Sabin looked amazing. He wore a black tux, his hair slicked back, and when he turned to face the door, watching for Gwen, his entire face lit. With love. With pride. Bianka’s jealousy increased. She wanted that. Wanted her man to find her perfect in every way.
Was that too much to ask?
Apparently so. Stupid Lysander.
“Go, go, go,” Gwen ordered, giving them a little push.
Bianka kicked into motion, heading toward Strider, her appointed groomsman. He smiled at her when she reached him. He would be proud to call her his woman, she thought. She tried to make herself return the gesture, but her eyes were too busy filling with tears. She looked around, trying to distract herself.
The chapel really was beautiful. The glittery white flowers she’d hung from the ceiling were thick and lush and offered a canopy, a haven. They were the best part of the decor, if you asked her. Candles flickered with golden light, twining with shadows.
Kaia approached her side, and everyone except for Gideon stood. The music changed, slowing down to the bridal march. Gwen and Taliyah appeared. Sabin’s breath caught. Yes, that was the way a man should react to the sight of his woman.
What makes you think you were ever Lysander’s woman?
Because she was his one temptation. Because of the reverent way he had touched her. Because she liked how he made her feel. Because they balanced each other. Because he completed her in a way she hadn’t known she needed. He was the light to her darkness.
He was willing to show you that light. Over and over again.
Perhaps she should have fought for him. That’s what she was, after all. A fighter. Yet she’d given in as if he meant nothing to her when he had somehow become the most important thing in her life.
Bianka didn’t mean to, but she tuned out as Paris gave his speech and the happy couple recited their vows, her thoughts remaining focused on Lysander. Should she try and fight for him now? If so, how would she go about it?
Only when the crowd cheered did she snap out of her haze, watching as Sabin and Gwen kissed. Then they were marching down the aisle and out the doors together. The rest of the bridal party made their way out, as well.
“Shall we?” Strider asked, holding out his arm for her.
“She can’t.” Paris grabbed her arm. “You’re needed in that room.” With his free hand, he pointed.
“Why?” Was he planning revenge against her for forcing him to oil-wrestle Lysander? He hadn’t mentioned it in the days since her return to Buda, but he couldn’t be happy with her. He should be thanking her, for gods’ sake. He’d gotten to touch all of Lysander’s hawtness.
Paris rolled his eyes. “Just go before your boyfriend decides he’s tired of waiting and comes out here.”
Her boyfriend. Lysander? Couldn’t be. Could it? But why would he have come? Heart drumming in her chest, she walked forward. She didn’t allow herself to run, though she wanted to soooo badly. She reached the door. Her hand shook as she turned the knob.
Hinges creaked. Then she was staring into—an empty room. Her teeth ground together. Paris’s revenge, just as she’d figured. Of course. That rat bastard piece of shit was going to pay. She wasn’t just going to make him oil-wrestle. She was going to—
“Hello, Bianka.”
Lysander.
Gasping, she whipped around. Her eyes widened. In an instant, the chapel had been transformed. No longer were her sisters and friends inside. Lysander and his kind occupied every spare inch. Angels were everywhere, light surrounding them and putting Gwen’s candles to shame.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, not daring to hope.
“I came to beg your forgiveness.” His arms spread. “I came to tell you that I am proud to be your man. I brought my friends and brethren to bear witness to my proclamation.”
She swallowed, still not letting hope take over. “But I’m evil and that’s not going to change. I’m your temptation. You could, I don’t know, lose everything by being with me.” The thought hit her, and she wanted to wilt. He could lose everything. No wonder he had wanted to destroy her. No wonder he had wanted to hide her.
“No, you are not evil. And I don’t want you to change. You are beautiful and intelligent and brave. But more than that, you are my everything. I am nothing without you. Not good, not right, not complete. And do not worry. I will not lose everything as you said. You have not committed an unpardonable sin.”
She gulped. “And if I do?”
“I will fall.”
Okay. A small kernel of hope managed to seep inside her. But no way would she let him fall. Ever. He loved being an angel. “What brought this on?”
“I finally pulled my head out of my ass,” he said dryly.
He’d said ass. Lysander had just said the word ass. More hope beat its way inside and she had to press her lips together to keep from smiling. And crying! Tears were springing in her eyes, burning.
Could they actually make their relationship work? Just a little bit ago, she’d been grateful—or pretending to be grateful—that they were apart, since so many obstacles existed.
“I only hope you can love so foolish a man. I am willing to live wherever you desire. I am willing to do anything you need to win you back.” He dropped to his knees. “I love you, Bianka Skyhawk. I would be proud to be yours.”
He was proud of her. He wanted her. He loved her. It was everything she’d secretly dreamed about this past week. Yes, they could make this work. They would be together, and that was the most important thing. But she told him none of that.
“Now?” she screeched instead. “You decided to introduce me to your friends now? When I look like this?” Scowling, she peeked over his shoulder at them and saw their stunned expressions. “I usually look better than this, you know. You should have seen me the other day. When I was naked.”
Lysander stood. “That’s all you have to say to me?”
She focused back on him. His eyes were as wide as hers had been, his arms crossed over his middle. “No. There’s more,” she grumbled. “But I will never live this yellow gown thing down, you know.”
“Bianka.”
“Yes, I love you, too. But if you ever decide I’m unworthy again, I’ll show you just how demonic I can be.”
“Deal. But you don’t have to worry, love,” he said, a slow smile lifting those delectable lips. “It is I who am unworthy. I only pray you never learn of this.”
“Oh, I know it already,” she said, and his grin spread. “Now c’mere, you.” She cupped the back of his neck and jerked him down for a kiss.
His arms banded around her, holding her close. She’d never thought to be paired with an angel, but she couldn’t regret it now. Not when Lysander was the angel in question.
“Are you sure you’re ready for me?” she asked him when they came up for air.
He nipped at her chin. “I’ve been ready for you my entire life. I just didn’t know it until now.”
“Good.” With a whoop, she jumped up and wound her legs around his waist. A wave of gasps circled the room. They were still here? “Ditch your friends, I’ll blow off my sister’s reception and we’ll go oil-wrestle.”
“Funny,” he said, wings enveloping her as he flew her up, up and into his cloud. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
LOVE ME TO DEATH
Maggie Shayne
PROLOGUE
Valentine’s Day, Twenty-two Years Ago
Port Lucinda, Maine
DAVID TOOK A LONG PULL from the bottle. It was only wine, and it was cheap wine lifted from the back of Brad’s older brother’s Jeep before he left on his road trip. He wouldn’t even notice it was missing until he got to Miami. It tasted like hell, but beggars (or thieves, in this case) couldn’t be choosers, and none of the five boys currently sucking down the wine were old enough to have bought it legally. So they’d take what they could get.
They deserved a good drunk after what they’d been through. It was David’s first one ever, tho
ugh he wouldn’t admit that to the other guys if his life depended on it.
And then Brad said, “Damn, I’m dizzy. And I think my lips are going numb. Is this normal?”
“What?” Kevin asked. “You never been drunk before?”
“Hell no.”
Kevin grinned crookedly and said, “Me neither,” and then they all started laughing as if it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard in their lives.
They were standing in a small circle outside the old Muller place, passing the fourth and final wine bottle around. David didn’t know why it was called the old Muller place. He’d never known any Mullers to live in Port Lucinda—never known anyone to live in that old house, period.
He looked at the place now, its weathered gray boards and broken windows and sagging roof. Some of the shutters were missing, while others hung from one hinge, ready to fall off.
“I can’t believe she did this to me,” Mark moaned, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he passed the bottle to the right. “I mean, right before Valentine’s Day.”
“I know, man.” David slapped his friend’s shoulder. “It must have sucked walking in on her making out with that jock.”
“Big time.”
“At least Sally had the courtesy to dump me to my face,” Brad said. “Not that it sucks any less. Dumped is dumped.”
Kevin nodded. “I guess I’m the lucky one. Mine’s only out of town for two months.”
David looked at Randy, who was silent, and drinking more deeply than any of them. His girlfriend’s family had moved to Hong Kong when her father’s company offered him a huge promotion if he would transfer there. Hong Kong. It might as well be the moon.
“Still no word from Sierra?” Mark asked him.
David blinked and felt his throat go tight at the mention of her name. Unlike the other guys, he hadn’t been dumped or left behind or betrayed. He’d spent his entire sophomore year trying to work up the nerve to ask Sierra to go out with him. Last week he’d finally been ready to do it. He’d made his plan, figured out what to say, how to do it and when. And that day, she hadn’t shown up for school.
No one had seen or heard from Sierra Terrence since. And no one knew where she was. The cops had been in and out of school all week, questioning students and teachers and staff. But no one knew shit.
“Dave?” Mark nudged him with an elbow, handed him the bottle.
“No, nothing. I mean, there are all kinds of rumors, but no one knows a damn thing.”
“Yeah,” Kevin said. “I heard her dad was abusing her and she ran away, but hell, if the cops thought that, her old man would be in jail by now.”
“I heard she ran off with an older guy—a college guy,” Brad said, and when Randy elbowed him hard, he rushed on. “Not that I believe it. No way.”
“What do you think happened to her, Dave?” Mark asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about it.” He took a big pull from the bottle, draining it, and then tossed it onto the old house’s lawn and took a few unsteady steps forward, eyeing the thing. “This place is a freakin’ eyesore.” Only it sounded like “eyeshore.”
“Sure as hell not worth the whole town fighting over, is it?” Mark asked. “Historical Society—led by Davey’s mom—trying to save it. Like it’s worth saving? I mean, look at it.”
“It’s gonna fall down on its own pretty soon,” Kevin said. “Then the town council won’t have to keep fighting to have it condemned so they can do the honors.”
“It’s all my mom ever talks about,” David said. “I’m sick as hell of hearing about it.”
“We all are.” Brad marched a few steps nearer. Then he picked up the empty wine bottle and turned it in his hand. “I think we should do something about it.”
David frowned. “Like what?”
Brad met his eyes and smiled. “All we need is this bottle, a rag and some kerosene.”
“And a lighter,” Mark said, his face splitting in a broad smile.
“There’s kerosene at my house,” Randy put in. It was one of the few times he’d spoken all night. “It’s only around the corner. I can go get it and be back in five minutes.”
“Yeah. Yeah, let’s do this. Let’s torch this freaking old hulk and get it over with,” Mark said, grinning from ear to ear. “Go, Randy.”
Randy took off at an unsteady trot, but after a few steps, it slowed to a walk. An uneven, swaying walk. David bit his lower lip. “I don’t know about this, guys.”
“What? Where’s the harm?” Mark looked to the left and right of the old house. “There’s not another house close enough to catch a spark or anything, right? There’s no one around. Shit, David, I’d think you would want to do this more than anyone. It would at least stop your mother from running around town like some kind of televangelist, trying to convert everybody to her way of thinking.”
“That really must be embarrassing.” Kevin looked at Dave as if he felt sorry for him. “Shit, just last week she was standing in front of the town courthouse with a bullhorn. A bullhorn, for crying out loud.”
David cringed inwardly. It was embarrassing. His mom and a handful of local housewives had latched on to this cause as if it were a shot at world peace or something. And she was so involved with it, she didn’t even care that his heart was broken, or that the girl he’d let himself fall for was missing.
She didn’t have time to care.
He sat down in the grass. The others joined him there, one by one. They all sat in a row, in the dead of night, staring at the crooked, falling down nightmare of a house.
“Little kids are scared to walk by this place,” Brad said. “We’d be doing this whole town a favor.”
David sighed, and they sat there a while longer, all of them adding their arguments as to why this would be a good idea, when the truth was that it would just be a good way to vent their frustration. And fun, to boot.
Randy came staggering back with a small kerosene can, and without waiting for anyone to say anything, he filled the empty wine bottle. Then he took a red bandanna from his back pocket, twisted it up and stuffed it into the bottle.
He held it up, and the others all rose from the ground, one by one.
“Who’s got a lighter?” he asked.
“Here.” Mark dug in his jeans pocket and pulled out a little green disposable job. He handed it to Randy.
Randy shook his head. “No way, I’m not throwing it. I got the kero. One of you guys has to toss this baby in.”
“Which one?”
Brad said, “Let’s draw for it.” He reached for the backpack he’d used to carry the stolen wine. David had assumed it was empty, but Brad pulled a deck of playing cards from a zipped pocket.
“Jeez, you got a kitchen sink in there, too?” David asked. He was feeling nervous as hell and he didn’t know why.
Brad shrugged. “I snagged the backpack from my brother’s Jeep, wine and all. He must’ve stuck the cards in there. Anyway, who cares?” He took the cards from their box, shuffled them a few times. As he did, one fell from the deck and landed, face up, on the sidewalk.
Ace of spades.
David felt a chill go up his spine.
“Low card throws the bottle,” Brad said. “Draw.” He fanned the cards, facedown, and held them out.
Each of the others drew a card, including Brad himself, though David wondered if he’d cheated. He was too drunk to notice if he had.
Anyway, it didn’t matter. He’d drawn a two. And it didn’t get any lower than that.
As each boy flipped his card to reveal it, he hoped for a tie, but it wasn’t to be. A king, a seven, a nine and a jack surrounded him.
Randy flicked the lighter, lit the rag and handed him the bottle. “Throw it.”
David closed his hand around the cool bottle, smelled the kerosene, thought about everyone having a blast tonight at the Valentine’s Day Ball, where he’d expected to be. He and his four friends, as well. Tonight was supposed to be a big deal. They were
not supposed to be standing outside in the freezing cold of a Maine February night, shivering and drinking sour, cheap wine while their hearts bled out.
It wasn’t fair.
A sudden rush of anger surged up, and he let it move him. He drew back, took aim and hurled the bottle with all his might.
It sailed right through an already broken window and landed inside. And almost as one, the five boys ran away from the house—but only a few steps away. They stopped and turned, looking back, waiting, but seeing no results.
Five full minutes they waited there, staring at that dark window. But nothing. “Damn,” Randy said. “It must have gone out.”
“No, wait!” Mark pointed. “Look!”
There was light, dancing and flickering light. It grew bigger fast, though, and soon flames were shooting up. The old place was like tinder, dry and dead inside, and the fire quickly raged, showing its face in every window they could see.
“How the hell did it spread so fast?” David muttered.
“Come on. Someone’s gonna see it and call it in any second now, if they haven’t already. We’ve gotta get out of here,” Mark said, tugging on his arm.
But David couldn’t take his eyes from the flames.
Kevin punched him in the shoulder, hard. “Come on, David.”
“Yeah,” David said. “All right.” And turning, he joined the others as they ran. And ran. And within a few yards, he felt as if he were being pursued, and he ran even faster as panic nipped an icy path up his spine.
They didn’t stop until they were outside Randy’s house again, the only house where no parents were at home that night, and they crowded inside, closed the door and stood there, looking at each other.
David heard sirens and swore under his breath. “That was the stupidest thing we’ve ever done.”
“Only if we get caught,” Mark said. “Randy, we need to wash up, get the wine smell off our breath.”
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