“I broke the damned curse,” I said, hugging Raphael.
“But… but ye have destroyed the stone! Ye’ve destroyed the happiness of the lairds!”
“You don’t deserve happiness, you murdering, adulterous blackguard!” Lily growled as she dusted herself off. She turned to face us, giving a regal nod of her head. “You’ve done as I asked; you’ve destroyed the stone. I will be at peace now.”
“I hate to say this, but that wasn’t why I destroyed it,” I said as Raphael helped me up. “You okay, sweetie?”
“Yes, thanks to you.” He kissed me, his eyes hot with love and desire.
“Ye broke my stone!” Sir Alec wailed, dropping to his knees before the pile of rubble. “Ye’ve ruined my chance of happiness!”
“Pfft,” I said. “I don’t know why someone didn’t think of destroying the stone earlier to break the were-kitty curse, but I assume it’s because you’ve had it drummed into your heads that no one must go near it or touch it in order to be happy. Well, I’ve always been a firm believer in people making their own destinies, and their own happiness. You and Grizel seem to be pretty happy as you are, and nothing can change that.”
“She’s right, love,” Grizel said, putting a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “We’re still here, and we still have each other. What more could make us happy?”
“Oh, for mercy’s sake,” Lily said, rolling her eyes as she picked her way across the dirt- and rock-strewn floor. “Now that I have been avenged, I can move on and find Roddy. I have a few questions to put to him about what happened to my jewels…”
Lily’s form shimmered as it disappeared into the wall.
“Alec?” Grizel asked, prodding him.
“Eh? Oh, aye, I suppose ye’re right,” he said, sighing as he brushed dust from his hands and stood up. “But I still think it’s a tragedy the stone is gone.”
“Cheer up,” I said, wrapping my arms around Raphael’s waist and biting his chin. “You still have the castle stone, right? One out of three isn’t too bad.”
“Aye, I suppose. Unless ye’ll be wantin’ to see that too,” he said with a barbed look.
“I swear I’ll keep Joy away from any other stones,” Raphael promised.
Alec grunted acknowledgment.
Grizel smiled winsomely at her husband. “Come, love. We’ll go back to the stable yard, and ye can be the stable lad, and I’ll be the goose girl. Ye know how ye love to play stable lad.”
A lascivious light dawned in Sir Alec’s eyes as he turned away from the stone. “Would ye be the dairy maid instead of the goose girl?”
“Perhaps,” Grizel said with a coy arch to her brows, and an encouraging twitch of her skirt.
“Ah, lass, ye do know how to stoke my fire,” Sir Alec said, lunging for her. She squealed and took off down the hallway.
Sir Alec started after her, pausing to look back at us. “What are ye waitin’ for, lad? It’s yer weddin’ night, and ye’re back to yer manly form. Go pleasure yer wife!”
“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all night,” Raphael said, scooping me up in his arms and carrying me up the stone staircase.
“I agree completely,” I said, kissing his jawline. “And since I’m so accommodating, would you like to get the ‘I told you so’ out of the way now, or later?”
“I’d like to forget the whole blasted evening,” he growled, pushing open the door to our suite.
“I’m sure you would, but I have to say—you made a very sexy lion.”
“That’s all over with now. It won’t happen again,” he said, setting me on my feet as he locked the door.
“I wonder…” I nibbled my lip as I went into the bedroom.
“You wonder what? How long it will take me to have you screaming with ecstasy?”
“No, I know that’s a given,” I said as he followed me into the room. Before I could say anything else, his clothes were off and he was stalking toward me, a hungry, predatory look in his eyes that left me shivering with delight. “I was going to say I wonder if you coming to Fyfe brought forth previously hidden therianthrope tendencies, but I think I have my answer.”
“I am not an animal,” he growled, the sound starting deep in his chest, rolling outward with a rumble that sounded remarkably like a lion’s.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, giggling when he pounced on me, sending us both falling back onto the bed. “I think I might like having the beast within you released.”
He growled again, nibbling my neck as he peeled off my shirt.
“What a honeymoon this is going to be,” I sighed happily. “I can’t wait to see what happens at the end of the week.”
“End of the week?” Raphael asked, removing my bra. His eyes lit as he swooped down to nibble various and sundry exposed parts. “What happens at the end of the week?”
“Full moon, sweetie. Full moon!”
Two years after she started writing, Katie MacAlister sold the first of more than thirty books. Her novels have been translated into numerous languages, been recorded as audiobooks, received several awards, and placed on the New York Times, USA Today, and Publishers Weekly bestseller lists. Katie lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and dogs, and can often be found lurking around online. You can visit her at www.katiemacalister.com.
HALF OF BEING MARRIED
Lilith Saintcrow
When a werewolf marries a vampire hunter, the honeymoon can be a killer…
THE WORST MOMENT OF MY LIFE WAS SEEING Kat go over backward, vanishing under the first bloodsucker’s bulk. I actually half shifted—claws springing free and fur rippling down my limbs with a familiar itch—and flung myself at the sucker, ignoring the second one I’d been feinting with. Pain bloomed as it clipped me on the side, my ribs scraped and a hot spatter of blood splashed moonlit gravel. I crashed into the thing with a sound like locomotives colliding.
I went down hard, little pieces of rock burning up my back where Kat’s fingers had recently brushed. Kat, dear Sun, Kat—
The bloodsucker exhaled foulness, its twisted-root face compressing as it champed, yellow foam splattering. Its eyes burned violet. It had probably been female while human, because it went for my chest instead of my throat. The mistake cost it its life.
If those sucking machines can be said to have a life, instead of a twilight hell.
Instinct took over and I tore the thing open, amber claws puncturing unhallowed skin. We’ve been hunting the bloodsuckers for a long time, and the Sun has blessed us with pieces of Herself in our claws and teeth.
We used to die like flies up against them.
Nowadays, they’re still hard to kill. But we’ve got advantages, and we’re trained. Even a pup knows how to take them out—though getting into a pitched battle on the shoulder of a country road in Virginia is not my preferred method. I’m more of an urban hunter.
The bloodsucker stiffened, screaming without sound because my claws were buried in its chest. A gout of foul-smelling blackness poured from its open mouth instead, slicking my face and getting in my nose. It stank to high heaven.
The point of a birch stake protruded from its chest, dripping. Stinking ash spread as the blessed wood of a Sun-loving tree poisoned the sucker’s metabolism. They run fast and hot, and once they’re poisoned, it takes very little for it to spread. Core damage to their circulatory systems causes critical hemorrhage.
The bloodsucker slumped, ash threading through its flesh. The blood turned to grit, I sneezed twice, and Kat’s face, stained and grimy, rose like the Sun itself over the sucker’s shoulder. She blinked furiously, her blue eyes red-rimmed, and my heart exploded in my chest.
I tried to speak, but the only thing that came out was a sharp yipping sound. When we change even halfway, our mouths aren’t meant for speaking.
Kat stared at me, jaw set and eyes flashing through tears of irritation from the dust. It gets on you and just keeps itching as it crumbles finer and finer, cells imploding and tearing themselves apart. H
er hair was full of dirt, twigs, and gravel, and she held the stake loosely, professionally, but her other hand was a white-knuckled fist.
The road unreeled behind her, a single lane of pavement under silver wash from the almost-full May moon. Tree branches whispered and chuckled as the breeze rolled up from the creek. The bed-and-breakfast was a quarter of a mile away down a long gravel driveway, the creek running behind it in a ribbon of coolness. Water sounded really good right about now.
A prickling itch receded toward my fingers and toes as the change melted away. My jaw cracked, working, and I spoke as soon as I could. “Kat—”
“What the hell?” She was spitting mad, her chin up and her clothes torn all to ribbons. The curve of one pale breast showed through a rip in her shirt, and she was bleeding. “You…” For once, Katrina Black, nee Jasperson, ran out of words.
I never thought I’d live to see that.
I pointed at the stake. “What the hell’s that?” A faint jasmine-loaded breeze brushed the bushes. Out here in the sticks, the summer nights are warm and redolent before morning fog rises, and the bed-and-breakfast had whole trellises full of fragrance that had escaped to grow wild.
It was beautiful for honeymoons, but I just wanted to sneeze again. A touch of growl laced itself through my voice, and my face itched like hell. I needed a shower.
She lifted the stake and glanced at it, as if reminding herself what it was. “This is a stake,” she said finally, in her special tone of withering disdain reserved for idiots. “I’ve got lots of spares in case one breaks. You just turned into the Hulk in a fur rug. What the hell?”
“I, um…” Well, great. There’s never a good time for this. “Stakes? I suppose you’ve got holy water and garlic too. No wonder my back went out carrying your luggage.” And no wonder you’re sneaking around at night. Hell of a reason for a midnight ramble, Kat.
That did the trick. She took a deep breath, that maddening slope of breast peering at me, and I checked her for more bleeding. A thin trickle from her temple, another rivulet from her nose, and her shirt was sopping wet with copper-smelling blood on one side. Very low, under the floating ribs on her right.
Merciful Sun, I don’t like the look of that.
Then she blew.
“Mitchell Black, what’s the goddamn idea? Why didn’t you tell me you were a werewolf?”
I winced. “Your pop culture is showing, sweetpea. I’m a Sunrunner.” Not a goddamn “werewolf.” “You never told me you were a vampire hunter. And what was I supposed to do, just lay in bed while you snuck out? On our honeymoon, I might add.”
Good thing I followed you, eh? But I knew better than to tack that on.
She put her hands to her hips, drawing herself up, chin rising yet more. She looked dirty, beaten up, and completely kissable. The nostrils of her cute little patrician nose flared and her eyes went incandescent.
I get weak in the knees when she does that. Her lips thinned before she spoke, and the urge to kiss her got overwhelming.
“I’m a Knight of the Argentum Astrum, thank you very much, and you are in serious trouble. Why the hell didn’t you tell—ulp!”
I took two steps and grabbed her. It wasn’t very graceful, but I wanted to be sure she was all right. Plus she’s just sexy as hell. She tasted like adrenaline, apples, and copper blood, and my fingers explored her side while I kissed her, my free hand cupping her nape. The wound was ragged but not deep.
She shoved me away, and I let her.
“You know, before I marry a guy, I like to know little things like him turning hairy and carnivorous on the full moon.” She hadn’t lost track. Dammit.
“I’d kind of like to know if my wife-to-be’s a Silver Star, too. Night classes, huh?”
“I do have night classes, you jackass.” The silver crucifix winked at her throat. “Hunting sanguinant is all very well, but the pay isn’t shit. I’m filing for divorce.”
I winced. “Any chance we can solve this in bed?”
“You’re a goddamn werewolf, Mr. Black.” She looked magnificent, all tangled and flushed and still breathing heavily. “That qualifies as need-to-know information before we tie the knot, in my book!”
“So does a case of stakes and a working knowledge of dowsing to find suckers.” I folded my arms, grit working its way into my skin. I get it. We’re not going to talk about why you snuck out on a pretty night like this to go looking for suckers. Sure thing, Kat.
Moonlight drenched the small clearing and the wind shifted. I heard the car before she did and leapt, knocking her down as headlights swept the curve of the road. The vehicle—sounded like a Ford—downshifted, taking the hill at an even fifty. I heard laughter and smelled exhaust. They were probably heading up to Lover’s Leap, near where we’d hiked around yesterday after breakfast to look out over the juicy green valley.
My ears told me we were safe from wandering suckers for the moment, at least, but I didn’t want any civilians seeing either of us.
That would only lead to trouble, and I’d had enough trouble tonight to last me awhile.
She waited until the roar of the engine faded into the distance before squirming out from under me. I could have lain there all night. But it was gravel, and she was already torn up.
Hope I didn’t hurt you even more, sweetpea. “Did he get you? On the side?”
“I’m fine.” As stubborn as she ever was after falling down that flight of stairs. She’d sprained an ankle on that one, and refused point-blank to go to the doctor. “It won’t even scar if I treat it soon. Get off me.”
I made it to my feet a little less gracefully than she did. They don’t tell you how sore hunting suckers makes you. Even if a Sunrunner has a higher rate of tissue regeneration.
She checked the two smears of fine ash left over from the two bloodsuckers—probably only unhallowed dead, opportunistic things more used to preying on livestock than humans—and dropped to one knee. Her hair, pulled back in a loose knot, fell in strands and straggles. Her nape gleamed with sweat. Her free hand came out of her jacket pocket and she scattered holy water over the writhing smears. “ O quam misericors Deus est,” she murmured.
O, how merciful God is. The Argentum were optimists. It was, after all, why they were in this line of work. Sunrunners are just born to it.
“I love it when you get all Catholic.” I hunched my shoulders, tested the wind. My ears weren’t tingling, a good sign. No suckers within smelling distance. I relaxed the rest of the way. “I’m itching all over. Let’s go, I’ll wash your back.” And take a look at that wound. That’s not a good place to get hit. Merciful Sun. She could’ve been really hurt.
“You are so sleeping in the doghouse, Fido.” She hauled herself up with a sigh worthy of my old granny.
Granny would have approved of my Kat. “You don’t mean that, sweetpea.”
“Bullshit I don’t. Come on, I dropped my other stake. Help me find it.”
All in all, she took the news that I can change into a timber wolf pretty well. Granny would definitely have approved.
TWO MORNINGS LATER I WOKE UP WITH AN oof! as Kat landed on me. Hot sun poured through the curtains and turned her hair into gold as it fell over her shoulders. The room was done in antebellum shabby-chic, with lots of froufrous and furbelows. The bed even had mosquito netting, as if any mosquito would have dared to intrude where Miz Evans of the Evans Bed ‘n’ Breakfast ran her shipshape little rock of down-home graciousness and army-neat order.
The breakfasts were terrific, and Kat loved all the frilly girly stuff. She’d just about gone wild over the gardens, tea cozies, and the way the bed tried to swallow us both whole. The stackable washer and dryer down the hall still held our stinking, torn clothes, soaking out the last bit of bloodsucker smell. We’d washed them four times already.
This morning, though, she bounced on me like a terrier. “Get up, lazybones. Time to read the paper.”
I wanted to bury my face in the pillow, but she was just too pretty. Kat’s sm
all—only about five-four—but every inch of her is packed with dynamite. She looks like a little blonde ballerina princess, helped along by the hour she spends in dance class pretty much every day, rain or shine. I don’t see where she gets the energy, between night classes, day work in the office, and hunting bloodsuckers. She has these big blue eyes and this sharp aristocratic nose, and her mouth is just made for kissing.
So I pulled her down, and I did.
It took a long time before I was close to done, and she shook herself free before I was even halfway there. “Try to keep your mind on business. I’m still mad at you, you know.”
“Christ, my heart can’t take that.” I gave her my best aw shucks, ma’am grin. It usually works better when I’m not unshaven and bruised—I get my five o’clock shadow before noon. Just one of the perks of being a Sunrunner. “Don’t be mad.” Especially since you didn’t tell me you were an Argentum.
I guess being married involves holding your tongue a lot. No wonder most men think it’s so rough.
The smile that spread over her face was worth keeping my big mouth shut. That’s my Kat, all fire one minute and softness the next. “I’m not mad, I guess.” She was only in a tank top and panties, both candy-cotton pink. Matching the room.
The woman just has no mercy.
“I’m not a field agent, anyway. I’m an intelligence analyst, I track migrations and collate reports. That was my first time staking.”
Are you trying to kill me? “Your first time?”
“Well, I did okay.” She pushed her hair back. Her knees were on either side of my hips, and her weight on me was incredibly distracting. “Now it’s time for you to get up and read the paper. Breakfast’s still warm. You want coffee, don’t you?”
“Coffee can wait.” I got both hands on her shoulders and brought her mouth back down to mine, and things were heading in a very satisfactory direction before she broke away again. “Goddammit, woman. You’re going to kill me.”
“Maybe,” she agreed cheerfully. “But not until after you read the paper.”
My Big Fat Supernatural Honeymoon Page 26