by Keary Taylor
So I take my opportunity.
I smear the cake all over his lips, his jaw.
He takes half a step back, his face utterly shocked, in absolute disbelief that I just did that.
The small crowd around us breaks out into an instant roar, none of them able to believe I just did that either.
I smile, laugh, as I look at Lexington, still frozen there, his expression in shock, a smile slowly growing on his face. I step forward, lacing my fingers behind his neck, and lick my tongue from the edge of his jaw, up his cheek.
A very animalistic sound rises up from his chest and he buries his face in my neck, smearing the cake all over me. I squeal, throwing my head back, but he holds me tight to him, in return licking the cake he smeared over me.
“You all need to come see this.”
A grave voice cuts through the party, and Aleah’s tone grips us all with instant dread.
I look over to see her standing next to the door, wearing her usual black clothes, her expression grim.
She didn’t come to the wedding. Everyone justified it that she had to stay on watch, but really I knew it was because she was still mad at me.
I look up at Lexington, and all the happiness in me sinks.
We all move at once. Everyone darts forward, heading down the stairs, and we follow Aleah to my bedroom. She grabs the remote from my nightstand and clicks the TV on. She changes the channel until she comes to a news station.
The camera points to a man lying in a hospital bed. He’s got a tube of blood running into his arm, the transfusion obvious. And there, on the side of his neck, are two small puncture marks.
“The attack happened around seven PM, just outside the West End Museum,” a reporters voice cuts through the shot. “The attacker is said to be a Caucasian male, slim build and average height, with red hair.”
“Charles,” half of the crowd in my bedroom says in a breath. And the anger and violence is thick enough in the air to choke me.
“That’s not all,” Aleah says gravely, and when I look over at her, there’s a heavy dose of shame in her eyes.
The camera changes and suddenly there’s a reporter woman, standing outside the hospital, and with her, is Jonathan Harper.
“These attacks have been happening all over the city for years,” he says to the woman. “They’ve been getting written off as animal attacks, but come on, we’re in the middle of Boston. That man was attacked in downtown where nothing but pigeons have lived in a couple of centuries. People need to open their eyes. You all know what this was. And it’s time we do something about them.”
The frame suddenly cuts out, going to the anchors in the studio.
“Certainly quite the disturbing story,” the man says.
“Is there something running around the city of Boston, on two legs, putting our citizens in danger?” the woman says dramatically, but her tone makes it obvious she doesn’t take this story very seriously. “We’ll find out with tomorrow’s segment and continued interview with Mr. Harper.”
They move on to a story about the endangered bee population.
Everyone is still for half a beat.
I turn to face Aleah.
“You said you killed Jonathan Harper.” My voice is very cold and low.
She won’t quite look up at me. She fixes her eyes on the ground. “We thought we did. He said his name was Jonathan. He knew things.”
In a flash, Cyrus collides with Aleah, his hand around her throat, pinning her against a wall. “Your lack of investigation has put our entire race on the nightly news,” he hisses into her face. His eyes are brilliant red, his fangs extended. “You will remember that I have entrusted you to do a job. You begged me for it, and then you have failed within the first few weeks of establishment.”
His fingers squeeze, digging into the flesh of her throat. She claws at his hands, but she is no match for his strength. Her feet lift off the ground. A stream of blood suddenly slides down from one of his finger placements.
“It is as much my fault as hers,” Duncan says, stepping forward, his eyes wide in horror as he watches his cousin struggle to breathe. “We thought that was him. Had reason to believe it was. But we’d only heard of Jonathan before, none of us had ever seen him.”
None of them, except me and Kai. And neither of us was in town when they captured the self-sacrificing imposter.
“Who is this Jonathan Harper and why is he trying to get our kind exposed?” Cyrus growls. He gives Aleah’s throat one more squeeze, loosing one more trail of blood, before releasing her, where she crumples to the floor, holding a hand to her damaged throat.
I freeze.
This is the part that could get me killed.
This is what we all agreed we needed to keep under the rug.
What we needed to keep hidden from Cyrus.
“He’s some human who found out about vampires, and has been on a quest to destroy us.” It’s Robert who speaks up, the one I never would have expected to lie for me.
“We don’t know much about him,” Eva pipes up. “Just that he’s been rallying others to try and take us out.”
Partial truth. Partial lies.
I force my heart to calm a bit, hope and pray that I’m not sweating too bad.
“There hasn’t been anything too serious before tonight,” Duncan says from where he is crouched at Aleah’s side. “We did everything we could. We thought we had taken care of the problem.”
Cyrus breathes hard. His eyes glow, brilliant and angry. His hands are curled into fists. “I want this man found. I want him brought in alive, to me.”
He turns, stalking out of the room. We all stand frozen, silent. So we all overhear as he begins talking into a phone as he heads for the door, speaking quickly in German. I assume to Killian.
No one says a word, not for a whole two minutes after we hear Cyrus close my front door and the rest of the house fall silent.
“I hope that hotel was refundable,” Duncan says, scowling back at me as he takes his suit jacket off and presses it to Aleah’s throat to help with the bleeding, which is already beginning to heal. “Cause you’re not going anywhere tonight. I need you to tell me everything you know about Jonathan. And someone get Kai on the phone.”
I should be on my honeymoon, a hundred miles away from here, enjoying the feel of my husband’s body against mine.
Instead, I’m here in my house, being interrogated.
Aleah, Danny, Christian, Valentina, Robert, and Eva are out scouring the city, rather aggressively, searching for Jonathan and Charles. And I sit at my house, with the rest of the members of the House of Martials, Ian, and Alivia, with Kai on speakerphone.
It was Michael who finally got Kai to answer a call.
“Tell me again how he worded it,” Duncan says.
“He called it a revolution,” I say. I changed out of my wedding dress an hour ago, and now I sit in a pair of comfortable pajamas, cross-legged on my bed. Lexington sits behind me, rubbing my shoulders, trying frantically to keep me calm when he knows how this is eating me up. “He said the only way to end the vicious cycle of the Bitten and all the drama was to take out all the vampires. He talked to this crowd of people and called it a demonstration.”
“He didn’t know a lot of details,” Kai says through the phone. “He doesn’t know about Cyrus, or Court. He only has a loose understanding of the Houses and what their function is.”
“And how many of the other cured do you think he’s talked to?” Duncan asks as he rubs his thumb and index fingers over his eyes.
“At least fifteen,” Kai says. “I’ve reached out to all of them, two told me they wanted nothing to do with Jonathan’s crazy scheme, but I couldn’t get the rest to answer. My guess is some of them have dropped off the face of the planet like they were supposed to, and some might have joined his mission.”
Ian swears under his breath and shakes his head.
Something that feels like shame creeps up in my chest.
They’re
doing this because I was stubborn enough to help them.
Lexington gives my shoulders a little squeeze, one that very clearly says, this isn’t your fault.
I lift my chin. It’s not. I did a good thing, saved lives. This is on them, this is their choice.
“What do you know about Jonathan?” Alivia says, leaning in toward the phone. I can see the wheels spinning behind her eyes, going into full Royal mode.
“Not a lot,” Kai and I actually say at the same time.
“He’s the serious, brooding type,” Kai says. “He lost a bunch of family, he killed his wife and one of his kids when he turned. There was some other kind of drama after he was cured, but I don’t know details. He wasn’t the most pleasant company when he was in the camp.”
Over and over, Kai and I repeat everything we know about Jonathan. About what he was like when I cured him and the woman, Patricia, who came with him. About the timeframe of when he went back to a normal life, until he showed up at the curing camp.
And then the conversation he and I had when he showed up at the shop. The demonstration he held in the basement of the Old City Hall building.
“He’s the crusader type,” Alivia says. “The little man with a big cause and anger in his veins. It’s a dangerous combination.”
“For him, maybe,” Lexington says.
“For all of us, obviously,” Duncan counters. “The timing couldn’t be worse, considering Cyrus is still here.”
“The news station said they are continuing the interview with Jonathan tomorrow,” I say, desperate to give us a direction, some kind of real action to take. “I think we need to send someone to all of the local news stations. Watch, snoop around. It looked like that interview was pre-recorded. They’re probably going to do the same thing with the second interview.”
“She’s right,” Lexington says, his hands stilling on my shoulders. “We might be able to catch Jonathan there, at one of the stations. And if not, we can force someone to give us information as to how to get in touch with him, or find him.”
I don’t care for the way he uses the word force to get information out of some innocent person. But at this point, that’s our option.
“I like it,” Duncan says, nodding his head. “Julie, I need you to look up every news station in the area. Which one interviewed him?”
“Channel three,” Lexington immediately fills in.
Duncan nods. “We’ll send a few people there, watch that one the closest. But we’ll send people to all of them, just to cover our bases.”
He pulls out his phone, and Aleah nearly immediately picks up. He tells her the plan, listens as she creates coverage partnerships, and hangs up.
Julie almost immediately starts rattling off news stations in the area, reading them off her phone. Duncan barks out assignments.
“Where do you want us?” I ask as they all start filing out the door. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, getting ready to go change and head out.
“No way,” Duncan says at the same time as Alivia.
“Your body is already under too much stress,” Alivia says. “We can’t risk you going out and possibly putting yourself into labor any earlier than you have to.”
Right. I forgot. Me and this baby are supposed to be in trouble.
“Fine,” I say, trying to sound disappointed and frustrated, which I am, to some degree. “You all be careful out there. You’ve got new targets on your back. And Charles has gotten desperate and attacked one of us before.”
Duncan only nods, still annoyed that we’re in this position. But Alivia gives a little, sad smile, and walks out with the rest of them. They close the door behind them.
I huff, an exhausted, frustrated sound, and flop back on the bed, only that pulls uncomfortably at my stomach. I wince, rolling onto my side.
“Hey,” Lexington says, shifting positions. He carefully lifts my head into his lap, running his fingers through my hair. “I’m getting worried about you. I know we’re faking the whole pregnancy problems thing, but this kind of stress can’t be good for you or little squish.”
A tiny smile pulls on my lips at the nickname for our daughter. But it doesn’t last long.
“I didn’t mean to make this mess,” I say quietly. “I never saw this coming. And I can’t say that calling Cyrus for help was a mistake, but… Everyone is in danger now, from so many sides.”
Lexington places a hand on my cheek, turning me to look up at him. “You can’t always anticipate every consequence to every single action. There are too many possible outcomes, and the freewill of others just throws a huge twist into everything. This isn’t on you.”
“I know that, logically,” I say, reaching up and lacing a hand through his hair. “Doesn’t mean this isn’t hard.”
Lexington nods. “I get that.” He leans down, gently pressing his lips to mine.
“I’m sorry our wedding night and honeymoon got ruined,” I breathe, and the true sorrow creeps into my chest. “I’ve…” I blush, admitting the words I’m about to confess. “I’ve imagined this night for a long while now, but this definitely isn’t how I pictured it.”
“Don’t hate me for saying it,” he says with a little smile, “but, somehow, I’m not shocked at the turn of events.”
A little chuckle bubbles up from my lips. I smile and shake my head. “It’s all so ridiculous.”
“Yeah, it is,” he returns my smile. But he shifts, climbing out of the bed, and dragging me with him.
“Where are we going?” I ask with a laugh. He pulls me out the door and down the hall.
“We need a do over,” he says as he opens the door for the laundry room. Shada darts out of it, racing out into the hall, nearly tripping me. But we climb the stairs, and Lexington pushes the door to the rooftop open.
The lights are still on up here, and music still plays softly from some forgotten music player. The cake still sits there, beautiful, with our two little slices cut out of it.
The party was completely abandoned.
“It’s kind of a sad scene,” I say, looking around as I hold Lexington’s hand.
“Whatever,” he tells me as he aims for the cake. “This is a party, just for us now! And we didn’t have to set any of it up!”
“But we’re going to have to clean it up now that we aren’t far away on our honeymoon,” I counter with snark, but a smile.
“Yeah right,” he huffs. He pulls me close. “Everyone is worried sick about you and the baby. One word and we’ll have the whole crew over here. Once they’ve found Jonathan and Charles.”
I smile, shaking my head, as I look up at him. “So how does this do-over work?”
“Well,” he says, moving a step closer to the cake. “I believe this is where we left off.”
And he reaches over. And scoops a big handful of cake out of the middle of it. And the mischievous glint now shines in his eyes.
“No,” I say, just half a second too late. He smears it onto my cheek.
So I reach out, grasping my own enormous handful, and shove it into his mouth, smearing it all over.
“Now the licking part,” Lexington laughs as he dodges my attempt to smear him a second time. “I liked that licking part.”
I’m laughing, smiling so hard, despite the circumstances. But I grab the front of his soft cotton t-shirt, pulling him close to me. He smiles like a fool, and I marvel at the fact that he’s my fool.
I lean in, gently touching the tip of my tongue to his jawline. And I slowly drag it up. I grip my hands around his face so he can’t escape, and the little groan that comes up his throat tells me he wouldn’t dream of trying such a thing.
His hands come to my hips, pulling me close. His teeth come to my jawline, grating against my skin, scraping away the cake and frosting there. He lets them fall down to my neck, taking his time, worshiping my skin.
And all the cells in my body explode with excitement. My toes tingle. My breath catches in my throat. My stomach quivers.
I loop my
hands behind his neck and slowly we start swaying to the soft music. It’s a song that I love, one about following the one you love through the eye of the storm, promises to keep them warm.
Lexington starts humming to it, and a smile comes to my lips. After a moment, he sings the words.
I hold myself close to him, covered in cake, smearing it all over between the two of us. But I’m content in this moment.
On my own, I would have stressed and brooded over the events of the evening. I would have obsessed over every little detail going on.
But here we are, only twenty minutes after everyone has gone off to battle, and I’m here on the rooftop. Happy once more. Content. Recapturing the magic of our wedding.
“Best suggestion ever,” I whisper to him, letting my lips brush against his ear.
“It’s my job now,” he says, tracing his nose along my neck, “to make you happy, even in the worst of times. Best job ever.”
I smile, looking back up at him. “Mine too. I know most of our relationship has been skewed to you looking after and taking care of me, but I promise, I’m going to take care of and make you happy, too.”
He smiles, leaning forward to kiss me briefly. “You forget. You have been. You’ve saved my life twice now. Heck, you even called Cyrus to take care of me. Don’t think the weight of that is lost on me.”
I smile again, shaking my head.
“I love us,” I say, looking into his blue eyes. “I love our life. Yes, it’s complicated and stressful, and at times a little bloody. But I love the life we’ve created for ourselves so far.”
His expression grows serious, but happy. He leans forward, pressing his forehead to mine. “Me too,” he promises.
We sway to the music for another minute, our bodies slowly melting into each other. My hands rest on his muscled, strong arms. His own slowly slide lower and lower on my waist. I’m aware of every inch they drop, of every millimeter of space that disappears between us.
And I know we’ve accomplished our do-over. We finished our cake. We had our first dance as husband and wife.
And it’s an unspoken cue when Lexington steps away, pulling me gently by the hand, back toward the door.