After The I Do

by Autumn Breeze

  My eyes drop over him, taking in details I shouldn’t care about or notice. Or maybe I am supposed to notice. He is my husband, after all. That makes him mine, by law. In return, I am his. Does he know that yet?

  “A walk?” I nod, my fingers linking behind my back as I lift my gaze away from his narrow waist and lean hips. His brow pulls down as he inspects me with suspicion.

  “You haven’t been outside yet so I thought maybe you might like to explore the property a little while getting some fresh air.”

  The area all around the estate is full of trails that I often find myself roaming in my free time. It is a great way to relax and forget about the responsibilities of the world for a little while. Everett and I could use a little forgetting.

  “Am I required to wear a leash?”

  I open my mouth but close it, too stunned to find an appropriate response. The obvious answer is no.

  Why would I make him wear a leash?

  Is that the kind of man he’s judged me to be?

  Is that the kind of man my reputation says I am?

  Does it matter?

  He has his opinion and obviously it isn’t one I’m able to change since he isn’t even willing to give me a chance. That is fine. If we are to live as strangers, so be it.

  “Forget it.” I turn toward the door. There is work I can tend to. Business would fall behind in the two weeks I am supposed to take off, but it doesn’t have to. I can get back to managing the business aspects my father long ago handed over to my control.

  “Wait.” Fingers snag the back of my shirt, pulling me to a sharp stop. “I would like to go for a walk.”

  After being cooped up in the house for two days, I am not surprised. This place could drive anyone mad. It is why I invited him out, but his sanity isn’t my concern. I am going to make it a priority not to be concerned about him anymore, if every time I do it is tossed back in my face.

  That is just asking for trouble.

  “You’re free to come and go as you please,” I tell him, turning around. “Maintain your friendships and enjoy your hobbies. I’ve already had a bank account set up in your name and deposited an allowance. Until your card arrives, my wallet is at your disposal. If you wish to go into the city, a set of keys can be collected from Benjamin.”

  Whatever companionship we could have tried for is out of reach considering he isn’t even willing to try. This marriage can be a business transaction, as originally intended.

  He can live here; I can provide comfortably for him. Our clans can coexist. It is all very simple and clean, even if we share a bed.

  “Enjoy your walk.” He can enjoy the property, this sunroom or any part of the house he pleases and I will keep my distance. It won’t be hard considering I spend most of my days in my office when I am home. If he takes up residence in this room, we’ll have a whole house between us.

  I have a feeling that will suit Everett just fine.

  “I thought you were coming,” Everett calls as I tuck one hand into my pocket and start to leave.

  “I had intended to, but it seems I misplaced my leash. Pity.” I shrug, the action far more casual than most would manage under the circumstances.

  The olive branch has been extended and rejected. There is no need to waste time crying over spilled milk. Rejection is a part of life and I have lived long enough to know it doesn’t kill you. It is disappointing, but what is life but a series of disappointments?

  “Thanos—” fingers close around my wrist, “I’m sorry. I was—am being unfair. You’re not judging me because of who—what I am and I should give you the same courtesy. A walk together sounds lovely. Maybe I can see the horses?” Everett inquires while meeting my gaze. There is just enough uncertainty in his voice for me to know he expects me to tell him to go to hell after his imprudent and hostile behavior.

  He would deserve it if I blew him off but this can’t be about tit for tat if it is going to be anything, even just business.

  “I did agree to show you them when you were settled,” I tentatively say.

  “I’m settled now,” he answers, releasing my wrist.

  “In that case, I see no reason why we can’t visit the stables.” I lay my hand against his back, thankful he doesn’t flinch as I push him toward the doorway.

  Everett perks up; his mood shifts dramatically as a happy skip enters his step and we travel outside. I let him bounce around and take in our surroundings. It is clear from his wide eyes and happy sighs he is enjoying the open space.

  It is a completely different setting from the city where he was born.

  “Mr. Right, good to see you,” one of my stable hands says as we approach. I smile, laying my hand against Everett’s shoulder to encourage him forward. His steps slow the closer we get to the horse barn.

  Maybe he can smell the blood that cakes the interior of holding cells below. A lot of Vârcolaci have died on this property. It is a comfort that he will never be among those numbers. No Vârcolac has to die here ever again because of my clan.

  “Mr. Graham, this is my husband, Everett.” Luke, the Moroi who maintains the stables, comes forward after dusting his hand off. Extending it to Everett, he smiles.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Right.” Everett’s brows pulls down before he slowly reaches out and shakes Luke’s hand.

  “Nice to meet you as well, Mr. Graham,” Everett replies.

  Is it? I wonder but don’t say anything.

  “Everyone—almost everyone, calls me Luke. You can, too.”

  Everett nods. “Luke,” he says, testing the name on his tongue. “You can call me Everett.”

  “We won’t be in your way for long,” I assure Luke.

  “Take your time,” he says, reaching for the wide-ended broom and pushing it across the concrete floor again.

  Guiding Everett down the wide hall, I pass a number of empty stalls before coming to an occupied one. Clicking my tongue, I encourage the creature inside to come to the door. She nickers, eagerly approaching.

  “Wow,” Everett breathes. “It’s amazing.”

  “This is Jubilee.” Reaching out, I rub her snout. She snorts, nuzzling against my hand. Curling my fingers into the side of her halter, I hold her head still and scratch behind her ear. She rolls into the touch with another happy nicker.

  “After I bought the estate, she was the first mare I purchased.” Smiling, my fingers move to tease the space between her eyes.

  “She’s beautiful.” Everett extends his hand. She snorts loudly, tossing her head and pulling out of my grasp. Dancing away, she retreats into the stall with a roar. It is a rare sound; one made during intense fear or rage—sometimes both. This time is clearly about fear as her nostrils flare.

  “She smells the wolf in you,” I tell him, clicking my tongue to call her back. She snorts, tossing her head, but takes a couple of hesitant steps forward. “That’s it, old girl,” I encourage. She squeals, retreating back into her safe place.

  Looking around, I spot an old ice cream box sitting on a couple of hay bales.

  “Wait here,” I tell Everett before going to retrieve the box. He watches me come back with it, one of his eyebrows raised. I pop the lid, pulling out a couple of tiny white squares. “Sugar cubes,” I explain, setting them on the edge of the door. Jubilee notices them; she hesitates before coming forward and claiming her treat.

  I take a firm hold of her halter. She bucks, but I hold her tightly, clicking my tongue to offer comfort. With my other hand, I grab Everett’s hand.

  “Slowly, she’s scared. It’s natural.”

  He nods, seemingly holding his breath.

  “It’s okay, darling,” I whisper to Jubilee. “Are you enjoying your treats?” I ask. She nickers, her mouth moving over the doorway, but not finding anymore. Everett’s fingers touch her jaw. She snorts, trying to shy away but I hold her still. “Talk to her. It helps.”

  His fingers scratch her jaw lightly. “Hi, Jubilee, I’m Everett,” he whispers. “I don’t mean you any har
m.” She nickers, tossing her head but not trying to escape. “You don’t have anything to fear from me. I’m not a very good Vârcolac.”

  I glance toward him, but he is looking at Jubilee, scratching behind her ear. After a couple of minutes, I release her halter and she prances away, retreating from the unknown.

  “Let’s go for that walk,” I say. Everett nods and we leave the stables. Both of us are silent as we travel toward the East Woods.

  The weather is warm, the air sweet, and the sun not so high in the sky it is at risk of scorching me. A gentle breeze blows through the fields, the grass sways and bends with the gust. It whips through the trees just ahead and kicks up the smell of the fresh flowers all around.

  I sigh softly, tipping my head back and basking in the peace before looking toward my companion. Everett is inspecting the field surrounding us.

  “What did you mean, when you said you weren’t a very good Vârcolac?” I ask. Everett shrugs, glancing in my direction before tipping his head back to take in the clouds. They are huge, white misshapen marshmallows that seem to devour the sky. A storm is probably on the horizon.

  “I’m just not.”

  That isn’t an explanation, but eventually I hope as we learn to trust one another, and start to talk to each other, share something of ourselves while we build this life, he will explain. My parents’ marriage was arranged, but it is a happy union. Ours can be, too.

  “I have no objections if you want to run,” I inform him.

  Everett’s eyes widen in surprise and . . . joy?

  He looks utterly delighted.

  “Really?” he asks, stopping in the middle of the trail, before we reach the woods. I nod. Running probably isn’t something he gets to do very often.

  In the city, it is dangerous for a Vârcolac to run. Not only do they become a target, but they become one that draws a lot of attention. No one wants attention during a clan war.

  “I’ll hold your clothes.”

  He is already kicking his shoes off and yanking his shirt over his head. I catch it when he tosses his shirt toward me.

  “Oh man, oh man, oh man,” he chants, pushing his pants and boxers down his hips.

  I really shouldn’t look but I do and am not disappointed. He is well-formed, as most Vârcolaci are. Wide shoulders and a broad chest hold well-defined muscles. His narrow waist widens into lean hips and thick muscular thighs. What hangs between those thighs is just as impressive as the rest of him. I should be ashamed of myself for looking but I’m not.

  “I won’t go far,” he says, shoving his pants into my arms. I laugh softly as he steps back, clearly eager to run.

  Thick fur begins to sprout from his chest, arms and legs. Collapsing to his knees with a high-pitched whine, his body convulses while the transformation holds him. I watch with rapt attention, fascinated by the change that overcomes him.

  When it is done, a brown and toffee wolf about the size of a lion hops around in the tall wheat grass before breaking into a sprint.

  That’s what happiness looks like.

  There is a loud howl as Everett’s body rises above the high grass. He crashes down about thirty feet away, rolling through the stocks while barking and whining.

  That’s what happiness sounds like.

  That is pure, unadulterated joy.

  A smile touches my lips.

  “You know.” I bend at the waist, setting his clothes in a pile on the ground, “Moroii are fast creatures. I think I can outrun you.” A wolf’s head, then shoulders appear in the wheat grass as Everett stalks toward me. “What do you think?” He snorts, dipping his shoulder.

  “Shall we try?” I ask. He circles me and I turn, watching him. His eyes are just as blue, just as striking as the first moment I saw them. “Do I get a head start?”

  Everett leaps forward, his head pressing against my stomach as he shoves me backwards. I turn, take a single step and break into a hard run. Behind me, I hear the pounding of four paws. They seem to keep time with every step I take. Even as the world blurs, I swear I can feel Everett’s breath on my neck.

  Glancing over my shoulders, I stumble and twist just in time to catch a set of paws to my chest. Everett’s weight pins me. He isn’t as heavy as some of his brethren but he is just as strong. In this form, we would be evenly matched, or just so. Either one of us would come out the winner in a real brawl.

  Who is the winner now?

  From the lopsided grin, I bet Everett thinks it is himself. “This doesn’t count. I tripped.”

  He tosses his head and I can almost imagine he scoffs. My chest shakes softly with a laugh. He flops down, pinning me with his weight and a hard stare.

  “You can’t suffocate me. And I refuse to call this defeat.”

  Stretching out, he gets comfortable. Reaching up, my fingers sink into his fur as I shove hard. He teeters on top of me but doesn’t shift away. His head rolls until my shoulder is trapped under his jaw. This is the first time in my life a Vârcolac has effectively pinned me. Maybe because it is the first time I am not fighting tooth and nail to stay alive.

  In fact, I’m not worried at all.

  Relaxing into the dirt, I toss my arms out.

  “I’m fine with lying here forever,” I declare.

  Everett’s chest cavity shakes and I wonder if that is laughter. Turning my head, I am eye level with him. His own eyes are closed as his nose presses into the grass. He inhales deeply, enjoying his contact with the earth. Reaching up again, I push my fingers through the fur along his neck.

  His eyes snap open and I offer a smile.

  “Maybe not forever,” I concede softly, “but at least until you admit you won by fluke.”

  Everett rolls his eyes, his head dropping onto my shoulder once more. My fingers slide through his fur another time. He is soft, much more than I thought a wolf would be. He doesn’t smell like wet dog either.

  The scent is . . . paint and dirt, maybe charcoal and fire.

  It isn’t unpleasant. This moment isn’t either.

  It is actually . . . kind of nice.

  6

  For the first time in a long time, I am physically tired when I fall into bed. The day has been long, and hard. Everett and I have spent most of our time outside. He laid on me, smothering me well into the evening hours. I might have roasted if not for the fact that he blocked most of the sunlight. Honestly, I enjoyed doing nothing with him while the world passed us by.

  Dinner had been a quiet affair where we talked, trading useless information to better know one another.

  I find Everett has no true dislike for Moroii. The war is our respective fore-fathers’ and he’s always found it senseless. On that, we can agree.

  It is rare to find someone on the other side of the battle lines who shares the same ideas as yourself, but that’s exactly what has happened in marrying Everett.

  He is a good companion. The more we talk, the more I find I like him. He is intelligent and bold. The mouse has slipped away during the course of the day. He has stopped flinching; maybe because he’s finally accepted that he is in no danger. He wouldn’t have transformed, chased me through a field and spent hours being stroked otherwise, right?

  Drawing the blanket around my shoulders, I turn to face Everett. He isn’t so far on his side of the bed, out of my reach. Our legs brush under the bedspread, but neither one of us pull away. It would be silly to withdraw now when he laid on me all afternoon and spent most of the night before pressed against my side for warmth.

  “I ha—” Everett reaches up, covering his mouth mid yawn, “—fun today.”

  I smile, tucking one of my arms under my pillow. Today has been fun. It’s the best day we’ve spent together so far despite its rocky start. Maybe because for a little bit, we forgot about the outside world, that this marriage is an arrangement and we are supposed to be enemies attempting peace.

  When I set his clothes in a pile on the ground, I wasn’t thinking about my duty to my family—my clan. Instead, I was thinkin
g about how happy Everett seemed frolicking in the wheat, howling at the wind and rolling through the dirt.

  Watching him, I wanted some of that happiness and knew joining in was an excellent way to get it.

  “You enjoyed tackling me then spending half the day suffocating me,” I tease him, reaching out to push some of his shaggy hair back.

  It is the same color as his wolf, maybe a little darker, but just as soft. He turns into the touch, maybe remembering how my fingers caressed him earlier. He grumbled in satisfaction every time I tugged my fingers through his fur.

  “When you put it that way—” he pauses, humming, “yes.”

  I laugh and he joins in. It is a good sound considering how depressed he looked the day we wed. I wasn’t sure if either of us would ever laugh again after exchanging vows.

  “I enjoyed the day, too, even if you refuse to admit I tripped.”

  In reality, I did trip. When I looked over my shoulder and saw him sailing through the air toward me, I had a moment of pure panic. It was by instinct alone I turned and caught his paws to the chest. Instead of ripping me apart like I feared he would for half a second, he got comfortable.

  Everett means no harm and neither do I. Just as I am, he is trying to find a comfortable way of existing. Today was a good step in the right direction. We proved to each other that we can trust, and be accepting. It took a hell of a lot of trust to be defenseless with each other, but we did it.

  He did it the first night he laid in my bed and I did it today by letting him run through the wheat, tackle me as if I was his prey, and then just lay there while he enjoyed being outside.

  Those are things I don’t think many other Moroii and Vârcolaci would do together without fear, or do period.

  “Do you really want me to admit you tripped?” He lifts an eyebrow and I look him over.

  It might have been the truth but do I really want him to acknowledge I stumbled over my own feet? Tripping meant if he had really been a danger, I’d have been dead meat by my own stupidity. How . . . embarrassing.