After The I Do

by Autumn Breeze

  "The longer you argue, the more time we waste."

  Damn. He has a point. By fighting him, I will be wasting valuable time and the expression on his face promises a fight if I don’t let him help.

  As my husband, as the man who will be my right hand when I take over as head of the family, he has the right to help; he deserves the respect that comes with letting him assist me in the problems that will arise.

  "We need to hurry."

  Everett starts out of the room. ”What are you waiting on?”

  After casting one last glance to Benjamin who is sitting up and breathing easier, I follow Everett.

  We make it to the docks in under an hour.

  The thick cloud of smoke that can be seen from ten miles away and smells of impending trouble hangs over everything. Firemen are covered in soot and poking at the charred remains of the building.

  Just by looking at it, I know everything is lost.

  "Damn," I swear, shoving my fingers into my hair. Three decades of research is lost. It has literally gone up in smoke. "Son of a bitch!” I close my eyes.

  "How can I help?" Everett asks and I shake my head. There is nothing to be done. "Surely there must be something we can d—"

  "Thanos!" Duke Cooper jogging across the wet asphalt with a solemn frown. "You better get your lawyer on the phone. Valentine is here."

  Valentine Knight, a Valkyrie, is lead detective in the Necropolis P.D. and his boss. She's always found the friendship between Duke and I fishy since he is a human and my preferred food source. It doesn’t help that she has a healthy dislike for the Moroi clan.

  Her presence here means she is looking for dirt. If I call my lawyer before she manages to ask a few questions, the woman will believe she's found a gold mine and dig like a determined miner. I'll have to endure.

  "So much for holding down the fort,” I say.

  Duke shrugs as if this is just any other day on the job.

  I shake my head—again.

  The warehouse burning and Valentine taking an interest spells bad news for the family if I don’t manage to distract her. The woman is like a bloodhound and not easily stirred off her chosen course. As of late, that course has been one that seems to always put me on her radar.

  "I tried my be—"

  "Cooper!" Duke groans at the sound of his name. "You were under orders not to speak with Mr. Right until after I had." He rubs the back of his neck as he turns toward his boss, who marches toward us with a disapproving scowl.

  Her dislike for my best friend is as clear as her distaste for the Moroi clan. If she had the power, she'd have him thrown off the force and kicked out of Necropolis. Since he is the human liaison, that power is beyond her, but she can suspend him if he pushes her far enough.

  He has done an awful lot of pushing lately.

  "Was I?" he questions.

  "Get the hell out of here," she snaps and he flounces off without so much as a backward glance. If I didn't know better, I'd say he is a traitor.

  "Mr. Right," Valentine comes to a stop in front of Everett and me. "Congratulations on your nuptials. I saw the announcement in the paper. Frankly, I'm a little surprised, but far be it from me to discuss your poor choices.” My jaw clenches but I know better than to allow her to bait me. “Let's talk about the fire and your warehouse." I sigh.

  Why do I keep having these long nights?

  When am I going to catch a break?

  "What do you need to know, detective?" She digs in her back pocket, pulling out a pen and small notebook.

  "What exactly was this warehouse used for?" I lift one shoulder in a careless shrug, looking at the blackened remains. My heart is broken, but I can’t let on that seeing the destruction makes me want to commit murder, after a fit of justified rage.

  "Mostly storage; furniture from the old country, I believe. I'll have to check my records to be sure." She hums, her disbelief even more obvious than her dislike.

  "Why would a storage warehouse need guards?" Everett leans into my side, one of his arms curving around my waist and I toss my arm over his shoulder.

  "In this part of the city, fire hydrants need guards," he snips. "Why would it be unusual for a warehouse to have them, especially if it's a storage unit filled with family heirlooms?"

  Valentine clicks her pen and closes her notepad.

  "Would you accompany me to the precinct to answer a few more questions, Mr. Right? Your husband is more than welcome to accompany us.”

  Her questions will take hours and undoubtedly be highly invasive but if I refuse a probable chemical fire, and the accidental death of two guards will turn into an arson and murder investigation.

  "Of course; I want to do whatever I can to help."

  13

  Overhead, the fluorescent light flickers every couple of seconds, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything else. Not that the barren room Valentine has put us in has much to focus on. With a total of one table, four chairs, a two-way mirror, and one door—thoroughly inspected for any possible flaws already—my attention has drifted to Everett, as he is far more interesting than the interrogation room's decor.

  Rolling his forehead against the metal table, he rubs the back of his neck and yawns before his arms stretch out in front of him. It is well into the night now and my patience is running out the hungrier I become.

  Besides being tired, Everett seems to be taking all of this in stride. He yawns once more, pushing back so he is sitting in his chair. “How much longer do you think we’ll be here?”

  I check my wrist watch and sigh. We arrived at a little after noon and it is now nearly nine o’clock at night. Once or twice someone came in to give us a drink or deliver a piece of information, but so far, Valentine hasn’t shown.

  It is unlike her not to come running with a million and one questions about things that are none of her business, but I am not complaining about her absence. Mostly, I am annoyed we are kept waiting while she is a no-show.

  “Considering it has been nine hours already, I don’t believe Valentine could keep us waiting much longer.”

  Where the hell is she? What the hell is keeping her? And considering how much time has lapsed since our arrival, does she really expect us to keep waiting? After nine hours of this god-awful room, would she really be surprised not to find us in it anymore when she eventually shows up? If I was her, I'd be more surprised that someone waited so long.

  Everett groans, flopping back against the table. It shifts under his weight as the chair he is sitting in squeals its own protest. The furniture in here has to be decades old and our weight isn’t doing it any favors. If either of us wiggle around much more, we'll be relaxing in a pile of rubble.

  “How much trouble will we be in if we sneak out the back?” Everett asks. I stand up, using my foot to push my chair in. He is ready to go and so am I. Staying here, waiting on a woman who has let us twiddle our thumbs for so long is being far more courteous than Valentine deserves. It is time to go home, or at least to the family estate and get a good night’s rest before dealing with the consequences of the fire.

  “Let’s go.” I hold my hand out to Everett and he grasps it, stumbling to his feet.

  “Really?” Pulling him behind me, I approach the door.

  A detective rises to his feet as Everett and I step out of the room. “Sir—”

  “If I’m not under arrest, you have no reason to detain me. Am I under arrest?” I lift an eyebrow. The man opens and closes his mouth a few times as he looks between Everett and me. No doubt he is under orders to keep us for as long as possible. Nine hours will have to be enough to satisfy his boss. “Well?”

  “No but—”

  “In that case—” I cut across him, pulling Everett to my side as I do so, “—we’re going. Excuse us.” The man sputters but doesn’t move to stop us as I pull Everett down the hallway.

  It only takes a couple of minutes to navigate our way out of the Necropolis P.D. and find my car. Everett collapses into the passenger s
eat with an exhausted sigh.

  “I’ve come to hate the city, you know?” Reaching up, he drags his hands down his face. “I hate how crowded it is, how it is so noisy, and don’t get me started on the smell. I’m ready to go home.” I grimace as I start the car.

  “Everett—” he groans, pulling his seatbelt across his chest.

  “I know that voice. It's your, ‘I’m terribly sorry, but there is business I must attend to,’ voice.” He sighs. “Where to?”

  Extending my hand, I run my knuckles down his jaw with a soft smile. His fingers wrap around my wrist before he turns his head and presses his warm lips against my fingers.

  “My family’s estate; we can spend the night and maybe have dinner somewhere in the city tomorrow? If at all possible, maybe we could catch a movie, too.” That will give me a chance to use early Wednesday morning to clean up the disaster surrounding the warehouse and reorganize the laboratory while not neglecting Everett.

  “Like a date?” he questions and I nod.

  “Exactly.” He grins, his jaw pressing against my palm after he uncurls my fingers. My hand slides along his flesh until my fingers are buried in his hair.

  He is close enough to kiss, close enough to pull across the space that separates us and devour, but it is necessary to continue to refrain from assaulting him; not that it would be much of an assault since I have no doubt he is willing.

  Now isn’t the time and my car isn’t the place.

  “We haven’t had one of those,” he whispers. I smile slightly.

  “Seems like we are long overdue.” By the time wedding vows are said, most people have been on countless dates and know everything about each other. Everett is still very much a stranger, but maybe a date will be a good step in changing that fact. It will, at the very least, give us an opportunity to enjoy the finer things the city has to offer.

  “I couldn’t agree more.” He kisses my fingertips once more before releasing me so I can back out of our parking spot.

  It doesn’t take long to arrive at my family estate, but by then Everett has drifted off in the passenger seat. I loathe to wake him after such a long day, but reach over and gently shake him, anyway. He grumbles but climbs out of the car and takes my hand as I lead us up a set of stairs.

  Before I can knock on the door, it is pulled open by my father who looks as exhausted as I feel. His hair is out of place and dark circles have formed under his eyes. The lines on his forehead are drawn.

  “Athanasios—” my full name is such a rarity from my father. Hearing it makes my stomach roll. “—my office.”

  “Give me a moment,” I tell the old man and he nods before disappearing down the hallway without protest, which is unlike him. Everett sways and I slip my arm around his waist, pulling him against my chest. “Let’s get you settled.” He shakes his head before dropping it against my shoulder and giving a small yawn.

  “I don’t mind waiting.” This time, I shake my head though he can’t see the action with his face pressed against my neck.

  “I know, but it's been a long day and if you’re in bed, I’ll have an excuse to leave my father to his brooding sooner.”

  Everett laughs softly, pulling back. His blue eyes are glassy. Neither of us have eaten but I doubt either of us will be awake long enough to enjoy a proper meal.

  “All right, where am I sleeping?” I turn us, guiding him toward the stairs.

  He puts most of his weight on me and I am tempted to pick him up, but refrain because I know he prefers to walk. Not to mention, if Lilith, Sophia, or Mason see me carrying him, we’ll never live it down. They’ll all attempt to blackmail me with the information. Each of them will promise to sell Duke the information. He'll mock me endlessly for being a devout husband as if there is shame in it.

  “The mythical land of my teenage bedroom. Pre-warning, I had a very dominant punk-grunge stage that I only just managed to grow out of.”

  “Oh my—” he chuckles, “—dangerous waters.”

  Pulling him against me, I join in with his laugh, but lead him the rest of the way to my bedroom in silence. After finding a pair of pajamas and making sure he is settled comfortably, I leave in search of my father. He is sitting in the near dark, his back to his office door with a tumbler of whisky sitting on the table beside him.

  “What an utter disaster,” he speaks once I shut the office door and proceed into the room. He stumbles to his feet and goes to the whiskey cabinet to pour another glass. I accept the drink with a tired sigh. He ambles back to his own seat and sinks with a groan. Age seems as if it is catching up with him.

  “Tomorrow, I will start looking for another location to begin operations again. The warehouse was just one of a dozen labs. The setback is measurable, for sure, but not completely devastating.” I hope that is the case, anyway.

  “The research being conducted on synthetic blood is the key to extending our lives indefinitely. If successful, it will make us indistinguishable from our cousins. The research we lost tonight is priceless.” I nod, understanding the gravity of the situation because he has been stressing the importance of developing a blood substitute that would cure us of our mortality and other pesky human problems since I was only a boy.

  Tonight, I am just too tired to fix the problems that have occurred today. After some rest, I will take time to hire an outside investigator and read over the fire marshal’s reports so I can properly piece together what happened.

  If I have to guess, I would say a chemical reaction caused an explosion that the fire department wasn’t able to put out with water. Accidents happen all the time in laboratories all over the country. One of ours was bound to join the ranks at some point.

  “There's nothing else we can do today,” I tell father. He rubs his hand down his face with a tired scowl as I tip my whiskey up and swallow the two fingers he poured.

  “I’m tired, Athanasios,” he speaks lowly, his voice weary, catching ever so slightly on my name, “I’m getting old, son.” I frown, not liking the way this conversation is going. The last thing I want to hear him admit to is getting old, to being tired.

  I don’t need to him admit to either. I see the evidence in the wrinkles around his eyes and the white hair decorating his scalp. In this moment, he seems so much older, so much weaker than he’s ever been and a real fear claws at the back of my throat. This man is nearing his nineties and although that isn’t old by Moroii standards, it is middle aged; it is . . . the beginning of the end.

  What will I do when I lose him?

  He is the backbone of this family and has been my rock for so long, it is hard to imagine a time without him. A time will come when he will pass into dust. The sun will rise on his final day and I will have to say my goodbyes. My heart hurts just looking at him, thinking of that approaching time. His final day will be the worst of my life.

  “It’s a frightening thing when you look at mortality and it looks back at you, isn’t it?” he asks before he tips his whisky back. I swallow around a sudden lump in my throat. I always knew our lives were painfully short compared to our ancestors but I never realized what that truly meant until now. One day, everyone I love will die. The day isn’t as far off as I’d like.

  “Dad—”

  “Go join your husband, Thanos. That boy looks smitten. I’m glad for it.” He pushes to his feet, moving toward the whisky cabinet again.

  I look down at my glass before setting it on the table. Everett is waiting and if I know him, he is probably struggling to stay awake, determined to wait until I join him before he goes to sleep. There is no sense in delaying, not when I’ve been dismissed.

  “Night, Father,” I say, looking toward the haggard man.

  He turns to me, lifting the glass in his fingers. “Sleep well, son.”

  14

  After shutting the door to my teenage bedroom, I strip as tired yawn after yawn splits my lips. Today has been long and it is finally—thankfully—coming to its blessed end. After nine hours of waiting on a woman who did
n’t show, I am ready to lay next to my husband and simply sleep until the sun rises over Necropolis.

  Dragging my feet across the floor, I barely manage to slip on a pair of pajamas before I fall on the bed beside Everett. Every muscle protests as I push the blanket down past my hips then use my feet to move them out from under me before I pull them over my body.

  A groan of relief vibrates my chest as I settle on the mattress I spent many nights on as a younger man before rolling over. My arm snakes around Everett’s lithe body and I draw him back against my chest with a content sigh. He exhales heavily, his fingers lacing with mine in an all too familiar comfort. Being beside him instantly puts me at ease. Our relationship has advanced enough for me to care deeply for him and to know he cares for me as well.

  Closing my eyes, I press a soft kiss to his shoulder and he wiggles against me, snuggling closer as we enjoy the warmth of our embrace. He smells like paint thinner and burning wood, but that is his normal aroma and has nothing to do with the warehouse fire. I breathe deeply, sinking further into the mattress and pulling Everett tighter against my chest.

  There is the honk of a horn, the barking of multiple dogs, followed up by the screaming of city inhabits for peace just outside the window. It is as familiar as the stillness of my estate. I enjoy the sounds as they surround me. A smile pulls at my lips as the city noise starts to grow distant.

  “It’s so loud here,” Everett’s voice comes through a tunnel as he whines. Bending at the waist, he drags a spare pillow over his head with a huff of annoyance. Pressing my forehead against his shoulders, I squeeze him in comfort. After all of our nights out of the city, the noise here must have assaulted him like a ship's foghorn.

  “I’m sorry,” I mutter against his flesh, “We’ll go home tomorrow.” It will take longer than a day to recover from our losses, but I can make phone calls and enact new plans from the comfort of my home office.

  Everett can sit on my lap or lounge close by as we both work quietly. When the mood strikes, we can get lunch or go for our walk. The routine is comfortable and I have no desire to break our growing habits. Anything that requires a physical presence for, I can send Duke or someone equally as qualified. There is no real reason to stay in the city.