My Big Fat Supernatural Wedding

by L. A. Banks

  "A couple of times, but she won't talk about them."

  "That's right and do you know why?"

  "She's nuts?" This time he said it with a little less enthusiasm.

  "No . . . she's scared."

  But that didn't make sense to him. "Of what?"

  "Of losing the people she loves, so she tries to keep up walls to protect herself. If she doesn't talk about people, then they can't be close to her. But it's a crock. I know this because when her father died a year ago, it almost killed her. She still cries about him in the middle of the day when she thinks I'm sleeping."

  The news floored him. That was so opposite of the hard-nosed woman upstairs. There was nothing vulnerable about her, and hon­estly, he couldn't imagine her crying about anything. "Celena?"

  "Yes, Celena. And do you know why she's so anal about her du­ties?"

  "She's nuts?" He was back to being convinced. Anyone who exe­cuted their duties to such an nth degree wasn't normal.

  "No," Ephani said in an irritated tone. "Like Jeff she's from a Squire family. The Dark-Hunter she grew up with was killed eight years ago because he was cornered by a group of Daimons and exe­cuted. If that wasn't bad enough, the first Dark-Hunter she was as­signed to died because she couldn't make it back before sunup. Celena tried to get to her in time, but there was no place for her to hide, so she turned into toast minutes before Celena got there. The Council warned me when they sent her over that she was a bit. . . traumatized by the event. Hell, if you think she's bad now, you should have seen her when she first came to work for me."

  If she was worse, then he was grateful he hadn't met her then. But all that actually explained a great deal about her psychosis.

  "And she must really like you to be so paranoid that she's calling you all the time to make sure you get back home in time. She's not that bad even with me." Then she added under her breath, "Then again, I always follow her patrol plans and get back before she freaks."

  Rafael was quiet for a second as he considered Ephani's words. "That puts a lot of perspective on her, doesn't it?"

  "Yeah."

  "Okay," he said with a sigh, "I won't kill her tonight."

  "Please don't. All in all, I'm rather fond of her, and I have to say I much prefer her to the one I'm dealing with right now. This one's kind of lazy. She even balked at making my scrambled eggs with cheese and onions in them."

  Rafael laughed at that. "I guess it's what you're used to."

  "I guess. But send Celena home soon. I miss her."

  He shook his head. "By the way, thanks, Eph."

  "No prob. Just take care of my girl."

  "Will do." Rafael hung up the phone and tucked it back in his pants pocket. His mind whirling with what he'd learned, he headed upstairs to find his "breakfast" waiting.

  Grabbing a piece of bacon, he had to admit that this was the one thing he liked about having Celena around. Unlike Jeff, she was up all night with him and made sure that he had plenty of food pre­pared. She even packed him a snack bag to take with him. Of course it was full of wholesome foods that he poked at like an alien life-form, but it was a nice thought.

  "Hi."

  He swallowed his bacon as she brought him a glass of orange juice. "Hi."

  After he took the glass, she lifted a notebook up from the table. "I've made notes on your patrolling patterns. I've noticed that you tend to stay here in Columbus around campus until about midnight and then you head over to Starkville. I was thinking that—"

  He took the pad from her hand and set it aside. "I like my pattern, Celena."

  "But it would be safer for you to patrol Starkville first and then head back this way."

  "And I was a pirate who laughed as he died and spat in the face of my killer. Safety's not my concern."

  "It should be," she insisted.

  "Why?"

  Her brow creased by worry, her face held a very faint hysterical note in it. "Because you could die and become a Shade, wandering the earth with no body and no soul, in constant pain and misery. Wanting food. Wanting someone to hear you. Wanting someone to just touch you and having no one able to see you. To—"

  He stopped her words by laying his fingers on her lips. Personally, he didn't like the gruesome image she painted with her words. "It's okay, Celena. I'm not going to die."

  But he could see the pain and fear in her eyes. "That's why you should rethink your pattern."

  Moving his fingers from her soft lips, Rafael dipped his head down to capture her mouth only to have her retreat from him again.

  He let out a tired breath. "Don't you ever date?"

  "Not anymore. To bring an outsider in could threaten the safety of Ephani. What if I were on a date and she needed me?"

  "What if a meteorite fell through the house right now and flat­tened us both?"

  She actually glanced up at the ceiling.

  If it wasn't so serious, he'd laugh. "Celena, you can't go through your entire life worrying about what might happen." He closed the distance between them. "Any more than you can go through life alone. Trust me on this one. It's lonely as hell."

  "You live that way."

  "Not always. I do reach out to someone from time to time."

  Instead of comforting her, those words brought out her anger. "And I'm not your one-night stand. We both have duties to attend to. Oaths to uphold."

  "I would kiss you anyway, but I have a feeling that if I tried—"

  "I'd kick you in the nuts and tear your ear off." There was no mistaking the sincerity of her angry tone.

  "That would hurt."

  "That's the idea."

  Rafael shook his head at her. She was saucy, and as she walked away from him he couldn't help the heat that flooded his body. Everything about her appealed to him on a primal level.

  Honestly, he was losing his mind being this close to something that tempted him while unable to touch it. No wonder the Council preferred to assign only Squires who were the opposite sex of what a Dark-Hunter lusted for.

  I can't take it. He needed some distance from her.

  "I'm going to kill Daimons now."

  "But it's early."

  "I know. But I have a feeling they're out already and I need to pa­trol." Or stay here with the hard-on from hell until he lost what lit­tle sanity he had left. As Oscar Wilde once said, he could resist anything except temptation.

  Before Rafael could make it to the door, his phone rang. Without looking at the ID, he answered it.

  "Rafe?" It was Jeff whispering in a panicked tone.

  "Yeah?"

  "There's a group of Daimons here at the marina."

  "It's too early for them to be out."

  "Tell them that!"

  "Calm down and tell me what's going on."

  "It's spooky as hell. There's some kind of party going on at the houseboat next door that started at sundown and I just saw six of them heading for it."

  "All right. Lie low and I'll be there in a few minutes."

  Celena frowned at the concern in Rafael's voice. "Is there a problem?"

  "Major Daimon alert."

  Before she could ask anything else, he was gone, but his words rang in her ears. Major Daimon alert. . .

  This could be bad.

  You're a Squire. Her place was at home, especially after dark. And then she saw Eamon's face in her mind. His smiling face as he teased her about not eating peas.

  "Did ya do yer homework, lass?"

  God, how she'd loved that man. He was like an older brother, a best friend, and a father all rolled into one. And in one heartbeat, the Daimons had killed him.

  Let's face it, with the exception of Ephani, you've had a bad run with Dark-Hunters. The more she cared for them, the more horrible their deaths.

  And she loved Rafael. She'd loved him since the first moment she'd met him after she moved to West Point, Mississippi. He was in­telligent, smart, and he had a wicked sense of humor.

  Now he was going to fight the Daimons. Alone.
>
  A thousand scenarios went through her head, with all of them coming to one single conclusion.

  Rafael dead. Panic set her heart to beating furiously as she looked about his home. She couldn't pack up another Dark-Hunter's home. She couldn't hold another vigil service to pay respect to someone she loved.

  She couldn't.

  And before she could stop herself, she grabbed the tracer off the table and her keys.

  When Jeff had said that there was a group of Daimons heading for a party, Rafael had taken that to mean that there were only six Daimons at a human party. You know—a regular party with teenaged or college-aged humans grop­ing each other while drinking heavily. The kind of party that he normally crashed so that he could protect the humans from the Dai­mons who wanted to feast on their souls.

  What the rocket scientist had failed to mention to Rafael was the small fact that the Daimons were headed into an Apollite wedding re­ception. Something he, himself, hadn't realized until he'd walked onto the boat that was filled with tall, gorgeous pale blond preternat­ural people.

  Oh yeah, the six-foot-six bald black man dressed all in black leather really didn't blend into the overdressed crowd of Nordic vampires. And Rafael had to admit that right now looking at the Apollites and Daimons who were staring angrily at him made him feel like the last steak in the Kennel Club.

  It was so silent, the only sound he could hear, even with height­ened hearing, was his own heart beating. Though there was blood in their goblets—he could smell it—there didn't appear to be any hu­mans around who needed saving.

  Except for, maybe, him.

  One of the Apollites closest to him arched a brow before he spoke. "Bride's side or groom's?"

  "I'm with catering," Rafael said in a flat tone.

  A Daimon stepped forward to give him a cold, feral once-over. "Yeah, you look like food to me."

  The Daimon female beside him smiled, showing off her fangs. "We can't really eat him, since his blood is poisonous to us, but killing him should have some entertainment value. What do you think?"

  Yeah, he'd walked right into the lion's den. There were at least twelve Daimons that he could sense. And another twenty Apollites. Normally Apollites didn't fight against Dark-Hunters, since Dark-Hunters were forbidden to touch them until they stopped feasting on fellow Apollites and began feasting on human souls, thereby be­coming Daimons. Then it was open warfare between them.

  However, this group didn't seem too concerned with keeping the unspoken truce between Dark-Hunters and Apollites. They truly were bloodthirsty.

  And now they were attacking.

  Reaching under his coat, Rafael grabbed his steel stake and plunged it into the heart of the first Daimon to reach him. With an anguished cry, the Daimon exploded into dust. Two more came at him. He caught the first one a quick hit that sent him flying back­ward, into the arms of another Daimon, while he flipped the second one over and stabbed him straight in the chest.

  Before he could straighten up from the kill, the Daimons overran him like ants over a sugar cube. He hit the ground face-first as they clawed at him. He could feel something biting into his back that felt like a knife wound, but it was hard to tell as he struggled to get them off him.

  Celena knew she was breaking the rules, but Rafael didn't have to know it. All she was going to do was make sure he was okay, then head back to his house. No one would ever know what she'd done. No one.

  She parked her car as close to the docks as she could before she took off running toward where the tracer in her hand said Rafael was. A thousand fears shredded her as she relived the night Sara had died. Celena had been trying to get to her. They'd been on the cell phone together as she raced to make it in time.

  The last sound she'd heard had been Sara screaming as she burst into flames.

  Grief threatened to overwhelm Celena. She couldn't lose another Dark-Hunter. And especially not Rafael. She'd loved him far too long to let him die.

  With no clear thought of what she had in mind to do to help him if he was in trouble, she ran onto the boat, then skidded to a stop.

  It was total chaos.

  But more than that, there was no sign of Rafael anywhere. He ap­peared to be buried by the large stack of Daimons and Apollites in the center of the boat.

  Her eyes welling with tears, she met the gaze of a woman in a wedding dress for only an instant before she pulled a stake out of her coat.

  "Rafael?" Celena cried, heading for the fray.

  A Daimon turned on her then. Celena kicked him back and kept going toward the largest group of them. She knew that was where Rafael had to be.

  She couldn't see anything as she pushed, kicked, and fought until she finally saw what she'd come for. Rafael knocked a Daimon off him while another was trying to pin him to the ground. But what made her panic swell most was the Daimon coming toward them with an ax.

  If they managed to cut off Rafael's head, it was over.

  The Daimons pulled back as someone grabbed her from behind. Reacting on pure instinct, Celena head-butted her assailant with the back of her head and launched herself at Rafael who still lay on the ground. From the corner of her eye, she saw the ax falling.

  She curled herself around Rafael's head and waited for the pain of the ax slicing through her.

  It never came.

  There was a sudden silence that rang out as everything seemed to freeze into place. Her heart racing, Celena opened her eyes to see the Apollites and Daimons staring above her. She rolled over to find the Daimon who'd held the ax. Only now the ax was gone.

  It was in the hands of the groom who stared not at them but at the others with a stern glare. "Enough!" he roared. "This is sup­posed to be my wedding!" He looked over at the bride, whose face was pale, her delicate lips trembling. "And you're upsetting Chloe. I've only got five more years with her before I die and the last thing I want is to have what few memories I have left ruined by a bunch of bloodthirsty assholes." He picked out with his gaze the ones who must be Daimons. "No more bloodshed!"

  The Daimon next to Celena curled his lip. "He killed my brother."

  The groom snarled. "Your brother was a dickhead and he's lucky I didn't kill him. I told all of you that you weren't to cause any prob­lems tonight, didn't I?"

  The Daimon turned sheepish.

  The groom tossed the ax overboard before he approached them. To Celena's complete shock, he held his hand out to her.

  She exchanged an uncertain look with Rafael before she reached out, clasped the groom's hand, and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

  "You can't let him go," another Daimon sneered.

  "It's my wedding. I can do what I please. This is supposed to be a night of celebration—"

  "Then let's celebrate by killing a Dark-Hunter."

  The groom looked disgusted. "Someone stake that bastard, please, and for the sake of the gods, dust Benny off the table by the foun­tain. That powder's disgusting and it's getting into the blood." He helped Rafael up. "Don't worry. It's not human blood. It's ours."

  Rafael wasn't sure what to think as he faced the Apollite in front of him. They could have killed him and Celena both. He was having a hard time believing that they would just let him go.

  "Why are you doing this?" Rafael asked.

  The groom looked back at his bride. "Because life's too short to spend it fighting when you could be holding the one you love. And love's too rare to squander it with petty concerns." He took his wife's hand in his and held it tight. "I'm lucky I have Chloe and I have no intention of letting a war I didn't start rob me of one second of my time with her. Go in peace, Dark-Hunter."

  Rafael was surprised by his words, but even more so by his char­ity. "You're a good man."

  The Apollite scoffed. "I guess we'll see in about five years, huh? If I die peacefully, then I'm good. If not, then we'll face each other again as predators." He indicated the ramp with a jerk of his chin. "Now go before I change my mind."

  Deciding not to pre
ss his luck, Rafael draped his arm around Ce­lena and held her close to him to protect her as they made their way off the boat. He didn't stop walking until they'd made their way over to the dock by his boat. He paused at the prow to turn back and see the Apollites and Daimons resuming their party.

  "That was flipping amazing!" He looked up to see Jeff in the shadows.

  He reminded Rafael of a kid who'd just got away with some­thing. "I thought you were dead. Man, I was in the process of calling Acheron for help when I saw the two of you leaving. How did you manage it?"

  Instead of removing his arm from around Celena, Rafael leaned his head against hers. "Luck . . . which I'll take over skill any day."

  Jeff's face sobered as he realized Celena was there. He actually gulped. "I'm dead, aren't I?"

  Rafael held his breath as he met Celena's speculative gaze. He ex­pected her to shove him away from her and go after Jeff.

  Instead, she wrapped her arm around Rafael's hips. "I made a deal with Rafael, and it seems you're safe from me."

  A small smile hovered at the edges of Rafael's lips as he stared at her in the moonlight. "Go home, Jeff."

  "Okay, let me pack and—"

  "No," he said sternly. "Go home right now and don't stop until you're safe in your room. You can get your stuff later."

  He could tell Jeff wanted to argue, but luckily for his Squire, the man caught the tone of his voice and immediately left. And as soon as he did, Rafael did what he'd been dying to do. He finally kissed Celena.

  Celena moaned at the taste of Rafael as his tongue swept against hers. He cupped her face in his hands as she inhaled the sharp scent of his skin and aftershave. It was a breathtaking combination, and all she wanted to do was peel his clothes off him and lick every inch of his body.

  She knew she had no business with him, and for once she didn't care about rules. The Apollite had been right. There were some things more important than something so trivial.

  Rafael pulled back from the kiss. "Why did you come for me?"

  "I was afraid you were in danger."

  He shook his head at her. "You know that was amazingly stupid of you. I'm rancid meat to them, but you . . . you're a buffet. You'redamn lucky they let you go."