Forty-One
Forty-One
HER
When I step out of the house, I see him instantly. He is standing in front of the archway of flowers down by the lake, wearing a dark-red tux. He’s too far for me to see his face, but even at this distance, I can still feel the intensity of his stare. He sees me, and he is waiting.
Down the bond between us comes a flood of love and desire and so much fucking happiness that I am his, that it rips all the air out of my lungs. So I tear my gaze away and try to throw up a block between us. I don’t want to feel his love for me. Not when only a few paces from him is the bitch he slept with only a week ago.
I force myself to look at her as she stands so beautifully behind my sister, holding a bouquet of white flowers. Force myself to feel the pain of her presence. As long as she’s living with us, I’m never going to forgive him. This last week, I’ve been avoiding her so I don’t kill her, and it’s been doing my head in.
I don’t know the other three women behind her, so my eyes sweep forward. Lou, my baby sister, is next, and at the front is Dayne, my maid of honor. He’s dressed in the same red dress the others are wearing. Same heels and make-up too. I wish he was the one walking me down the aisle, but my father is, unfortunately, still alive and he made it in time for the wedding.
“Micha,” the devil himself says as he appears behind me, and I hate how I didn’t notice his approach. Despite all the years he trained me, I never got anywhere near his level on any skillset outside of pure magical strength. Even then, he still managed to kick my ass in a magic-only fight. And my magic ate magic. I’d complain it wasn’t fair, but then he’d just beat me for being whiney.
“Stefaan,” I say, my words lacking all the warmth that comes so easily to my lips when I talk to Lou or Dayne.
“Micha.” I can hear my sister whining in my head. She hates it when we fight. To her, Father isn’t warm per say but nor is he the cold bastard I know him as. He isn’t the brutal trainer who left her with fractured bones, ruptured tendons, and internal bleeding as a way to make her tougher.
But Stefaan doesn’t discipline me for my lack of respect. He doesn’t really react to it at all. I am no longer his charge; he sold me, so my actions are no longer a reflection of him.
They are a reflection of Varius though, of how well he can control his woman, and thus a reflection on the entire Shadow Family. I am not dumb enough to let my pride get in the way of a solid alliance between our gangs. So I force my smile to come across as more genuine, for my tongue to have less bite.
“Thank you for coming at such short notice,” I say.
“One does not simply ignore an invite from the Boss of the Shadow Domain,” he says, offering out his arm.
Begrudgingly, I take it.
Of course that’s why he’s here. Not for me. Not because it’s his daughter’s fucking wedding. I hate how much that knowledge hurts, even though that shouldn’t be a shock at all. He died the same time Mom did sixteen years ago; his soul simply didn’t pass over into the Underworld. Instead, it grew cold and dark and empty. My two brothers were old enough to take care of themselves at that point, but Lou was a newborn and I was only eleven. That overnight rejection hurt, but I should’ve learned my lesson by now.
Irritated with myself, I start to stomp across the paving stones leading down to the lake, just wanting to get this over with, but Stefaan’s hand tightens on my arm. Not hard enough to bruise. Just enough to gain my attention. I glance at him, and he leans in close.
“Your mother was sold to me,” he says, and I turn to him fully now. “But she owned me more than I ever did her,” he says softly. “And when she died giving birth to your sister… I lost a large part of myself. Too much. So much I failed you and Lou…” He trails off for a moment. “She would’ve been so disappointed in me.” The words are a mere whisper. Then they strengthen again as he says, “But when I finally started to live again, you wanted to become an assassin, and I was terrified of learning to love you, only to feel that loss all over again. So I was never there for you, Micha. That was selfish of me. To think of only myself and my pain rather than my daughter’s.”
My throat closes, and dammit, I feel tears behind my eyes. I tried to get his attention all throughout my teenage years, having lost my mother when I was eleven, having seemingly lost my father too. Then when I hit sixteen, when I learned he would never love me even if I followed in his footsteps, I convinced myself I didn’t need him anymore.
But fuck, a part of me has always yearned for the father I used to know. The one who tried to teach me how to whistle with a blade of grass, who picked me up and carried me inside whenever I fell asleep in the car, who would sneak into a closet and eat apples with me because he made me believe they were a ‘naughty treat’ like candy.
My throat feeling tight, I snort. “Have you been going to therapy or something?”
He glances away briefly. “Yes.”
My jaw drops so far it bounces off my nonexistent boobs. Visiting a psychologist in our line of work is like visiting a cop. You don’t do it if you don’t want to end up dead. For him to reveal that to me? Does he really trust me that much despite how many times I’ve gone out of my way to piss him off?
“You remind me so much of your mother, you know,” he says, and all I can do is stare at him in shock for a few steps.
“Lou is the one who looks like her,” I finally manage to sputter.
He nods. “She might have got all her looks, but you got her fire, angel.”
I turn away from him and squeeze my eyes shut to stop the tears. The last time I heard someone call me ‘angel’ was when mom was alive.
“She would’ve been so proud of you,” he says.
My throat constricts until I can barely breathe. But we’re getting close to the crowd now. In another few seconds, the music will start playing and everyone will turn to look at me. So I take a deep breath and lock it all down. I don’t have the emotional capacity right now to deal with this. So I do what I always do. I crack a joke. “Oh, yes. She always had such dreams of me being a breedmare to a monster.”
He stops abruptly, and I’m jerked to a stop with him. We are still far enough away from the back of the row that they don’t notice we’re here, but Varius notices. I can feel his paranoia running down our bond, his instant desire to come get me and drag me the rest of the way if he has to.
I catch his gaze and shake my head. His eyes narrow ever so slightly, but he doesn’t move even though I can feel the vibration of his energy.
Stefaan’s voice is low, deadly. “Is he a monster to you?”
I snort. “You can’t act like you care after selling me to him.”
“I found out about your secret network and knew it was only a matter of time before some very powerful people came after you. I won’t be able to protect you from them, but he can.”
My eyes widen as I spin fully towards Stefaan, ripping my arm from his. Fear ruptures down my spine. Dayne and I specialized in killing kids as a cover. Any time a hit went out on one, we took it so we could pretend to assassinate them. In truth, we gave them a new face, a new identity, a new family that didn’t want them dead – most hits having been taken out by siblings who didn’t want to share their inheritance or step parents who didn’t want kids or widows who realized they would get everything if they weren’t alive. We were very fucking careful to cover our tracks. “What did you –”
“I covered your tracks better,” he cuts in quickly.
“Dayne…” I say, blood draining from my face. If Father can’t protect me, then he can’t –
“What the fuck have you said to my wife?” Varius asks softly as he comes up to us. His fingers wrap around my arm as he hauls me to him. My eyes widen at the fierce protectiveness rushing down our bond.
The sudden burst of laughter from the crowd takes me by surprise, and I glance behind Varius to see Sau in front of the crowd, playing the smooth hostess who distracts them from the shitstorm brewing in the corner. There’s a slight glimmer in the air around us too, meaning someone has cast an illusion over us, perhaps showing Varius is on a call – a Boss that never stops working.
I look back at him as I try to pull away, but he doesn’t let me go.
“I told her someone has taken a hit out on her,” my father lies smoothly.
“Who?” Varius asks softly, every part of him poised like a snake about to strike.
“William Florsley.” My blood instantly boils at the mere sound of his name. Ten years ago, the fucker paid for us to kill his son just because he suspected him of being gay. That way he could favor his ‘normal’ child without losing face. My five-figure fee back then was nothing compared to how much he threw at marketing to be “an ally” to the LGBTQ+ community so they would support him financially.
His public persona is so well played and he’s so rich that he’s too powerful to touch. He owns the majority share of the retailer Flormart, which has thousands of branches all across the US. They’re terrible places to work, with low pay, long hours, no benefits, and no overtime. But if you focus on hiring the desperate, they’re not going to complain about poor or illegal work conditions due to being too terrified of losing their job. After all, there’s always someone else to replace them because every capitalist economy needs a sum of people unemployed and desperate for just this reason. You can’t rely on firing the people who complain if there’s no one else to take their place.
He’s utter scum, and although I doubt he actually knows about me having not done the job he paid me to do, I am okay with him dying to protect my secret. Because that is what’s going to happen. I can feel Varius’ decision in the power of our bond.
“He won’t touch her,” he says, not giving my father any evidence to use against him. “Now come.” Releasing me, he strides back to the altar.
I breathe out slowly before looking at Father. “Does he actually know?”
“I don’t know. But some PIs have been spotted at his son’s college.”
My lips tighten. We didn’t have the means back then to have given the kid a new face. We hoped moving him to the other side of the country and to a small town would be enough.
“They might not be working for William,” I say.
“Perhaps not.”
“They could be watching anyone at his college.”
He nods. “There are thousands of students and faculty. Someone is probably just cheating on their spouse.”
Most likely. But any assassin who goes off mere statistics ends up dead. My heart hammering, my eyes find Dayne. He’s looking at me in concern. “If you want to make things up to me,” I say, my voice cracking, “do whatever it takes to protect Dayne.”
Before Father can say anything, a guitar starts to play, and the chatter of the crowd dies down. Chairs squeak and fabric rustles as everyone turns to face us. As Leno starts to sing a cover of “You Are the Reason” by Calum Scott, I walk slowly down the aisle on my father’s arm, surprised at how good the man can sing.
He’s standing beside all of his brothers, all of whom are dressed in crimson suits and black shirts. Rudy is first in line as his best man; Leno is last with Krypto beside him, a fancy red bow tie around his neck. But Talon’s absence is heavy in the air, seen in the tight smiles and pain hidden inside a few of their eyes.
I glance at the reaper, who looks cold and empty, hoping he made Talon suffer. Only, Khalid’s back too early to have done as good of a job as I would’ve. I would’ve spent days, weeks perhaps, skinning him alive. Taking his magic and making him feel fucking helpless to fight back. Making him feel weak. Broken. Like he’ll never be whole again.
Reminded of all that I’ve lost, my eyes harden on Varius.
He’s watching me, his face that of indifference, perhaps even boredom. But the feelings flowing down our bond are those of guilt and pain but also happiness and joy and a fierce determination to make things right between us.
As the lyrics of the song hit me, I wonder if he chose it or if it’s just coincidence that it matches us so well.
My throat tightens as Father hands me off to him.
His hand wraps around mine. His thumb feathers across my skin. And for a moment, all our problems disappear.
I love you, little monster.
Let me prove that to you for the rest of our lives.
He turns on silent promises and leads me up to the altar. My legs are weak beneath my dress, but I somehow manage not to trip over my feet.
The next twenty minutes feel surreal. Our bond has been weakening over the past week as we haven’t exchanged any more blood, but today it has been so strong. So fucking clear that what this moment means to him, what I mean to him is more than he can find words to say.
Everything on the surface might seem cut and dry. No personalized vows. No smiles. Nothing to show a glimmer of what he’s feeling inside. I look at him, then I look past him, and it hits me how alone he is. How not even Rudy, his best man, or Khalid, the one he trusts the most, knows how happy he is with me.
I squeeze his hand. He doesn’t squeeze it back. Not here. Not when there are all these witnesses, these allies in wolf clothing that would not hesitate to tear him apart if given the smallest opportunity. But I feel the flare of emotions inside of him, triggered by something so simple as a squeeze of my fingers.
And fuck, do I feel loved.
Almost like I did before he ruined us, but there is still that weight in my chest, that tightness I can’t push past.
He raped me.
He tortured me and took my magic.
He nearly killed our child.
And he fucked one of my bridesmaids a week before our wedding.
Fuck him, I want to say.
And yet…
I can see how much he’s trying to fix what he’s broken.
“Do you, Varius Sin Shadow,” the celebrant eventually says, “take Micha Black to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
“I do.”
“And do you, Micha Black, take Varius Sin Shadow to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
I start to say the words required of me, but the celebrant doesn’t stop.
“To live together in matrimony, to respect him, serve him, honor and obey him, in both sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, in anger and in happiness, to have and to hold, from this day forward, til death do you part?”
My eyes narrow.
Maddox half-coughs, half-laughs into a closed fist as I grit out, “I do.”
Though ‘until death do us part’ might be coming really fucking soon.
Rudy steps forward, his lips curled in as he tries to keep his face straight. My narrowed eyes turn to him, a trickle of paranoia hitting me as Varius stiffens. What the fuck is about to happen now?
But then I notice it. There isn’t a ring on the pillow he’s holding. It’s a fucking collar. Black and studded like for a dog.
“Where are the rings?” Varius growls low so only the three of us can hear. But Rudy just grins wide, knowing his brother won’t make a scene in front of this many witnesses. I narrow my eyes at the red-headed devil.
“I used to like you,” I mutter.
His teeth flash white as he pulls another collar out from inside his red jacket. This one is pale pink and has a bow on the front. For a moment, Varius and I just stare at it. Then understanding dawns. One of us is going to have to wear it. I snap my arm forward, grabbing it right before Varius does.
“Ha!” I grin wide. Rudy laughs silently as the celebrant clears his throat.
Varius slowly picks up the black collar, his lips tight. But it isn’t annoyance that’s coming down our bond despite what his face says. It’s joy at the sight of my happiness.
When he turns to me, my smile fades, washed under the hard beating of my heart. His intense gaze on mine, he undoes the buckle. A shiver runs down my spine. The man in front of us says something, but I don’t hear it. I don’t hear anything other than the blood rushing through my skull.
I stand dead still as Varius reaches forward and wraps the collar me. The leather is hard against my skin. It pulls flush as he buckles it. I swallow and feel the press of it.
A small breath leaves me.
Lifting my free hand, I touch the leather collar; the way he put it on didn’t feel like the joke it started out as. It feels more permanent, more meaningful than any ring.
“You’re mine, Micha.”
Property of Varius fucking Shadow.
In front of all these people, you are mine.
When the celebrant clears his throat, I’m jerked back to the fact that I’m surrounded by people who are waiting on me. I blink rapidly with a small shake of my head as I drop my gaze to the collar in my hands. My hands shake slightly as I undo it. I breathe out, then reach up to place it around Varius’ neck.
The air feels poised and pregnant as I struggle to do the clasp. Reaching up behind him, he closes his fingers around mine, steadying them. He stares into my eyes, and I am reminded of the night he took me to sing karaoke. The silent support he gave me when I almost got cold feet. I wet my lips, then try again when he drops his hand.
It takes a bit of feeling, but I finally manage to poke the prong through the right hole. I thread the end tip through the rest of the buckle until it lies flat.
His gaze doesn’t leave mine.
The world starts to fade again...
“...I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”