For You, I Will

by Georgia Lyn Hunter

  Blaéz narrowed his eyes at the warrior. If Týr brought out that damn sonnet again, he would toss him outside into the snow.

  “It’s time for my awesome speech…and it would have been one. But, alas, under threat of an agonizing death, and I happen to like my head where it is, it’ll be a toast instead. Blaéz, Darci”—those amused dark eyes met Blaéz’s and then shifted to his mate—“I wish you both every happiness in this lifetime, and every other.” He raised his champagne glass. “To the bridal couple!”

  An eruption of applause exploded in the room. Chairs dragged on the marble floor, and cheers took over as everyone stood, raising their glasses.

  Damn Norse. Blaéz shook his head.

  As they all took their seats again, Darci asked softly, “Did you enjoy the wedding?”

  She rubbed her cheek against his arm, her hand lightly stroking his inner thigh. And like a match to tinder, his groin hardened. Damn. He shifted in his seat and deadpanned. “I’m still breathing, and your brother’s smiling. I’d call it a success.”

  She laughed. “I think Dec’s happy…” She paused, her expression contemplative as she watched her brother talking to Reynner. “We were married by a priest, which will soothe his old-school soul. And he’s seen where I live.” Her sparkling gaze came back to him. “More, he realizes how happy you make me.”

  “That is good to know. Now, I won’t need your protection when he’s around,” he teased. Curling a silky lock of her hair that had escaped her intricately styled mane around his finger, he tugged her closer and kissed her. “The women appear to want your attention. I’m going to get a drink.”

  Actually, he just needed a moment to calm his unruly body. He hadn’t made love to her in far, far too long. Strange, how they’d both conceded to the bet and still had to wait until after the wedding because of other obstructions. No matter, he’d followed the tradition parts just to experience them. He’d emerged mostly unscathed…except for one thing. And that he planned to rectify very soon.

  Blaéz strolled past the lavender and white, three-tiered cake they’d cut earlier. The three-layer confectionary appeared as if it had taken a dive into a flower garden with the waterfall of blooms spilling from the top.

  Stranger still, he’d actually enjoyed it, even though he wasn’t one for sweets.

  As he neared the bar, though Týr stared outside at the snow lightly floating to the ground, something appeared off with him. Blaéz frowned. Týr had been his typical self with mocking banter during dinner. And Kira had remained silent as if she’d bolted down her usual irritation with the warrior for a peaceful evening.

  However, the wound on Týr’s jaw caught his attention again. The contusion should have healed within minutes, but it appeared to be the same mottled-red shade it was last night.

  “Want to talk about the injury?” he asked quietly.

  Týr glanced at him, the cocky grin reappearing. “Perks of the job, man.” He set his glass down next to an open can of Red Bull. “What’s your venom, Celt?”

  Blaéz let it go for now. “Whiskey.”

  Aethan and Dagan joined him. Michael had left after the ceremony, and so had Nik. He’d taken the old priest back. Blaéz doubted he’d return.

  He took the squat crystal Týr handed him and sipped, the smoky liquor burning a fiery path down his throat.

  “Interesting custom, weddings,” Aethan remarked, taking a water bottle from the small fridge there. Dagan accepted his red wine from Týr.

  “You two plan to follow?” Blaéz asked them. “Your mates were human once. I doubt their sentiments have changed even if they are immortal now.”

  “Shae just wants a quieter life,” Dagan said, his yellow eyes softening as they settled on his mate. “And I’m all for it after the hell we went through recently.”

  Blaéz could understand that.

  “I don’t really know.” Aethan frowned and drank some of his water, watching his mate chat excitedly to Darci. “Echo doesn’t appear to want these things…”

  “You do realize if you hadn’t decided on a wedding, Darci wouldn’t have been exposed to your kin?” Týr asked.

  Blaéz frowned. “Indeed. But it would have happened at another time, another place. It was inevitable, considering Finnén’s animosity toward me. I’m just glad it’s finally over. I wish I could have avoided her getting caught in the middle and being hurt, but I would have still given her this.” He glanced at Darci surrounded by her friends, and his heart bumped hard in his chest. “Hell, I’d give her the fucking stars if it were at all possible just to see her smile…”

  Probably sensing his stare, Darci glanced his way, and the smile he loved curved her mouth. Unable to resist the pull of his own little sun, he set his drink down and made his way to her.

  As if on cue, music filled the room, and the lights dimmed.

  Blaéz glanced back to where the pool table had been, where Daniel now operated the music system. The lad gave him the thumbs-up sign as the soft strains of a love song filled the room, one Blaéz had heard Darci play often and had chosen for tonight because it was so damn appropriate.

  He held out his hand. Her eyes widened in surprise. No, he hadn’t told her this bit.

  When she put her hand in his, he drew her to the middle of the makeshift dance floor and into his arms.

  As they moved to the music, she whispered, “You don’t dance.”

  Her words, so reminiscent of a time of heartache and pain, it took him a moment to speak past the emotions crowding him. “Now I do, just for you.”

  No, he never danced…only once, several months ago. A time filled with sorrow when he’d thought he would lose her, so yes indeed, he was going to create new memories starting with this dance.

  Her lips trembled, her eyes misted.

  “You aren’t supposed to cry,” he said softly.

  “I’m not. I-I thought I couldn’t be happier, and you’ve proven me wrong.”

  Blaéz pressed his lips to her brow. “It’s my aim in life.”

  He tightened his arms around her, aware that the others had joined them on the dance floor. But he couldn’t look away from his mate’s radiant face. Her scent, her body flush against his almost undid him.

  As the song drew to an end, Grace, who danced with her husband, spun to them, a wide smile on her face. “Darci, don’t forget the bouquet toss!”

  The lights came on. Echo sprinted over, hitching her long gown up with one hand and revealing her heels. Grinning, she handed Darci the cascading profusion of flowers she’d carried during the ceremony. The floor cleared.

  “You girls ready?” Darci asked, smiling as she walked to back to the center.

  “Certainly,” Lila, the Oracle who usually tended to the warriors when badly wounded—and Kira’s grandmother—called out, rising to her feet. She patted her braided salt and pepper hair, her dark eyes twinkling in her cocoa-hued face as she made her way to the front.

  The women looked at each other, then hurried over and joined the Oracle.

  The warriors frowned.

  Darci turned away and tossed the bouquet over her shoulder.

  The flowers flew across the dance floor. A single cream rosebud slipped free, hitting Elytani in the chest. The rest of the bouquet smacked Kira in the face. With a shriek, she darted behind the others and eyed the fallen flowers as if a nest of snakes had come after her.

  Blaéz slid his hands into his pants’ pockets, trying not to smile. Darci had explained all the traditions to him. Most were just for fun, she’d said. But this was entertaining to watch.

  Frowning, Echo picked up the bouquet. “Ki,” she whispered. “This is yours—you can’t refuse it.”

  “Nuh-uh.” Kira shook her head. “No way. You keep them. I like my life uncluttered.”

  Laughter rippled through the room.

  “Blaéz,” Grace said, mischief gleaming in her blue eyes. “It’s your turn. The garter. You know what to do.”

  He gave a slight incline of his he
ad and sauntered to his mate then dropped to one knee in front of her and slid his hands up her thighs. Her face gone a delectable red, Darci grasped his shoulders as he felt for the wisp of lace in the entirely wrong place—deliberately. Her eyes widened, and she bit her lip.

  Of course, he’d have rather done it with his mouth, drawing off the bit of lace, but her fitted dress didn’t allow him that pleasure. Blaéz eased her garter down, caressing her stocking-clad skin with his fingertips, longing for the moment when he didn’t have people around, or clothes as a barrier between them.

  You think anyone will mind if I steal you off now? he telepathed her as he lifted her foot and slid the garter off.

  The girls. They’ll definitely be upset if you don’t complete the ritual and throw the garter. He heard the smile in her voice. Besides, I have to say goodbye to my family.

  Pity. His lips twitched. Rising to his feet with the wispy bit of lace, he whirled the thing on his finger like a cowboy with a lariat before letting it fly across to the warriors who parked near the bar. The garter landed in Týr’s glass of Red Bull.

  And he hadn’t even been aiming for him.

  “Great! Thanks, Celt.” Cautiously, Týr lifted the drenched lace out with two fingers, eyeing it suspiciously as if it might go off any second and eviscerate him.

  Blaéz smirked. Obviously, he had no clue what it meant. But it was time to stop goading the warrior. Destiny may have shown a path, but if it weren’t taken, then nothing would come to pass.

  He put his hands on Darci’s waist and lowered his mouth to her ear. “Say your goodbyes, a leannan.”

  A smile still on her lips, she glanced at him, and her eyes darkened with the same desire that garroted him. “Okay.”

  As she made her way to her family and friends, he turned to the warriors. “I’ll see you in two weeks. You need me…yeah, don’t call.”

  Snorts and laughter followed Blaéz as he made his way to the French doors. He inhaled deeply, trying to calm his tense body as he waited.

  Soft, quick, but familiar footsteps reached his ears. Darci hurried to him, the trailing hemline clutched in her hand. With a nod at his Guardian brothers, he opened the door and ushered her outside, stopping just past the protection shields Michael had erected for the night—a blast of frigid air enveloped them.

  “Christ on a crutch!” Darci gasped, her teeth clattering. “It’s f-freezing!”

  Damn. Blaéz hastily shrugged off his tux jacket and draped it over her shoulders. He hadn’t factored in that her dress wouldn’t be much of a buffer against the cold. “We’ll be out of here in a moment.”

  She nodded, grasping the edges of his coat closed. A hiss resonated. Blaéz stilled. His heightened senses instantly scanning for the odd noise. He looked up into the blackened skies. What the—?

  Amidst the soft, drifting snowflakes, thousands of velvety-red calyxes sailed down toward them.

  “What is that?” Darci asked seconds later, her brow creasing. Her attention fixed on the anomaly. Then she moved forward and grabbed one from midair. “They’re petals—Blaéz, look.” She held it out to him, her eyes still glued to the scarlet shower.

  The sweet fragrance of roses mixed with the cold bite of ice drifted to them. Then the fallen petals squiggled on the snowy ground. Words formed.

  Congratulations. May you both always have a happy union.

  I’m so glad we’re friends again.

  “Nora…” she whispered.

  “I guess I have to thank her for all she’s done,” Blaéz said quietly. “Come to think of it, she did keep Maloch from finding you.” He drew her close, and she leaned against him. At her warm back pressed against his front, his cock stirred. He inhaled sharply.

  Darci remained quiet for a moment, then sighed. “Yes, she did. Though I didn’t appreciate it at the time. Is this why you brought me outside? For her gift?”

  “No. I didn’t know she’d do this.” Blaéz glanced around the snow-covered grounds. His body strung too taut with need. The petal-message in front of them swirled and disappeared. “We’re leaving for our honeymoon.”

  She spun to him on her impossibly high heels, and he grabbed her before she misbalanced. “Honeymoon?”

  “Yes. Close your eyes, a leannan.”

  After an inquisitive search of his face—that made him want to smile—as if she could find out where he planned to take her displayed there, she did as he requested. With his mind, he gathered the shifting mystical energies of the realm around him and opened a portal, swept Darci into his arms and stepped through the gateway onto the freezing stoop of another building.

  Usually, Darci would have tried to listen for sounds to figure out where she was, but right now? All she could think of was getting her man naked.

  A soft swish sounded, and a waft of icy air drifted over her, pulling her mind back and easing the edge off her desire. She shivered and burrowed deeper into his arms. “Are we there yet?”

  “In a sec.” A door opened then closed. Beautiful warmth flowed over her, and she shuddered again as he lowered her to her feet. “Did you peek?”

  “Of course, not!” She huffed out a laugh, her eyes still shut. “You’d probably make me pay in some form of sexual punishment.”

  “Pity.”

  At his teasing tone, Darci snorted and opened her eyes. Her gaze widened and swept past him. She took in the two-story, wooden chalet with its open-plan kitchen and living room where a fire spluttered in the stone hearth. At the far side of the room, a narrow staircase led to the upper level. Beneath it, an arched entrance preceded into a corridor and probably more rooms. “Wow… It’s beautiful. Where are we?”

  “Our cabin in the Highlands.”

  “Hardly a cabin. This is enormous.” She pivoted to him and grinned. “I love it! I’ve never been to Scotland—heck, I’ve never even left New York.”

  “It’s good you like it...” Blaéz slowly undid his tie and tossed it onto a small table near the couch. “Because I’m not letting you out of bed. If you leave, I’ll just make love to you wherever I find you.”

  At his intense stare, and despite his sensual threat, her heart tripped—her love expanding more than she believed possible for this quiet but absolutely lethal warrior.

  His dark brow arched as if daring her to counter him.

  Biting back a smile, Darci pulled off his tux jacket and dropped it onto the couch. Closing the small distance between them, she slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the mouth. “Does it look like I’m protesting, hmm?”

  “No, you merely like to torment me.”

  True. But she knew better than to say that. She unfastened several buttons on his black shirt, slid the material apart, and glided her palms over his hard, muscular chest, loving the feel of him. She pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his sternum, then trailed her lips to his flat male nipple. She licked the tiny nub.

  A low growl escaped him. His eyes gone an inky-blue, he slowly rolled up his sleeves and walked around her. He deftly removed her veil and dropped it on the armchair. Then utter silence followed.

  Frowning, she cut him a quick look over her shoulder and found him staring blankly at her back. He’d folded his one arm over his chest while his right hand rubbed his sensual lips as if trying to figure out what to do.

  Darci hid her smile and waited, aware that he faced an army of almost thirty or so tiny buttons that marched down her back bodice to her hips.

  Warm hands settled on her nape, and he unfastened the first satin-covered closure. “Did they leave any buttons for the next gown?” he asked drily.

  “I think they’re all on my dress. Just to torture you.”

  “Indeed.”

  As he undid the next fastening, he pressed his lips to her exposed flesh. Her breath hitched, her smile vanishing. Goosebumps spread over her skin, and her blood went into a slow burn. Another button loosened, followed by another sensual kiss, this time with a little flick of his tongue, and desire swept through her. Oh, God.
Darci shivered, praying she survived his sensual onslaught.

  Finally, he worked free the last button with a slow, heated, stomach-churning kiss low on her spine. His palms glided up her back in a lingering caress before he strolled to her front, appearing cool and calm while she was about to dissolve into a puddle of goo at his feet.

  A slight smirk at the corner of his mouth, Blaéz eased the dress off her shoulders. In a rustle of satin, her gown flowed to pool around her feet. He went motionless, his teasing expression vanishing.

  A little anxious, Darci stood there in her heels, clad only in her ivory silk panties and a matching garter belt that held up her sheer, thigh-high stockings.

  His dark gaze swept down her body then slowly tracked up again to linger on bare breasts. Her nipples pebbled—at his intense stare or the chill coasting over her skin—she had no idea. She only knew she wanted him to touch her.

  “You’re staring,” she whispered.

  “Indeed…” A nerve pulsed in his jaw. He held out his hand and helped her over the frothy pile of ivory satin. “You’re a godsdamn siren—a temptress sent to torment me. It would be a bloody sacrilege not to look my fill.”

  Darci blinked. She didn’t really like garters, but for this moment alone, seeing her man thrown for a loop—heck, it was so worth it. She ran her palms down her hips and fingered one satin strap. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “Like it?” He hauled her to him and tipped her over his arm.

  Her breath escaped in a rush. “Blaéz!” she squealed, clutching his biceps.

  “I’m so fucking desperate to be inside you, but with you looking like this, it’s only right that a temptress should be worshipped…and then devoured.”

  He bent his body over hers and dragged open-mouthed kisses over the swell of her breast, followed by punishing little nips before he licked away the sting. His free hand cupped her other breast and he squeezed, his thumb lightly tracing her areola.

  A wave of sheer need swept through her as he continued his torture with seductive sucks and tempting nibbles on every inch of her skin, except where she wanted him most. Her nipples ached, straining for his touch. A moan of frustration escaped her.