Grave Things

by Lindsay Mead

  "Quit moving," Lana whined through the hairpins clamped between her teeth as she piled sections of Vi's hair. "You're making this impossible."

  "I can't help it. I'm giddy and happy." Viola sucked in a short breath. "A little nervous. I can't believe I'm doing this. Do you think it's crazy?"

  Pausing, Lana peered at her through the mirror with a quirked eyebrow. "Viola, it's you. Of course, it's crazy."

  Viola turned, mouth dropping. "Wha—"

  "Are you guys about ready?" Aaron asked as he opened the door to their small dressing room. "Ailbeart is back with all the legal paperwork."

  "Already?" Vi fought the need to fidget while Lana stuffed the last pin into her locks. "How is that possible?"

  "Apparently things come easier when you're rich." He shrugged.

  Stepping back to double check her work, Lana snorted. "Ain't that the truth."

  Viola ignored her. "Aaron, do you think this is crazy?"

  "What? You're kidding, right?" He gave her the same disbelieving look that she'd gotten from Lana.

  "No, Lana thinks it's crazy." Viola crossed her arms with a pout.

  Aaron glowered at the apprentice. "That's because Lana has underlying abandonment issues that make it difficult for her to imagine ever committing herself to another person."

  "Oh, what"—Flopping onto the loveseat, Lana lifted the camera around her neck and sneered at Aaron—"God gossiping in your head makes you a psychiatrist now?"

  "But Aaron." Vi snapped her fingers, not allowing the topic to stray. "Do you think what I'm doing is insane? Is this a mistake?"

  "Love is never a mistake, Vi. Never." Aaron crossed the room and took her hands. "You and Ian are vowing to love one another always. How can that be crazy? How could I not want that for you?"

  His words erasing her doubts, Viola smiled. "I love you."

  "I love you too." Aaron squeezed her hands for emphasis, then chuckled. "Mom and Grams are gonna kill you, though. You know that, right?"

  "You mean for getting married without them?" She tilted her head knowingly. Yeah, this news was really going to set them off. "Probably. But I'll make it up to them by having a second, much bigger, wedding back home—after Ian's soul is safe."

  Lana snapped a picture of Vi and Aaron. "Hey, does this mean that we'll get to take the family jet to exorcisms from now on?"

  "I'm not marrying him for his money, Lana," Viola grumbled, knowing that people would make similar assumptions.

  "Well, no, but you have to admit, it's a perk." Lana kept taking photos as Ailbeart appeared in the doorway.

  "If you're ready, Ms. Danvers, they're all waiting." The valet handed Viola a large bouquet of vibrantly-colored, local flowers.

  "Ailbeart, these are stunning!" Vi gaped as he handed a smaller version to Lana.

  "Thank you. I confess though, I believe I could have done better with more time." Ailbeart smoothed the front of his suit. "Mr. Grave has become impetuous since you came into his life."

  She lowered the flowers from her nose. "Do you think that's a good thing?"

  "I do, actually," he said after a moment's thought. "His grandfather raised him without an inch of leeway, so Ian became a dependable businessman. That's not a bad thing, but I find that life is rather gray without any spontaneity."

  "And what kind of spontaneity do you have in your life, Ailbeart," Viola teased, causing Lana to gasp excitedly.

  He met her gaze. "A valet never tells."

  Minutes later, Viola was making her way into the church's main hall. She never expected to be married in a church—okay, she never expected to be married, but that was beside the point. Viola always imagined that, if she ever tied the knot, it would be on her grandparent's farm. With Ian wanting to marry immediately, a ranch wedding was out of the question. The most important thing was to keep Ian safe. As long as they were on sacred ground, no strigoi could harm him.

  Viola made another mental note to thank Miguel for convincing the local clergy to allow the ceremony. Generally speaking, priests weren't favorable to Vegas-style weddings. It likely took a lot of convincing on Miguel's part—and a sizable donation from Ian.

  Viola hooked her arm with Aaron's as the organ music transitioned to the wedding march. Lana, in a simple black dress, reached the far end of the aisle and quickly exchanged her bouquet for her camera. Maid of Honor and wedding photographer, what a trooper.

  The church was small, and poor compared to the cathedrals that Viola had grown up in, but this building felt older than those, well used and well loved. A single crucifix rose from the dais and an altar with dozens of lit candles sat in the corner. Miguel was the only observer in the pews. Yet, rather than feeling empty, the building made their little gathering feel intimate.

  Ian watched Viola walk toward him. He grinned from ear to ear with Ailbeart at his side and a priest on his right. In a black tux and bow tie, his hair brushed back, Ian looked like a present wrapped solely for her. Viola couldn't believe how lucky she was. Judging by the wideness of his smile, Ian felt the same about her.

  Like their relationship so far, the ceremony was short and sweet. After the priest announced them as Mr. and Mrs. Grave, they lingered in the main hall to take pictures and sign papers. All the while, Viola marveled at the ring Ian had chosen for her. The diamond was lovely on a simple gold band, but what it symbolized meant so much more to Vi…They belonged to each other.

  "You like it, don't you?" Ian asked in a whisper, as the others conversed. "The other rings were gaudy. They didn't feel like you."

  "This ring feels like me?" She glanced at him skeptically. "It's a classic."

  "Exactly." With a twinkle in his eyes, Ian turned to the group. "Ailbeart, is everything ready?"

  "Of course, sir." Inclining his head, the valet gestured to the church doors. "The hotel has been bought out and a celebratory dinner has been prepared in honor of your union."

  "Bought out?" Viola peered at Ian sideways.

  He winked. "I don't like sharing."

  "Me neither." Grabbing her new husband by the coat, she playfully warned, "And don't you forget it."

  "Never." Ian threw his arms around Viola and kissed her hard.

  The hotel Ian had laid claim to could've been a hundred-year-old hacienda as far as Viola could tell. It was stunning with tan walls and a big open balcony spanning the second story. A mosaic design covered the courtyard floor with a bubbling, circular, multi-tiered fountain at the center. Laden with more food than their small party could eat, a single table sat in the open.

  Though, they sure tried. It was a better reception than Viola could've hoped for on such short notice. They drank, laughed, and ate the most delicious food that Mexico had to offer. It all felt good, felt right. As day turned to night, their roof became a beautiful blanket of stars. The staff went around dimming the courtyard lights, creating a charming and enchanting atmosphere.

  "I'm so happy for you, Vi." Aaron hugged her goodnight, his eyes half-lidded from the eventful day. He then shook Ian's hand. "You better be good to her."

  "Absolutely," Ian agreed without hesitation.

  "Lana." Aaron nudged the girl's shoulder. She'd dozed off at the table an hour ago to the sound of their laughter and boisterous chatter. "Come on, I'll walk you to your room."

  Lana groggily pushed to her feet, then stumbled to Ian, threw her arms around him, and squeezed with a yawn. "Never forget that if you hurt my boss, I'll summon demons to make you their bitch."

  Ian stilled, gaping at the ballsy kid. Laughing, Viola and Miguel exchanged glances. Normally Lana wasn't so frank, but it was always clear that she had some serious grit hiding beneath the surface. Giving Ian one last pat on the shoulder, she let Aaron put an arm around her and they walked together into the hotel.

  "My God." Ian cracked an astonished smile. "What did I marry into?"

  Viola trailed a finger along the open collar where he let his bow tie hang. "Didn't Ailbeart warn you that there's a fine line between love and crazy?"<
br />
  "I tried." Ailbeart swirled his wine, looking unusually relaxed. "But when Mr. Grave sees something that he wants, it's hard to change his mind."

  The soft twang of guitar strings drew their attention to Miguel. "You two still need to have your first dance as husband and wife."

  "Oh, that's right." Viola swiveled her shoulders seductively and backed out into the courtyard. "Come dance with me, my husband."

  Miguel must have been playing his whole life because he was a master with that guitar. He strummed perfectly with the movement of Viola's body, making it seem as if the music actually came from her. With his feet propped on the table's edge, Miguel reclined in his chair and hummed the most sensual notes to ever be hummed.

  Caught in the music and the sway of her hips, Ian stared at her. "I love hearing you call me, husband."

  Walking over, he grabbed her hand and yanked her hips flat against his. They danced as Miguel's velvety voice crooned into the night, their bodies flush together. Viola slipped a hand around Ian's neck and rested her forehead against his. Eyes closed, they got lost in the song and in each other.

  Suddenly, Ian swept Viola off her feet. She squeaked in surprise and clutched onto his shoulders. Ian grinned, carrying her toward the hotel.

  "Sorry, Miguel, can't wait for the end of the song," Ian shouted back. "I need to take my wife to bed right away."

  "I understand, Señor!" Miguel called after, continuing to play.

  "Goodnight, sir and ma'am." Ailbeart lifted his wine glass.

  "Don't call me ma'am," Viola attempted to scold the valet, as Ian carried her through a doorway. "Remember, I'm your boss now, too!"

  Ailbeart smiled. "Understood, ma'am."

  There was no chance for a reply as they disappeared inside, and Ian jogged them up a flight of stairs. It led to a single door, which Ian leaned her against in order to free a hand. He fished in his pocket for the key, his face inches away. Viola couldn't help smiling at him. Everything he did was so enduring to her. Feeling Vi's eyes on him, Ian angled his head and sweetly kissed her. There was a hint of need behind that softness, and it spoke to something deep inside her.

  Ian pushed open the door. "You ready?"

  "Oh, yeah." She wiggled her eyebrows excitedly.

  Ian stepped over the thick line of salt along the threshold and Viola noted a similar line in front of the balcony entrance. She gave mental props to whichever one of their associates thought to do that. Salt was by no means a full-proof protection plan, especially against a greater demon, but it was a decent short-term shield. The duffel, Vi's violin case, and other luggage sat at the end of the bed. Uriel was on the dresser. Other than that, she had no interest in the room.

  Kissing her deeply, Ian let Viola slide to her feet and his hands slipped beneath her skirt where they lingered on her bare ass. His lips traveled from her mouth to her chin, and then to her neck. Viola gripped his toned arms, enjoying the sensuous feel of his tongue on her skin. Heart thumping excitedly, she tipped her head with a sigh.

  Viola wanted to feel more of him and interrupted his kisses temporarily to push off his jacket, then rip the shirt from his body. Leaving a trail of pecks, Ian's mouth moved to her collar. Viola's fingers traced the muscles on his chest as she sought to unbutton his pants. Her fingers scraped his erection through his briefs. Knowing that he was ready for her, made Vi's core purr with anticipation.

  Hands on her hips, Ian turned Viola around. He kissed her neck and dragged her dress' zipper down to her lower back, his knuckles grazing her skin. Without tugging her dress off, Ian nudged her against the wall and dropped to his knees. Viola barely had time to register what he was planning before he shifted her thong aside and introduced his tongue to her slick area.

  Shocked in the best way, Viola shoved her breasts against the wall and splayed her hands on the plaster. Holy God, did he know what he was doing with that tongue. His skill made Viola quiver, made her legs part in a silent request for more. Ian obliged by shoving his tongue nice and deep. Vi moaned from her chest, curving her torso.

  Feeding on her roaring desire, Ian jumped to his feet. His breath shuttered on the nape of her neck and Viola felt the tip of his erection gently press into her opening. He let it slip past to coat his shaft in her wetness. This time when he pushed at her area, he found less resistance.

  As Ian plunged deep, his right hand covered hers on the wall. His left slid along her stomach and she put her own on top, interlacing their fingers. Their intercourse this time was different. They weren't in any hurry. They just wanted to touch, to connect in the most basic way.

  Ian leisurely swung his hips back and forth, letting her body gradually become accustomed to his girth. Viola let her head rest on Ian's shoulder while he placed his lips on her chin. Oh, it was good. In moments, they were a mass of grunts and moans. Viola shifted onto her tiptoes as Ian's carnal thrusts lifted her partially off the ground. They were in perfect rhythm, their climaxes building together.

  His fingers gripping into her side, Ian abruptly slowed in the hopes of forestalling his orgasm. They remained there and gazed at the wall as they descended from a mountain of lust. Enjoying the feel of her core spasming around his erection, Viola caressed his arm tenderly.

  "I love you," Ian panted against her ear. "I don't think I've told you that."

  Vi extracted herself from her husband and faced him. "You didn't have to, but I love you too."

  Touching his muscular abs, she encouraged him to the bed. A good shove and Ian was flat on his back, his beautiful body displayed just for her. Viola pushed the dress from her shoulders. In a single swoop, it swept off her body and piled on the floor at her feet.

  It was amazing how good it felt to be naked in front of him. He didn't make her feel dirty or like an object. Instead, his eyes made her feel exquisite and free in a way that was pure. Sliding her knees onto the soft bed, Viola straddled Ian and took him wholly into her.

  She rode Ian long, hard, and slow as his hands explored every inch of her. The pressure built in her core, taking her higher and higher until the driving force of Ian's pumping hips brought her to orgasm. He watched her moan in ecstasy, her back arching, and devoured the sight of her flushed pleasure.

  As Viola came down from her orgasm, Ian flipped her onto her side and dragged her knee onto his hip. He stared into her eyes while he rocked. This position was entirely new to Vi. It wasn't about speed, it was about their love. The constant embrace allowed them to bask in the existence of each other's passion.

  It was true lovemaking, and they were lost in its haze for hours. Ian had no desire to let himself finish. He only wanted to take her over the edge again and again. When he finally gave into his body's demands, it was explosive and powerful.

  After, they stayed together in bed. Just talking. Ian shared about his childhood and family while Vi laid in his arms. She never knew she could be so content. When Viola told him as much, Ian took her again—and she was very happy to let him.

  24

  The yellow hues of the early morning sunrise landed on Ian's body, wrapped in ruffled sheets as he reclined on the bed. Viola sat naked on the footboard while dragging her bow across the strings of her violin. A delicate breeze swept through the open balcony doorway, tussling Viola's loose hair and tickling her nipples until they puckered.

  Viola never knew she could feel this good or be this happy. She and her husband—her husband—had pulled an all-nighter of quiet conversations, dozing in each other's arms, delicious room service, and marathon sex. Still feeling Ian's touch on her skin, Vi sang a few wordless notes to complement the sound of her violin.

  "What song is that?" With an arm behind his head, Ian watched her in soft wonderment.

  "A love song." She smirked playfully.

  The tune had been playing at the edge of Viola's consciousness for days now. If Scotland had a sound, this was it. She closed her eyes, seeing the rolling hills, the moss-covered trees, and the cool breeze. Mostly, it reminded her of Ian; the way
his voice lilted when he talked, the way his eyes glimmered when he looked at her.

  His gaze consumed every inch of her nude form. "Who's it by?"

  "I wrote it for you," she said, then sang a few more notes.

  "You wrote me a song?" He pushed up and began crawling toward her, the sheets falling from his wonderfully bare body. "It's beautiful. You're beautiful."

  Viola continued playing as he perched in front of her. "You make me feel beautiful."

  Ian ran his hands along her thighs, his eyes still devouring her shape. "Would it be asking too much, if I want you to promise me that you'll write love songs for me forever?"

  "You're a hard man to please, Mr. Grave," she whispered, and Ian brought his mouth to hers. She tasted their blueberry breakfast on his tongue. "But, nothing would make me happier than writing love songs for you 'til the end of my days."

  "I can't wait to hear them," he murmured against her lips as his thumb swept tenderly over one of her breasts.

  "You're insatiable," she groaned, feeling warmth rush to her core.

  With a rumble emitting from his chest, his kisses blazed a path to her throat. "You make me insatiable."

  "Is that you, Señora?" Miguel's shout traveled through their open balcony. "How can an exorcist play so beautifully?"

  "Really? He's flirting with you during your honeymoon?" Ian glowered and rolled off the bed with a humph.

  Chuckling, Viola watched his round ass bounce as he jogged into the bathroom. She then returned her violin and bow to their case with a smirk. Ian reappeared to toss her a silk robe. Even though she loved being naked with Ian, the fabric felt fantastic sliding along her skin. Ian remained in the buff and went to nibble from the nearly-empty food tray.

  Hating to lose that view, Viola stepped over the salt line and went to the balcony railing. "Good morning, Miguel."

  The brujo waited in the courtyard in a dark purple suit, his hair pulled neatly back, and a fresh set of Day of The Dead paint around his eyes. The morning light glinted off the half-a-dozen rings in his eyebrow. He smiled greedily at the sight of her. "Mm, satisfied looks good on you."