Marcus looked incredibly handsome. He was wearing a typical black and white tuxedo that was custom made especially for him. His hair was still wild, his sideburns still long, but besides that, he had shaved the whiskers from his cheeks. His hands were clasped together, resting in front of him, and though he tried to stop himself from doing so, his hazel eyes darted back and forth, wondering where Bridgette was going to come in, and when his wedding would finally take place.
To distract himself, he decided to look out at those sitting on both sides of the center aisle. His brother, Gerard, should be here with him. It still upset Marcus to think about what had happened, but he didn't regret banning Gerard from the pack. Things never turned out the way one planned, it would seem…
Take Bridgette for instance. Marcus had no idea he would even feel something comparable to the way he felt about the young woman who currently held his heart in her hand. He never thought he would experience such a bout of emotion in the first place, let alone for a former agent of the Nocturnal Defense Society. And yet here he was, impatiently waiting for her arrival in hopes that they could get married as soon as possible. Marcus had always known it was his duty to choose a mate, breed, and keep his bloodline going, but he never thought it was possible that he was actually looking forward to spending the rest of his life with someone. If it was anyone but Bridgette, he highly doubted he would feel the same.
There was just something about her that allowed her to bury herself underneath his skin. It was as though Fate had worked behind the scenes to ensure Bridgette was strong enough to survive her Change, to ensure that he picked her out of everybody so when he did finally select her, it felt as though he had no choice in the matter. That's what he had felt, at least, when he had first smelled her, seen her, and when he had towered over her. He couldn't help but nip her neck. He needed to see his mark on her throat. He needed to inject himself into her without knowing that she would transform into a werewolf herself.
But now he was grateful for everything that had happened. When Marcus had been going through his issues, he didn't understand the reasoning behind it all, but now…
Suddenly, he saw a flash of auburn hair take a seat in back of his right side. Marcus’ eyes narrowed in her direction; that was Abigail, finally taking her seat. He knew Abigail was helping Bridgette get ready, but now that she was here, did that mean Bridgette was finally finished?
Before he could think more on it, a beautiful, familiar tune started playing, causing the audience to go quiet and Marcus to stiffen. This was the infamous Bridal March, and it was being played by a grand piano rather than an organ. Instead of feeling ominous, the music began to calm him down, and his eyes fixated on the aisle. Soon, Bridgette would be walking down there. Soon they would exchange their vows, and soon, they would be married.
Like a vision, she was there with her friend Kendell. He was happy to see despite their differences Bridgette and Kendell retained their friendship. That was important to him. He didn’t want her to lose herself completely.
She wore a long veil, and her gold hair was curled and pinned up into a formal bun. Her makeup was light but enhancing, and as she started to walk down the aisle, her eyes only paid attention to Marcus’. She bit her bottom lip – a nervous gesture he recognized – and he offered her an encouraging smile. She looked so incredibly wonderful; Marcus was, for a long moment, stupefied. Her dress embodied the perfect amount of classy and sexy. The dress was a halter with a heart-shaped cup. The cleavage she revealed was tasteful, and the gown cinched at the waist before flowing down past her ankles. Abigail was up again, holding the train of her dress and watching the woman who would in moments become her queen walk to the man she loved.
When she reached the altar, Bridgette handed Abigail the bouquet of flowers she was holding before turning to Marcus and mouthing the word, "Hi," to him.
Marcus grinned at her and took her hands within his before mouthing the same word back. Suddenly, his nervousness had disappeared. All that mattered was the woman in front of him, and the fact that he would be getting married to her in mere moments.
The ceremony itself was absolutely beautiful. Thane began the introductions to the wedding itself while Razi actually married the two. They recited personal vows that they had made themselves and even managed to kiss just as the sun started to set. When Marcus pressed his lips against Bridgette's, something inside of him flared up. However, it wasn't due to physical desire (though there was no doubt that he constantly responded in such a way to her) but rather, what he felt for her caused him to love her even more. His lips pressed gently against hers, and her gentle hands clutched his cheeks as she responded. For a soft kiss, it was rather passionate but far from inappropriate.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I am honored to be the first person to present to you, Alpha Marcus Sterling, and his Queen, Bridgette Sterling!" Razi exclaimed, and the audience threw their hands up and let out a long howl.
It would be difficult for his pack to get used to having a human as a Beta, but she wasn’t human anymore. She was all wolf, and he knew they would protect her without question. Bridgette would also win their respect because she won his and that was the hardest thing anyone could gain from him.
Bridgette's eyes were filling with tears, but she tried to suppress them as best as she could because she didn't want to ruin her makeup. Marcus was grinning wolfishly at what had just taken place – he was married now to the woman he loved. The feeling continued to burn through him as he picked Bridgette up in his arms and spun her around, throwing his head back and laughing. His laughter was contagious and it wasn’t long before she joined in.
Because Marcus Sterling was an Alpha male, there would be no honeymoon. It was necessary to stay close to his pack unless anyone was in danger and needed leadership, but Bridgette didn't mind.
"Come," Marcus whispered in her ear as he set her down. "There's just one more thing we need to do before we follow the crowd to the reception."
Bridgette said nothing, but arched her brow, trying to figure out just what Marcus was hiding from her. His lips curled into a smirk, and Bridgette realized she probably wasn't going to get any information out of him until they were already there. It was the tree Marcus had showed her before, with the initials of his parents encompassed in a heart. Her eyes widened slightly, and he glanced at him, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.
"This is a private tradition between kings and their queens," he explained in his normal gravelly voice. "It symbolizes that love is immortal and that if love is strong enough, it can and will live forever. I saw it happen with my parents and I feel it with you." He placed a hand on the tree itself and looked at it with a rare fondness. "We have no idea how long trees live without some kind of force tearing it down, whether it was something natural like a storm or something caused by man like deforestation. Personally, I believe they can live hundreds, maybe even thousands of years. And I believe our love will last even longer."
Bridgette felt the tears now flowing freely with absolute happiness, her makeup be damned. She watched as Marcus took out a pocketknife and began to carve their initials underneath his parents' heart. When he finished, he handed Bridgette the knife, and she realized he wanted her to carve out the heart. She took the knife and as best as she could, finished what he started.
"Forever," Marcus murmured, wrapping his arm around her shoulder as he placed an intimate kiss on the top of her head.
"Forever," Bridgette agreed, staring at their heart and their initials.
They would live together forever in the oak of that tree.
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1
She didn’t know why she was here. She shouldn’t be here. That’s what everyone said. Her maid, her mother, the paintings that hung in the halls of the elaborate mansion her parents bought her as a graduation gift. She cringed at how
tacky the gesture was – it had to be her mother’s doing – but there was nothing she could do about it and there was no way she would ask them to return it or sell it or rent it out. She didn’t want to be rude, after all.
Her father and her friends were the only people who supported her venture into business. She wanted to be more than an heiress, more than an airhead who inherited a bunch of money, married for even more money, and popped out children like it was her full-time job. Avery Montgomery wanted more than that from her life. She demanded it.
As such, she went to college for business and got her BA from Stanford. From there, she joined their graduate program, and at twenty-four, graduated with a Masters. She knew what she was doing. Just as well as her father did when he started his investment company. She was their only child and she was poised to take over his company with his blessing. When he told her to research potential investments for their company, she knew it was a test. She knew her father wanted to see what she could give his company, and she was willing to do what was necessary in order to earn his trust.
Which was how she ended up here. Waiting in the small lobby of a two-room company Avery thought was going to make her father’s company lots and lots of money. Sure, from the outside, it looked a bit sketchy. The neighborhood left much to be desired – she didn’t think she had ever heard of Honesty Avenue, though the street name was telling. There were a couple of homeless men sleeping on bus benches. Mail advertisements scattered the air like they belonged there. Apartment complexes and businesses were intermingled on main streets, leaving kids nowhere safe and nowhere green to play once they finished homework. Parents probably worked at least two jobs which meant those same kids had no supervision, which explained why a group of teenage boys on bikes rode up and down the sidewalk, loitering in front of the liquor store, trying to intimidate customers into purchasing them alcohol despite being underage. Even Avery, when she stepped out of her Lexus, got catcalled and whistled at; some complimented her while others complimented her car. She made sure it was locked before she walked through the small office space – though even that simplistic description felt overwhelming, and pushed away some prickles of worry that her safety was in jeopardy.
“Remember to text me when you get there, just to make sure you’re safe,” Rick told her before she left the mansion – it felt weird for Avery to call it her home; it didn’t feel like home, just another display at the rich being rich. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go? I don’t even have to go in. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”
Avery laughed. “I appreciate it, Rick, really, I do,” she said as she walked to the car. “But I’m a grown adult. I can do this on my own. Don’t you have faith in me?”
The silver Lexus waited for her to slide in the front seat. She grinned and a tiny thrill sparked through her body. She loved to drive. Rick didn’t understand why she just didn’t hire a driver, but he didn’t understand. And that wasn’t his fault.
He didn’t answer her question. Instead, he leaned against the doorframe and said, “At least take a driver. Not as a driver but as a bodyguard.”
Avery smiled but shook her head as she backed out of the driveway. She was doing this by herself, and that was final.
There was no secretary to greet her when she walked in, though when she opened the door, a bell clattered against the inside door handle, indicating that someone had walked in. Her eyes flickered across the small lobby and she was surprised to see someone else sitting in one of the plastic chairs, someone she recognized. Her eyes widened and she cleared her throat, hoping he didn’t notice her surprise. Judging by the way his lips curved up and the way his black eyes twinkled, he had.
Shit.
Avery took a seat in the only other vacant chair offered in the lobby, flattening her palms on the skirt of her dress, wiping away wrinkles that were not there. She fixed her eyes on the clock in front of her and pretended not to notice when the man next to her blatantly began to stare at her.
“Hi,” he finally said. His voice was smooth caramel, not too deep but enough to be masculine.
Avery’s eyes shot to him though she kept her face straight in front of her. “Hello,” she said and swallowed. Her throat kept going dry, something she didn’t quite understand.
“My name is Lucas Cruz,” he said and reached across the lone waiting area table with a small lamp and a few outdated business magazines in order to offer her his hand.
“Avery Montgomery,” she said. For a moment, she stared at his hand, unsure whether or not she wanted to take it. Wanted to touch it. She’d heard stories of Lucas Cruz, how he infused pleasure in the simplest of touches, how he had the ability to bring a woman to her knees with a simple glance, how he inspired moisture to spring up between a woman’s thighs just by biting his bottom lip. However, today was about being strong and independent and unafraid. As such, she forced herself to shake his hand, trying to ensure her grip was tight and noticeable.
If he did notice it, he gave no indication of it.
“I know who you are,” he told her, dropping his hand and placing it back in his lap. “I’m actually surprised you’re here and not” –
“My father?” Avery asked, and she could not keep the bitterness out of her voice if she tried.
He looked at her a long moment before saying, “Actually, I was going to say your fiancé.” He pushed his brow together. “What’s his name? Dick? Has a knack for knowing how to close a business deal?”
Avery rolled her eyes. “His name is Rick Ashton,” she told him. “And yes, he has a knack for business. It’s why my father hired him in the first place.”
“Right, right.” Lucas nodded a couple of times, his long index finger tapping his chin. “Was your engagement arranged as well, or was that just part of the deal?”
“Excuse me?” Avery asked, wrinkling her brow. She could not believe she had been intimidated by him a few moments before. At least she knew that his reputation was lacking. Her thighs were as dry as the desert and there had been no pleasure while shaking his hand. He was good looking, certainly, but that was it. His personality was lacking and that was putting it nicely.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s not your fault your fiancé is a jackass. Like I was saying, I’m surprised you’re here instead of him. Didn’t think you’d be the type.”
Avery furrowed her brow despite her mother's best efforts at getting her to break such a damaging habit - "You don't want Botox, dear. Not at your age." - and flashed burning, narrowed eyes at the man next to him. In that moment, it didn't matter how eye-catching he was. It didn't matter that the faint hint of his cologne was clean and masculine like a sea breeze. It didn't matter that his eyes - God, those brown eyes that seemed to stare straight into her soul - were penetrating her to her place. The fact that he dismissed her was infuriating.
"I'm sorry but your depiction of me not being the business-type is highly problematic and sexist," she told him. He looked highly amused by her assessment of him and perked his brow to get her to continue. Not that she needed his permission. "If I was a man, regardless of my background or experience, you would never say I wasn't the business type, especially if I'm set to inherit his father's company at some point in the near-future. Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I don't know what I'm doing."
Lucas tilted his head to the side, scrunching his brow. It was hard to look away from him when his face was so animated. "I'm sorry," he said, "but do you know what you're doing?" He paused, letting the question hang in the air between them. "And just so you know, if you were a man who had no experience, I would ask him the same thing. Business is business. It doesn't matter if you have a cock, it doesn't matter if you don't. What matters is how you get the job done." His eyes suddenly found hers, adding layers to his brown eyes. "Think of it this way: business is like sex. Do you want someone who knows what they're doing, someone you can trust will get you to your precipice in the most efficient and pleasurable way possible, or do you want someon
e bumbling through the motions, not having any idea what to do with you and your body and making it up as you go along?"
"There is nothing wrong with being a virgin," Avery said through gritted teeth.
When she realized what words came out of her mouth, her jaw dropped open and Lucas's brow shot at right up. She couldn't be sure but his nose pointed in the air and his nostrils flared just a smudge, almost as though he were sniffing the air. Her face turned red - did virgin have a different scent? And if it did, could Lucas actually smell it? His eyes darkened just a bit as well, with a look Avery could only describe as animalistic. She had never seen it before except on dogs when they stared at a juicy piece of meat they weren't allowed to touch. Avery swallowed and sat up straight.
"I suppose that depends on your partner," Lucas allowed. "Your fiancé would definitely mind an inexperienced business partner. I, on the other hand..."
"How would you know anything about my fiancé and what he wants?" Avery asked in a cool voice, trying to keep control over her tone. "And why would you think I would care about your preferences?"
For the first time in their meeting, Avery watched as a flicker of darkness tainted his face. His jaw locked and his deep brown eyes somehow got darker. He looked... Mesmerizing. She swallowed again. He kept making her throat go dry.
"Your fiancé and I went to business school together," he said. His voice was low, casual, but there was a tightly controlled edge to it that she couldn't help but pick up. It was dangerous, she realized. His tone. It was both alluring and terrifying. She wondered if he realized what kind of effect it had on her. "He's not a good person, Avery. May I call you Avery?"
She pressed her lips together but did not tell him he could not. Perhaps it had to do with the way he said her name, like a promise of pleasure he would fulfill in the near-future. Perhaps it had to do with the way his lips formed around her name and drew her eyes to them. Before she could stop herself, she darted her tongue across her bottom lip, wetting it as though in preparation for using it soon.
The Somerset Series: A Box Set: Books 2-4 Page 17