by Sierra Dean
“Did you need some reading material in case you got bored?” Dominick asked sarcastically, grabbing the paper. “What’s in the news?”
Ignoring the jab from Dom, Desmond said, “More of the same. Who should govern us? Can we govern ourselves? Can the vampires be trusted? Sounds like France is taking a progressive approach. They just legalized marriage between the living and the undead.” He glanced over to me and winked. My heart caught in my throat.
“The Republicans must love that,” Cas, Dominick’s boyfriend, said with a chuckle, squeezing Dom’s hand.
“Well, it’s a step in the right direction.”
“And what do our friends on the Tribunal think?” Dom asked.
Desmond shrugged. “Holden seems to be the most forward thinking of the lot. And he does well in front of the press.”
“Probably because he’s so pretty,” Cas suggested.
“Maybe. Either way, he’s gaining a lot of positivity towards the vampire cause. Which is more than I can say for your intrepid pack king.”
“Oh, come on. You weren’t that bad in the last interview.”
“No one told me media junkets were going to be part of the job.”
“At the time, no one knew,” Dom reminded him.
“Lucas would have been so much better at this.”
“He’s not here, though, and you are. There’s no sense in dwelling on it. Last time I checked the dead weren’t coming back.”
The desk clerk informed me there was nothing she could do to move me up in the queue, so I took the hint and rejoined our group. “Well, some of the dead come back. Just not the ones who are good at politics.”
Grandmere was not amused. “Secret,” she grumbled, clucking her tongue. “It’s bad enough the boys are talking politics at a time like this. Don’t you start making jokes.”
She didn’t need to remind me how lucky I was. I knew perfectly well what a gift I had been given. Funny how I’d needed to die to learn to respect my life.
And now that I had it back, I wasn’t about to squander it. “Did you get it?” I asked Desmond, lifting his newspaper to see what was underneath.
Desmond smiled and pulled an envelope out of his blazer pocket, handing it across the table to me. I peeked inside, and my heart skipped a beat. I couldn’t keep the smile off my face if I tried.
“You really don’t mind doing it this way?” I gestured to the city hall lobby, which wasn’t completely rebuilt yet, with a plastic sheet covering one damaged wall and a few windows still boarded up.
He took my hand and kissed my fingers. “Not at all.”
“Mom is pissed you’re not doing it in a church,” Dom whispered.
Grace Alvarez, who had been busy fussing with Penny’s hair, didn’t miss the remark. She slapped Dominick lightly in the back of the head.
“Mom doesn’t care what her boys do as long as they’re happy.” She directed this statement mostly to Cas, who flushed. For a long time Dom had been afraid to admit the truth to his family, so I was pleased to see Grace was making an effort to show him she didn’t care if he was gay or not.
Honestly I’d been more worried about her reaction to our quickie wedding. I’d jokingly suggested we should run off to Vegas to avoid the wrath, but Desmond had vetoed that idea immediately. And he was right, it wouldn’t have been the same doing this anywhere else. This was our home and these people were our family. Anything else would have felt like cheating.
“I’d get married in a parking lot at this point.” Desmond never took his eyes off me.
I looked out the window, faintly embarrassed by the directness of his gaze. It felt like we’d taken the long way getting here. Des had wanted to get married right away, but I had insisted we wait. Things in New York were a mess, and even though I never second-guessed my decision to marry him, a wedding wasn’t my first priority. The repair efforts had to come first, and there was a lot of fallout to deal with after we’d saved the city. The buildings weren’t the only thing that needed rebuilding.
It had taken me a few months to really feel like myself again, to believe I was alive and that I could enjoy the sun-filled days. Last time it had happened it was taken from me so quickly I half-expected Aubrey to show up and snatch it away again.
It had been six months since I’d craved blood or hidden from the sun, and I was finally ready to move forward with my life.
Coming back from the dead was not the easiest affair, as it turned out. Even after Lucas’s funeral it had taken me weeks to regain any real strength. After I left Calliope’s for good, it was impossible to settle into a routine. New York had changed, and just as I’d predicted, the world had changed along with it.
The news was beside itself reporting on what had happened, and the government decided it was an ideal time to bring its black-ops group to the forefront. Now Tyler and Emilio were nationally recognized experts on the supernatural, and I had been thrust into the spotlight right alongside them as the only female member of their team.
Since I wasn’t a paranormal creature myself anymore, I didn’t mind the scrutiny. But they learned pretty quickly I wasn’t the best face to put forward to the media after I called a CNN reporter an asshole on live television.
To be fair, he had called werewolves freaks of nature.
Now, six months down the road, this new version of my life was starting to feel like real life, however bizarre it might be. Hell’s Kitchen was slowly returning to normal, but I found I no longer felt at home in my old apartment. That was where I’d lived when I hid from the sun and tried to be alone. Desmond’s building had made it through the bedlam unscathed, and since I no longer feared his big windows, it was the most logical place for me to go. We were engaged after all, and we’d lived together previously. It made sense. So I’d moved the few items I cared about in there, along with a very enthusiastic Rio, who was getting fatter by the month on all the Fancy Feast she could eat.
I glanced down the bench to the people who had taken the time to be with us today. Shane had his chin perched on Siobhan’s shoulder and was rubbing her belly. They had apparently had more fun than they’d let on during their battle in Brooklyn, because she was now six months pregnant. They both glowed from happiness, and I couldn’t help but smile. Good things had come from the wreckage. Not to mention that kid would put my former ass-kicking skills to shame.
Mercedes and Owen sat next to them, casting barely concealed glances at the pair. A small gold engagement ring adorned Cedes’s finger, something Owen had given her the day after we laid Lucas to rest. Our ordeal that night had left most of us desperate to embrace life, and seeing everyone move forward had helped me put some of the darkness behind me.
After Lucas’s funeral we’d had to face some pretty jarring legal realities. Desmond might have been king, but all of Lucas’s property and wealth had been willed to me. I’d donated most of the money in his private holdings to various projects to help restore the city, but I made sure to keep the upstate mansion so the pack always had a place to go. Dominick and Cas had moved in there as the permanent caretakers, whenever Dom wasn’t busy acting as Desmond’s guard.
Keaty, too, had left everything to me in his will, though this had surprised me a great deal less than it had with Lucas. Even now, months after we buried him, I still hadn’t been able to go to the old brownstone, let alone prepare it for sale. I hadn’t finished mourning him, and until I did there was no way I could let those last pieces of him go. Some things would take more time than others.
Clementine was making a glorious nuisance of herself on the West Coast, but was otherwise thriving. Sutherland had taken over my old apartment because his own building had been declared unsafe. He was faring decently, though I hadn’t seen much of him since Lucas’s funeral. I think I made him nervous now that I was back from the dead.
Desmond glanced at his watch, and we both stared at the LED screen.
It flipped over to 43, our number.
My heart thumped, and I bounced o
ut of my seat, checking my dress to make sure I hadn’t gotten too badly wrinkled while we were sitting.
“How do I look?” I’d taken a dress from Brigit’s closet for the occasion. Wearing it now made me feel like she was there with me, even in such a small way. I smoothed my hands over the white lace, breathing in the sweet, cotton-candy smell of her that lingered on the fabric. It was short, more of a cocktail dress really, but I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
He stooped down and kissed me. “You’re more beautiful today than you were yesterday, which is unfair, because you were already the most beautiful woman alive.”
Grandmere and Grace fussed over me all the same, making sure my curls were all in place and my makeup hadn’t smudged in the heat.
Dom was the only pack member present, since we were waiting to have an official ceremony out at the mansion for the wolves. I wished Genie could have come, but it interfered with her exam schedule at university. She had promised to come for the pack ceremony, though, which my uncle Callum would be attending as well.
Though I hadn’t yet agreed to let Desmond turn me back into a wolf, the pack was being very accepting. I’d earned their trust by telling them the truth at Lucas’s, and they’d seen the sacrifices I was willing to make. In time I would likely let Des bite me, but for now I was happy just to be human.
I’d invited Nolan, who I’d been sharing weekly calls with since he’d headed to Pittsburgh, but he hadn’t been able to make it on such short notice. He seemed to be doing well, and of everyone had been the least surprised to find out I hadn’t died.
“Yer like a cat, Secret,” he’d said. “’nd your nine lives sure’s hell ain’t up yet.”
I hoped he was right.
Having a daytime wedding had meant a few guests were forced to decline out of necessity. Before making the final plan for the day I’d offered to have a night wedding so Holden and Sutherland could attend, but I’d known even then Holden would say no. We were still close, still speaking, but it was going to take time before things were ever back to how they once were, if we could get there at all. He’d killed me, and that wasn’t something he would be able to get over any time soon.
Having my father there to give me away would have been nice, but since the events with the Hands of Death, and Sutherland’s uneasiness around me in general, I wasn’t surprised when he bowed out. It was probably for the best, but it still hurt a little that he hadn’t wanted to come.
Shaking off the sad thoughts, I looped my arm around Desmond’s waist, and we walked towards the double doors leading into the civil union office. People in the lobby glanced up at our large party, but for the most part no one cared. It didn’t matter, though. I wanted to remember every single detail of the day, right down to the surly lady at the front desk named Bonnie, who I gave my best smile to as we walked by.
I wouldn’t take a damned thing for granted anymore.
Inside a bored-looking justice of the peace called us forward, and Desmond handed him the marriage license. Dominick and Mercedes waited nearby to be our witnesses when the time came.
Desmond glanced down and tilted my face up with his finger and thumb. He kissed me so sweetly I wanted to melt into his arms.
“You’re not supposed to kiss me before we say the vows,” I scolded.
“Did you want me to wait?”
I glanced at him, then at the people around us. We’d lost so much, sacrificed everything, all in the name of staying alive. It seemed we’d waded through a sea of sadness and turmoil, and now we were getting our reward. I’d literally died to get here.
I fought against the tears that threatened to fall, my heart full to bursting with joy. After everything I’d been through, this was it. This was what I’d fought so hard for. My city was standing; my loved ones were safe and happy. I’d done it.
I could finally stop worrying and start living my life.
So did I want to wait? Hell no.
I rose on my tiptoes and kissed him back. “I don’t want to wait one more second.”
About the Author
Sierra Dean is a reformed historian. She was born and raised in the Canadian prairies and is allowed annual exit visas in order to continue her quest of steadily conquering the world one city at a time. Making the best of the cold Canadian winters, Sierra indulges in her less global interests: drinking too much tea and writing urban fantasy.
Ever since she was a young girl she has loved the idea of the supernatural coexisting with the mundane. As an adult, however, the idea evolved from the notion of fairies in flower beds, to imagining that the rugged-looking guy at the garage might secretly be a werewolf. She has used her overactive imagination to create her own version of the world, where vampire, werewolves, fairies, gods and monsters all walk among us, and she’ll continue to travel as much as possible until she finds it for real.
Sierra can be reached all over the place, as she’s a little addicted to social networking. Find her on:
Facebook: www.facebook.com/sierradeanbooks
Website: www.sierradean.com
E-mail: [email protected]
Twitter: @sierradean
Look for these titles by Sierra Dean
Now Available:
Chasing Kings
Secret McQueen
Something Secret This Way Comes
The Secret Guide to Dating Monsters
A Bloody Good Secret
Secret Santa
Deep Dark Secret
Keeping Secret
Grave Secret
Secret Unleashed
Cold Hard Secret
Boys of Summer
Pitch Perfect
Perfect Catch
Thick-skinned vampire assassin meets smart-mouthed druid archer. Run, Cupid, run.
A Low Down Dirty Shane
© 2012 Sierra Dean
Shane Hewitt has been many things—failed husband, supernatural punching bag, and now a bitch to the vampire council of New York City. He thought killing rogue vampires was the hardest thing he’d ever do. Until a hot redhead smashes into him, shouts orders and announces she’s saving his life.
The sole female warrior in a family of druids, Siobhan O’Malley knows how to take care of herself and protect the big city from beasties who breach gateways from the fae realm. The last thing she needs is a misguided, leather-clad hottie’s help to get the job done.
Except maybe he’s exactly what she needs. Siobhan is expected to be a willing, virginal sacrifice on her twenty-fifth birthday. Sex with Shane to stay alive? If he can pull his foot out of his mouth long enough and stop driving her crazy, no problem.
Now if only the bad guys would leave them alone long enough to get the deed done.
Warning: Contains a wee red-headed archer with deadly aim; a leather-jacket-wearing vampire hunter with a habit for saying all the wrong things; and a life-saving ritual that will leave them both panting.
Enjoy the following excerpt for A Low Down Dirty Shane:
The next thing Shane knew he was throwing up on the sidewalk.
“Idiot,” Siobhan said, but she was laughing as she said it. “You’re lucky we didn’t end up trading tongues in the transport.”
“Hurrruffff,” Shane replied, seeing his SpaghettiOs dinner for the second time that night.
She gave him a gentle kick in the ribs. As gentle as a kick in the ribs could be, anyway.
“Get up, you great big pussy.”
Shane clambered to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and leveling her a hard glare. “A warning would have been nice.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. You were too busy sexually assaulting me for me to get around to an in-flight safety demonstration.”
“I’m starting to think your family had the right idea wanting to sacrifice you.”
They stared at each other. She broke first, showing a half smile in spite of her best efforts to remain stony. “Yeah, well. You fucked that up. In a manner of speaking.”
Shane
snorted. “Where have you taken us, you crazy woman?” He tried for nasty, but his tone made it sound endearing. He was failing on every level, and this chick was turning him into a big old softhearted mess. This was terrible.
“We’re near the gateway. It’s over there.” She pointed.
To a Bath & Body Works.
“Are you shitting me?” He stared at her, doubting her sanity. Certainly she was playing a trick on him. Some sort of druid hazing ritual. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”
“Sir, I shit you not.”
“I think I hate you.”
Siobhan smirked. “It’s not actually the store. The store is just an entry point.” She took his hand and dragged him towards the building.
“Am I going to throw up again?”
“Probably not.”
“You don’t sound too sure.”
“I’m not.”
“That’s comforting,” Shane said with a groan.
“Hey, if you want comfort, get a Snuggie. Sweetheart.” She opened the door, and before he could protest she yanked him through.
Instead of being bombarded with the smell of fruit-scented candles and hand sanitizers, Shane walked headlong into a peach-colored fog. His hand tightened on Siobhan’s reflexively, and she squeezed back, passing assurances without words.
The air was warm and glittery, the sparkly haze made him uneasy, but the heat comforted him and cast a drowsy spell over his senses, subduing the edge of worry. The atmosphere itself was lulling him into a false sense of security.
Shane blinked a few times, trying to get his bearings, but as soon as he thought he understood the weird pastel environment, it had vanished. What was on the other side wasn’t soothing at all and gave him no illusions of comfort and safety.
