souls, but this ghostly couple had the potential to ruin the wedding.
They were Mary and Leila’s dead parents.
Those two did not need to be thinking about their parents’ literal presence at this wedding, even though said parents really wanted to be heard.
“We know you can hear us.” Mr. Newman’s eyebrow cocked upward.
“I can scream so loud you’ll be rendered permanently deaf,” his wife said sweetly, her delicate face every bit as angelic as Mary’s. “Would you like me to demonstrate?”
The trouble with the crowd here was the werewolves’ acute hearing. Chances were, they’d be able to tell she was talking to herself.
Briony didn’t care about being viewed as a little strange—she was a witch—but she didn’t need to be labeled crazy either.
Avoiding anyone’s eyes, she maneuvered through the crowd until she reached the hall where the bathrooms and break rooms were housed. Luckily, the door to the smaller break room was unlocked.
Waving the ghosts inside, she closed and locked the door behind them.
“I understand you need peace,” she told them calmly, “but I doubt r
uining your daughter’s wedding reception will achieve that. Do you really want to upset her this way?”
No matter who these people used to be, there was no reason to hurt Mary today, or Leila, for that matter. She’d seemed so happy as she and Alexandre danced to a funk song, using moves no one else in attendance would dare attempt. Not even Sebastian could convince me to leap like that.
“We don’t want to ruin Mary’s big day—” her father began.
“I’d kill anyone who messed this up for our daughter. Don’t you think we saw how our girls lived after we died? Thank God for these werewolves,” the woman interrupted.
“You did good, telling her not to fear the weres like you did,” her husband commented.
The couple actually fist-pumped each other.
“So why—?” Briony started.
“We need to warn Leila.”
Alarm filled Briony. She’d known Leila was in some mild danger from her aura, but it hadn’t seemed pressing. Briony’s own aura was many times more perilous, but then, reading the swirls of color had its limitations. “Who’s going to try to hurt her?”
The couple exchanged a sad look.
“It’s better for all of you if we don’t speak of them,” Mrs. Newman said, “but they’re not coming for a while yet, and she knows what to look out for.” Pain and grief infused the woman’s words, and Briony’s heart went out to her.
From what Sebastian and Harry had told her, Leila witnessed both her parents’ murders. She knew there was something more to that story, something Leila had either left out on purpose, or a piece Sebastian doesn’t know, but she never dwelled on it.
Unlike the others in the pack, Briony would let Leila’s business remain her own.
“Who we’re trying to warn her about is Alexandre.” Mr. Newman’s eyes narrowed, and his lips thinned, much like Leila’s did when she was angry or found something she didn’t understand in a textbook.
Briony never went to college, so she’d been useless to help the young banshee with her studies. Occasionally she’d pick up a book where Leila left it, careful to keep her bookmarks and notes in place, and read until she heard someone approaching.
“What about him?” Rarely was Briony this surprised. What kind of problem could these seemingly kind parents have with Alexandre, who was arguably the most even-tempered, good-hearted werewolf in the pack?
She would’ve bet some of her rarest potion ingredients that they’d fear Raphael before Alex. The Alpha’s temper was the stuff of legends.
“You have to tell her to break up with him.” Mr. Newman’s tone froze Briony in place, leaving no room for argument.
Picturing the countless times in the last month when she’d watched Alex put a smile on Leila’s face, Briony shook her head. She would do no such thing to the couple. Even if they weren’t meant to be mated, and she was all but certain they were, they were obviously good for one another.
“We were watching Raphael, trying to figure him out—he’s a strange one, isn’t he?” Mrs. Newman waved her hand dismissively. “Anyway, he’s been going over a ton of paperwork regarding Alexandre lately, and all of it details the reasons why he was exiled. He’s a monster.”
“He’s a werewolf,” Briony answered patiently.
“We know that,” Mr. Newman hissed. “What Piritta was trying to say is, the man is an atom bomb waiting to go off. He’s already exploded once, literally, killing an unnamed number of innocent people. He’s predicted to do so again, whether his powers are bound or not.”
“Leila can’t be around him when this happens,” Piritta chimed in. “It may not kill her, but she’d be traumatized. Our baby girl has seen too much death already.”
“An explosion like that would kill her,” Briony said slowly. Leila was still mortal, right?
Both parents shifted uncomfortably, refusing to meet her eyes. So she’s not mortal. Noted. It was a day full of surprises.
Briony decided she would keep the new piece of information to herself, considering it couldn’t hurt anyone. Even so, she wondered who in the pack knew they had two immortal banshees running around.
Sighing, she met both parents’ eyes. “I can’t promise you I’ll try to get between your daughter and Alex because I know they’ll be much happier together than apart. But,” she continued speaking in her most serene voice, ignoring Mr. Newman’s disgruntled intake of breath, “I can guarantee you Alex’s powers will be contained. I don’t know what he can do, but everyone has seen how hard Raphael’s been working to be a fair lupus dux, unlike his predecessor. There’s no way he’s going to let a member of his pack hurt anyone unless it’s in defense of the clan.”
Mr. Newman appeared as if he was about to speak, but Piritta’s nod had him closing his mouth with a snap.
“I get that impression from Raphael too.” She wiped away a ghostly tear. “He’s good for our Mary, yes?”
Briony nodded, smiling. Finally, this conversation was going in the direction she wanted it to. “They’re very happy. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to go find the date I’ve been neglecting.” She made to leave the room, but turned before she opened the door. “Why are you still here?”
“We’re not leaving until our girls are where they need to be, where they should have been had we not been forced to leave them.” Piritta’s smile was sad, but pride shone in her gray eyes.
“I’m not leaving until I see both of them get their college degrees,” her husband murmured, folding his arms. “You tell Mary she needs to get her ass in gear and figure her education out.”
Briony nodded before she left the room, certain she’d see them again. In the hall, Sebastian was eating up the distance between them with long legs, his short auburn hair sticking up toward the ceiling as if he’d been running his hands through it.
Instead of seeming irritated, he only looked relieved to have found her. “Where have you been?”
Smiling, she took his hand to steer him back toward the reception. “Add this to the list of what we’ll talk about after the wedding.”
He tapped his head, his eyebrow cocked. “I’m keeping count, you know.”
She did, and she would tell him about her ghostly encounter. There was no doubt in her mind of Alex’s intentions, toward Leila or the world as a whole, but if he did have that sort of unstable power, the pack needed to know about it.
When they reached the massive outdoor space the brewery used to hold concerts, Briony breathed a sigh of relief. There were no ghosts to worry about anymore. She could concentrate on the man in front of her.
She really wanted to focus on the man in front of her. He wore the same black suit and blood-red tie as the rest of his packmates, even though they weren’t all groomsmen. Mary and Raphael had opted for a best man and maid of honor, with no other bridal party. Only Leila and Heath stood beside them while they exchanged their vows, and the couple couldn’t have looked happier.
As they neared the stage, the music slowed. It took a moment for Briony to recognize it, but she looked up at Sebastian sharply once she did.
The gleam in his bright blue eyes told her all she needed to know.
“You asked them to play this?” she gasped.
There was something about this song that tugged the strings to her heart. Incidentally, it came on the radio the day she met Sebastian.
Her heart soaring to the softly sung words of Sum 41’s “With Me,” she knew none of the occurrences were coincidences. She didn’t believe in coincidences, after all.
Sebastian nodded. “Dance with me?” On the surface, he appeared calm, confident…almost suave with his half-smile and glittering eyes.
Briony knew better. It was subtle, but there was a streak of apprehension in his aura, one that was always present with Sebastian, indicating how sensitive he was to the feelings of those around him. It was one of the reasons he was such a successful business owner.
Now, the stripe was ever so brighter than usual
. Is it because of me?
“I’d love to.” Her right hand already in his, she reached out with her left, twining it around to the back of his neck, where his short, soft hair tickled her skin.
His large hand curved around her waist, placing only enough pressure for her to stay acutely aware of his touch. In a flash, his aura changed, the colors swirling around them as he grinned and pulled her flush against him. They swayed to the music, oblivious to the other guests, the bride and groom.
Had Briony been dancing with anyone else, she would have gone to placate the pouting four-year-old Molly, who much preferred faster-paced music. Likely, she would have told Cael a piece of her mind for dancing with Aiyanna for one song before refusing to touch her.
But this was Sebastian, and her body fit perfectly against his, even while moving slowly. He smelled of beer and leather, making her wonder what he would look like in a pair of leather pants. That was a sight she’d pay to see, and she was sure she’d have to pay in order to see it—leather pants went with Sebastian like, well she went with leather pants. They were the last garments she’d ever put on her body.
And only then, she’d wear brown. Never would she wear black.
“I feel as if I could sing this to you someday, meaning every word,” Sebastian whispered in her ear, punctuating his words with a squeeze to her hip.
She wanted so badly to tell him with certainty, That’s because you could.
He has to learn who we are to each other on his own. As a werewolf, it was in his nature to deduce who he was meant to share his life with, and his sentiment told her he was beginning to figure it out.
If he never realized what they could be, it would be because he didn’t want to know. That’s okay. He has that right.
Having been betrothed against her will, she had no intentions of forcing Sebastian into something he didn’t want, and if he was anything, he was a man who took his duties seriously. The moment the realization was made that she was his mate, she’d become his responsibility, along with Sophia and the pack’s finances.
The notion should have shaken her feminist leanings, but Sebastian’s sense of duty was at the core of who he was. She could no more ask him to change that part of him than ask him to stop changing into a wolf each month.
Enspelled Page 3
