My Big Fat Supernatural Wedding

by L. A. Banks

  She smiled up at him before she repeated her earlier words. "Yeah, well, I'll take luck over skill any day."

  He laughed before he kissed her again. "And that still doesn't tell me why you came after me. You broke a dozen rules by following me tonight."

  And for some reason that didn't bother her. Nothing had mattered to her except seeing him safe. "I know, but I couldn't let you die."

  "Why?"

  She bit her lip as the reasonable side of her brain begged her not to say anything else. But all the years of her hiding her emotions for this man rushed to the forefront, and after being with him for this last week, she couldn't hide it anymore. "Because I love you."

  Rafael couldn't have been more stunned had she stabbed him. He stood there in complete shock as he watched her eyes dilate ever so slightly. In all the centuries he'd lived, only one other woman had ever said those words to him . . .

  And she had died in his arms on their wedding night under the assault of his enemies.

  He'd never had the chance to taste her. Never had a chance to show her just how much he loved her.

  He wasn't going to take that chance with Celena. His body burn­ing, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her on board his boat.

  "What are you doing?" she asked as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  "Carpe noctem. I'm seizing the night. But most of all, I'm seizing the woman in my arms."

  Celena didn't say another word as he took her below the deck. As soon as they were out of the sight of any passersby, she literally ripped the shirt from his back so that she could finally touch the body that had haunted her dreams for the last few years.

  Her career as a Squire was over, but she didn't care. The only thing that mattered right then was being with Rafael. She shivered as he pulled her shirt over her head and cupped her breast through her bra.

  Closing her eyes, she savored the heat of his hand as he pushed the satin aside to touch her flesh. She captured his lips with hers as she feverishly opened his fly, then dipped her hand down to touch him. He hissed in response, making her soar in satisfaction.

  "Boy," he whispered against her lips, "When you break the rules, you seriously break the rules."

  Celena didn't respond as he pulled her pants down her legs. She sucked her breath in sharply between her teeth as she saw him kneel­ing on the ground at her feet. Lifting her foot, she let him remove her shoes, which he tossed over his shoulder before he undressed her.

  His dark eyes flashed an instant before he reached up to remove her panties. Her entire body burned as he bared her to his hungry gaze. Reaching down, she traced the outline of his lips as he gently tongued her fingertips. She'd dreamed of this moment a thousand times.

  He was the main reason she'd never really dated. After she'd met him, other men never seemed to compare. They weren't as hand­some. Weren't as dangerous.

  Weren't as forbidden.

  And now she was finally going to know what it felt like to hold him. . . .

  Rafael couldn't breathe as he slowly rose to his feet. He still couldn't believe that Celena was here with him. That she who lived for rules and regulations was willing to sacrifice her Squire's oath.

  His heart pounding, he reached down to brush his hand against the softness of her abdomen, then lower to the short, crisp hairs un­til he found what he sought. He groaned at the sensation of her wet heat against his fingers while she stroked him with her hand.

  Unable to stand it anymore, he pinned her back against the wall and kissed her passionately.

  Celena clung to him as she lifted one leg to wrap it around his hips. Taking the invitation, he drove himself deep inside her.

  Rafael's head spun as an unimagined ecstasy tore through him. Celena had almost died to protect him. No woman had ever done such a thing for him before. Her strength, her courage . . .

  It was unlike anything he'd ever known.

  And now she met him stroke for stroke as they made love furi­ously. He smiled as each thrust was punctuated by the sound of the beads on the ends of her braids scraping against the wall.

  Celena buried her lips against Rafael's throat as she forced herself not to think about what was going to happen tomorrow. She couldn't stay with him. She knew it. He was a Dark-Hunter. But here for the moment, he was hers, and that was all that mattered.

  Arching her back, she cried out with every powerful thrust of him inside her as she clutched him to her. He dipped his head down to capture her breast and tongue it in time to his strokes. She cradled his head to her as her body was overwhelmed by pleasure. With every stroke it increased until she finally couldn't stand it anymore. Her body burst into a thousand tendrils of ecstasy.

  Rafael growled as he felt Celena climaxing. Wanting to give her even more, he quickened his strokes and watched as she threw her head back and moaned.

  His smile faded as he lost himself to his own orgasm. Burying himself deep inside her, he shook with the force of it. Her breathing ragged in his ear, she gently stroked his back as he slowly drifted back into himself. This was one of the most amazing moments in his life. Not because of the sex, but because he was being held by a woman who was willing to sacrifice herself for him. A woman who was willing to break the rules. . . .

  Most of all, a woman who loved him.

  He kissed her tenderly on the lips. "Don't leave, Celena."

  "I'll be here until morning."

  "No," he said, his voice thick with the emotions that were churn­ing inside him. "I mean don't leave. Ever."

  Her mouth opened ever so slightly. "What are you saying, Rafael?"

  "I love you."

  She couldn't believe her ears. It was more than she'd ever hoped for. "You don't have to say that."

  "It's not that I'm saying it. It's that I'm feeling it."

  Thrilled by his words, she squeezed him tight. "So what's to be­come of us now?"

  "Looks like I'll be joining the human race again."

  "Are you sure?"

  Rafael grew quiet as he considered it. If he continued being a Dark-Hunter, he'd have to let her go.

  The Apollite's words rang in Rafael's head. He'd been alone for all these centuries. Not once in all this time had any woman ever made him feel his emotions more strongly than Celena. She made him crazy, angry happy. . . .

  But most of all, she made him feel like he could fly.

  He didn't want to live without this. Without her.

  "Yeah, I'm sure. That is, if you're willing to take Artemis's test."

  "For you, my pirate, I'd walk through the fires of hell."

  Epilogue

  TWO MONTHS LATER

  Celena stared at Acheron, the Dark-Hunter leader, as he ex­plained that in order to free Rafael from Artemis's service she would have to kill him. "You've got to be kidding me." "Do I look like I'm joking?"

  She raked her gaze from the top of his long black hair to the tips of his custom-made Goth biker boots with bat buckles. And at six foot eight there was a lot of him to rake, too, but every bit of his long, lean frame was deadly sincere, which made her sick to her stomach.

  How could she kill the man she loved? What kind of psycho had instituted that policy?

  Then she looked to Rafael, who was standing behind Acheron, in the hallway. His handsome face betrayed nothing but trust. His black eyes were kind and gentle, encouraging, and that made the love she felt for him swell.

  "I can't kill him."

  Acheron let out a patient breath. "He won't be dead long. You simply stop his heart from beating, then you hold the stone against his bow and arrow tattoo. His soul will leave the stone and return to his body."

  "You can do it, baby," Rafael said with that decadent accent of his. "You told me just last night that you wanted to choke the life out of me."

  Instead of smiling, she grimaced at him. "That was for hogging the remote, and I wasn't serious. This is entirely different."

  Acheron shrugged. "Fine then, he continues being a Dark-Hunter, and the
Council will reassign you away from him."

  Her heart stopped at the mere thought of not seeing him any­more. "You can't let them do that."

  "I control the Dark-Hunters. The Squires are their concern, not mine. I have no jurisdiction there, which is why Jeff is now cooling his heels in Squire jail for writing that story. I personally thought it was funny, but the Council doesn't really have a sense of humor, do they?"

  Frustrated, Celena wanted to argue, but she knew better. If she and Rafael were to ever have a normal life, he would have to be hu­man again.

  Right now, the Council knew nothing about their relationship, but sooner or later they were bound to find out and then there would be hell for her to pay.

  Unless she and Rafael were already married. Then there was nothing the Council could do. There was no law prohibiting her from marrying a human male. It was the only loophole they could hope for.

  "Okay," she said with a determined sigh. "I can do this."

  This time it was Acheron who hesitated. "There's one more thing you need to know."

  She gave Acheron a peeved stare. "And that would be?"

  "The stone with his soul in it will burn your skin the minute you touch it, and it won't stop until his soul has returned to his body. If you drop the stone before that time, he'll be a Shade."

  Oh, that was a pleasant thought. In freeing him, she could very well be damning him to an eternity of hell. Shades couldn't eat, couldn't be seen or heard. It was a fate far worse than death.

  And she could be the one to gift him with that oh, so not pleas­ant existence.

  Still Rafael's gaze burned into her. "I want to be with you, Ce­lena. As a man."

  How could she argue with that? What's more, she wanted it, too. So long as he remained a Dark-Hunter, they couldn't have children. But if she freed him . . .

  They could have a family. They could be married and grow old together. It was all she wanted.

  "Okay," she breathed. "Tell me what to do."

  Acheron pulled a long, evil-looking dagger from his boot and handed it to her. "Pierce his heart and leave the dagger in until he goes limp." He shrugged his black backpack off his shoulder and took out a black box that was about the size of a softball. He opened the lid to show her a vibrant blue stone that was chiseled with intri­cate markings. It was a strange, compelling object that seemed to hum with life.

  She reached for it only to have Acheron move it away.

  "Remember, it burns. I'll hand it to you and then you press it to Artemis's mark."

  She gulped as she stared at the stone. It was hard to fathom that was Rafael's human soul in there. "Are you sure this works?"

  "Kyrian, Talon, Valerius—"

  "Okay," she said as Acheron listed off the Dark-Hunters she knew had gone free. "Let's do it."

  Rafael pulled his shirt off so that she could see the double bow and arrow mark on his left shoulder.

  Her heart pounding, she gripped the dagger tight in her hand and met his obsidian gaze. The love there scorched her.

  "You can do it," he whispered. "Just pretend I'm Jeff."

  She wanted to laugh at his joke, but she couldn't even muster it. Instead, she ground her teeth and did the hardest thing she'd ever done in her life.

  She tried to stab him, but the dagger didn't so much as pierce his skin. Stunned, she tried harder, but still it wouldn't budge. "What's wrong?" she asked.

  Acheron grimaced. "Damn. We forgot to drain his Dark-Hunter powers out of him. You can't kill him while he's immortal... at least not and leave his body whole."

  "Then what do we do?"

  Acheron scratched the back of his neck. "I'm not supposed to in­terfere, but what the hell? For you two, I'll make an exception."

  He took the dagger from her hand and plunged it into Rafael's heart, up to its hilt.

  Rafael staggered back before he slid slowly to the floor.

  "Oh God," she cried, horrified by what Acheron had done, as she knelt down beside him.

  Rafael's face was contorted by pain as a small trickle of blood left the corner of his mouth.

  Instinctively, she reached for the dagger to pull it out.

  "Not yet," Acheron said, pulling her back. "He has to die or he can't go free."

  Tears filled her eyes as she panted along with Rafael. He cupped her cheek in his palm as he offered her a small smile. "It's okay, Ce­lena."

  She only hoped he was right.

  Covering his hand with hers, she held it tight as she watched the light fade from his eyes. And she gave a small cry as the last breath was expelled from his body.

  Acheron took the stone from the box and held it out to her. His swirling silver eyes bore into hers. "Don't drop it."

  Nodding, she took it from him only to scream out as a furious pain seared her skin. It burned worse than any imaginable fire and it was all she could do to maintain her hold. The only thing that kept her from releasing it was the knowledge that Rafael would die if she did.

  She ground her teeth as Acheron helped her place the stone over the mark. Tears flowed down her cheeks from the pain and fear as she waited for Rafael to open his eyes.

  It seemed an eternity had passed before Acheron pulled the dagger out of his chest.

  An instant later, Rafael took a deep breath and blinked his eyes open to look at her.

  Celena laughed in giddiness as she saw eyes that were no longer black. Now his eyes were a light amber brown that sparkled with hu­man life. He was even more handsome than he'd been before.

  Biting her lip, she pulled him into her arms and held him close.

  Acheron moved away and returned the dagger to his boot.

  "Thanks, boss," Rafael said as he pushed himself to his feet.

  Acheron gave him a kind grin. "I'm not your boss anymore, Rafael. She is."

  Rafael laughed. "That doesn't bother me."

  Acheron snorted. "Yeah, be glad you're human now. Nothing like answering to one single woman for eleven thousand years to make you wish for the end of time."

  Celena laughed again. "Thank you, Acheron."

  He inclined his head to them. "You kids have fun."

  Rafael looked down at the woman in his arms and tightened his hold on her. "Trust me, we will."

  And as soon as Acheron was gone, Celena pulled him down for a fierce kiss. Rafael's head swam at the taste of her. It was a taste he would now spend the rest of his life savoring.

  * * *

  New York Times bestselling author Sherrilyn Kenyon has more than six million copies of her books in print, in twenty-four coun­tries. She is the author of the Dark-Hunter novels, which have an in­ternational cult following and have appeared on the top-ten lists of The New York Times, The Globe and Mail (Toronto), Publishers Weekly, and USA Today. Writing as both Sherrilyn Kenyon and Kinley Mac-Gregor, she is the author of several other series, including Brother­hood of the Sword, Lords of Avalon, and BAD.

  Near Nashville, Tennessee, Sherrilyn Kenyon lives a life of ex­traordinary danger ... as does any woman with three sons, a hus­band, a menagerie of pets, and a collection of swords on which all of the above have a major fixation.

  Visit her Web sites at www.sherrilynkenyon.com and www.Dark -Hunter.com.

  "... Or Forever Hold Your Piece"

  A Kit and Olivia Adventure

  Susan Krinard

  Author's note: This story is set in an alternate Victorian England, Albion, where magical talents, like land and titles of the peerage, are inherited or "entailed" among the Albian aristocracy. Commoners may sometimes manifest "knacks" or minor Residual Talents,

  . . . Into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined. Therefore if any man can show any just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else here­after for ever hold his—"

  "I have cause!"

  The bishop's mouth dropped open, showing a full set of crooked teeth. The congregation in the pews twisted around with like expres­sions of shock, and a d
eadly hush fell over St. Bertram's-in-the-Fens.

  The man who had spoken stood at the rear of the church, fists clenched in defiance. Though he wore respectable-enough clothing and his hair was neatly combed, his accent was that of the Eirish commons, and it was immediately clear to Lady Olivia Dowling that he did not belong in this exalted company of Albion's most noble patricians. Lord Edward Parish, still kneeling at the altar, glared at the intruder with such ire that he seemed very apt to display his Lucifer-ian powers and start a fire right then and there.

  "Who are you?" he demanded.

  The unwelcome guest faltered beneath several score hostile, un­wavering stares and then gathered his courage. "My name does not matter," he said, his voice booming up to the buttresses. He looked directly at Lady Emma, bride-to-be and daughter of the Earl of Wakefield. "If only you had told me the truth. I would have under­stood. I—"

  He broke off, his ruddy skin going pale. Olivia frowned and stud­ied him more carefully, sinking deep into her Talent as an Anatomist. The man's body betrayed him. His heart had begun to beat very fast, his palms to sweat, his eyes to widen with violent alarm. Olivia glanced again at Edward, who still stood at the altar. Lady Emma swayed, and Edward caught her against him.

  The bishop finally found his voice. "Who are you?" he echoed. "You have interrupted a most solemn ceremony. What have you to say?"

  When it was over, Olivia could not have said precisely what she had felt before the man bolted. It was rather as if she heard some­thing through his ears, an eerie wail that could not have come from a mortal throat. She knew that the stranger was consumed by such dreadful fear that it seemed that his heart must burst from his body.

  He spun about, fell to one knee, scrambled to his feet, and charged for the doors, keening in despair.

  A woman screamed. Everyone rose in a rustle of long skirts and the shuffle of polished shoes, and a trio of guests at the rear of the nave pursued the intruder out into the watery London sunshine. Olivia heard a rough, masculine cry of sheer terror, and then silence. A moment later one of the guests returned, his expression set and grim. He started for the altar, where Lady Emma trembled in Ed­ward's arms.