Chapter Forty-Nine
White Ravens
Scar
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Scar paced.
“Will you calm down, damn,” Ex grumbled.
Scar ignored him.
“I’m gonna’ fuck this up. I know it. He’s too good for me. He’s eventually gonna’ end up hating me and—”
Meridian slapped him across the left cheek so hard it made white light flash in front of him.
“Ow, fuck!” Scar held his jaw, glaring. “What the hell, Meridian?”
“All your whining is getting on my nerves. Now shut the fuck up.”
Meridian grabbed him by the back of his neck and started fixing the collar he’d been yanking at.
“Ugh, you’re the worst best man ever.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that,” Meridian said, “But now’s not the time to compliment me. Focus on Gage.”
“He’s probably half way across the country right now.”
“He is if he’s got some self-preservation, Gandalf,” Ex chuckled.
“Xavier, I swear to god,” he snarled. “Say one more fuckin word.”
“Hey,” Meridian gripped his chin and turned him to face him. “You two were forged in the goddamn fire together. He’s your ‘is.’ So stop talking stupid.”
Scar froze.
Meridian’s voice was all rasp and ferocity.
“Gage is one of the greatest men I’ve ever met.
His decency and faith in goodness brings something to this brotherhood that none of us knew we needed…
until he came.” Meridian held his stare without blinking.
“And you’re right. He’s too good. But, he’s one hundred in love with you. None of us know why, he just is.”
Scar nodded, still rubbing his stinging cheek.
Meridian’s darkness— the emotionless killer— was the same as always, unable to be anything else. He held no warmth, but the blunt truth of his words calmed him.
“Okay,” he muttered, rotating and checking his jaw for injury. “You didn’t have to hit me that hard.”
“It worked, didn’t it?”
Meridian stood tall beside him, wearing black-on-black everything. His designer suit was sleek, clean lines, no tie, with a single red spider lily pinned to his lapel, representing the necessary deaths he brought to the world.
Ex stood a few feet to his right—also in all black but opting for a black rose pinned over his right pec, honoring his evil lover—looking amused at their exchange.
Grace was in all black as well, waiting behind him, still as stone, his broad shoulders built for the suit jacket he wore, with a chocolate orchid in his lapel. Valor’s mint-green hellebore flower in his lapel was the same color as his partner’s eyes.
Scar took a final look around the room.
It appeared everything he’d asked for had been executed, yet he couldn’t stop worrying Gage wouldn’t like it.
It was late spring, so he’d chosen to have the ceremony on the atrium’s garden deck. It was a half-enclosed courtyard built on the back side of the headquarters—a place Gage often used to meditate.
Gage’s assistant, Rose, said his favorite time to be out there was at twilight. He’d said the air was cooler, and the scents from the garden were stronger, making it smell more alive.
The wide deck had mahogany floors and a sandstone path cutting through a vertical garden wall overflowing with flowers, herbs, and foliage.
Water trickled through the entire yard from the waterfall fountain, while lanterns lit with citrus and lavender oils, lined the edges.
It was a wonderland of textures and fragrance, for a man who navigated his environment with his other senses.
Scar checked his watch. It was four minutes after seven.
“He should be here by now,” Scar said. “What’s happening? Where is he?”
“Maybe he hit traffic,” Ex grinned behind his fist. “The west end elevators can get backed up around this time.”
Scar glared. Motherfucker.
Even Grace broke and released a startled laugh before he quickly cut it off.
Scar didn’t know how or when his and Ex’s relationship turned into big brother tormenting little brother, but it had. Screwing with him seemed to be the highlight of Ex’s existence.
He had a loaded arsenal of nicknames for Scar’s white hair, from Targaryen, to The Witcher.
He couldn’t resist popping him in the back of the head when he walked by.
Sometimes he’d just flat-out block his path.
He’d grab him from behind when he was talking to someone, put him in a sleeper hold, and leave him lying there.
Ex’s favorite, however, was poking him in the ribs with a blade during debriefings, making him yell out in front of everyone and interrupt Jo.
The most annoying one? Stealing his plate of food and running off with it.
He could go on with examples all night because it never stopped.
“Ex, you can fuck. All. The. Way. Off.”
“Don’t make me slap your ass again,” Meridian said casually. “He’s coming. Just shut up, stand here, and wait.”
A throat cleared to his left. “Let’s try to stay civil, gentlemen.”
“Sorry, Rev,” Ex said, still laughing.
Meridian had gotten Reverend Miller from Gage’s church to agree to officiate the ceremony.
Scar didn’t want to know how he’d convinced a man of God to marry two men who didn’t exist, but Meridian wasn’t told no, by anyone, ever.
Scar glanced around again. “Do you think he’ll like the room?”
“Yes,” Meridian sighed.
“Is it too over the top?”
“Yes,” he sighed louder.
“Are the smells too strong?”
“Yes.”
Scar kept going, despite Meridian’s low growl.
“Do you think there’s too many lanterns?”
“Yes.”
“Is my neck still splotchy?”
“Yes.”
“Dammit.”
Meridian rolled his eyes.
“How’s my breath?” Scar opened his mouth wide and exhaled a long haaah in Meridian’s face.
Meridian closed his eyes as if he were hanging on by a thread, teeth clenched. “Do that shit again, and I’ll chop you in your fuckin’ throat. And yes, your breath is fine.”
Scar ignored the way everyone was staring at them. They should be used to his and the Blacks’ antics by now.
The guest list had started relatively short, but as the days went on, more and more people stopped him and begged him to be able to come.
Now three-fourths of the headquarters personnel were there, filling the edges of the courtyard and waiting for him and Gage to apparently make Raven history.
Elias and his crew from wardrobe rushed to their seats, smiling like idiots—meaning Gage was about to enter.
Another two minutes passed.
Just when he thought he couldn’t stand still another second, Gage turned the corner, lightly holding the back of Roz’s elbow.
Mirage and Zorion flanked him, dressed like their partners, moving with the same disciplined composure that made them so formidable.
Scar’s knees nearly buckled.
A wave of startled breaths, low murmurs, and gasps rippled through the courtyard.
If it wasn’t for Meridian’s strong palm on his shoulder, he might’ve passed out.
Gage was hooded, draped in a flowing silky jacket that glided with his every step. His cane was folded and gripped in his right hand, not an accessory or a crutch, just a part of him.
The lights fell on him perfectly, drawing attention to the 24-karat cross suspended from the diamond tennis chain around his neck.
A light wind cut through the atrium and lifted the back of his jacket, making him look like…like…exactly what he was.
A saint.
Halfway down the stone path, he released Roz’s arm and walked on his own with the confidence of a man who knew his own power.
Gage followed the curves to the end, stopping right in front of him with unerring precision, sensing exactly where he was supposed to stand.
Gage pulled back his hood slowly and tipped his face up toward him.
“You smell amazing,” he whispered. “I can pick you out of a room of a hundred men every time.”
Scar finally exhaled. “Damn. You look…you’re so…you…”
Gage smiled, lighting up Scar’s world. “I’m what?”
Scar shook his head. He had no words. He leaned into Gage’s ear and whispered, rough and honest.
“You just are.”