After The I Do

by Autumn Breeze

  “Oh no,” Everett whispers, his eyes dropping to the tight grasp he has on me. “Thanos . . . I . . . I—” he stutters. I shake my head, letting his wrist go to push some of his hair back.

  “You didn’t know and neither did I. We will talk about it later but for now, I’m going to need you to help me to the gazebo. And I might not be conscious when you do it.” Everett whimpers, tears welling in his eyes.

  My jaw clenches as I tilt my head back toward the sun for a moment. I know I am asking a lot of him but the small tear in my flesh is aching. It’s as if a million fire ants are burrowing under the skin.

  The pain of it radiates toward my fingers, making them tingle as my shoulder throbs. I can’t imagine how much worse the pain is going to be when Everett’s palm pulls off more of my flesh. Painful enough to make me pass out if the stories I’ve heard all my life are true.

  “I don’t think I can,” Everett mutters.

  “How about we carefully walk to the gazebo together? Once there, you’ll be able to get Ben without worrying about me.” Everett wets his lips and glances toward the structure that was originally our destination before nodding.

  I give him another smile, grasp his wrist again and we slowly begin to shuffle toward it. The walk only takes a couple of minutes but it feels like a lifetime. All the symptoms I didn’t feel before hit me like a brick to the face. I am exhausted.

  “I’m so sorry, Thanos,” Everett whimpers, kneeling in front of me as I sit in a wicker chair. His hand is still tight around my wrist. Leaning in, I press a kiss to his forehead and he sniffs, swallowing a half-born sob before I pull back so I can look down at him.

  “Get Ben; quickly любимый.” Everett closes his eyes and I close mine as well. “One . . . Tw—” A half scream bubbles in my throat but is cut off as I choke in agony. Waves of pain roll up my arm and seem to crash into my soul. Warm liquid tickles my palm and I smell my own blood in the air like a sick perfume. Everett scrambles to his feet and I sway in my seat.

  “Thanos.” Everett reaches for me. I shake my head.

  “Go,” I wheeze. My head is splitting in two. The world seems to dance as Everett knocks into a chair when he swings toward the entrance. Catching himself on the table, he tosses his body over the top. Before he hits the ground, he’s transformed into a pretty brown wolf with two heads and a couple extra limbs.

  White lights dance before me, shimmering like fireflies in the twilight hours. Midnight is closing in as darkness creeps closer. I blink, attempting to beat it back but the world storms around me. The ground rises up to meet me and I groan as a fresh wave of pain engulfs me.

  Sliding one hand under my body, I close my eyes for just a second. Everything goes utterly silent. Something cold encases me. I sigh, sinking deeper into the icy relief before opening my eyes and frowning.

  Submerged to my neck in my bathtub, ice cubes float all around me.

  “Benjamin said, and I quote, ‘If he moves, call his mother,’ and then your father,” Everett says from beside me while holding a phone up, assuring me he does in fact have the power to call my mother or father if I dare move. I groan, letting my head fall back against the tub.

  “Haven’t you done enough damage for one day?” I ask.

  Everett sighs. “I’m sorry.” He has nothing to be sorry for.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, reaching out and finding his hand.

  “I didn’t do anything,” he mutters. I lace our fingers together.

  “Nothing wrong at the very least,” I assure him.

  He smiles and I close my eyes, sinking back into the water.

  19

  After Wyatt’s funeral, Everett invites the family back to the estate for dinner. It ends on a pleasant note. Lilith and Sophia drag Mason, Everett and Mother off to inspect the studio they helped buy supplies for the Thursday before last. Father and I choose not to go along knowing we would be more in the way than anything.

  Instead, we retire to my office. The spacious room has been overtaken by art supplies despite the fact Everett has a place to store his things.

  I don’t mind that one of my desk drawers has been commandeered for a selection of pencils, sketchbooks, and some other odds and ends. The paint brushes drying on a table that is pushed against the window so that they get maximum sunlight don’t bother me.

  I find it . . . endearing that Everett has moved into my space in an effort to be closer after just forty-two days of marriage. There is something comforting about knowing he is content to just exist in the same space as me on quiet days.

  A smile pulls at my lips as I shuffle papers on my desk. Across the room, sitting in one of my high-back chairs, my father shifts. Glancing up, I inspect him. He’s been silently watching me work for the last twenty minutes.

  Our roles are reversed now but it reminds me of when I was a child and watched him work for hours, determined to learn everything he had to teach. There are no more lessons to learn these days but I still enjoy the company he offers. A quiet strength emits from him that has a calming aura I have been fond of since I was a boy.

  “If you’re waiting for me to ask why you bullied my husband into hosting dinner, it’s going to be a long wait,” I tell Father as I finish with my papers. He laughs softly, sitting forward in his chair as I sit back in mine.

  “Come now, I didn’t bully the boy.” My father is never a bully but the man can be dangerously persuasive, which in my experience can be the same thing under the right circumstances. He often knows how to find the right ones.

  Growing up, I learned how hard it was to say no to him even when I wanted to. Something about the words he uses and the way he weaves them traps or tricks you into doing exactly as he desires. It is a power without measure.

  I have no doubt, Everett was steamrolled. In time, maybe he'll grow immune as I have.

  “But dinner was your idea,” I confidently reply.

  “I thought you weren’t going to ask,” Father retorts, his lips twitching as his bright eyes scan my features. I swallow my smile before it can even touch my lips. These word games have always been a favorite of mine. He used to win all the time but as I have grown older, I have made a better opponent.

  Is Father looking for a game of wit . . . or more? What exactly is this dinner about? I don’t believe it is about spending time together as a family. If he wanted to simply spend time together, he would have called Everett and me to the city.

  Whatever his desires, I know I will find out what it is simply by being patient.

  “It wasn’t a question, Father.” Deflating, the old man flops back in the chair and goes silent.

  My phone vibrates and I lift it from the desk to see a text from Everett that reads, “Mason, Lilith and Sophia want to go swimming. Do you mind if we go to the creek?”

  Shaking my head, my fingers move over the keys as I reply, “You don’t have to ask to enjoy your own home. Father and I will join everyone later.”

  I set my phone down again. Father has moved to one of my windows. His back is to me as he looks out over the dark grounds. “I’ve gotten old, Thanos,” he breaks the silence, his voice carrying to me so low I am not sure I hear him. “I’ve gotten tired.”

  My brows pull down as I stand. Father isn’t as young as he once was. It is true, he has aged. Lately, I’ve been noticing that age upon his face and in his voice when he speaks a lot more but I wouldn’t consider him old so much as middle-aged. Nearly half of his life has been lived. There are still plenty of good years left in him.

  “Ninety-Two is hardly old, Father,” I assure the aging man as I move toward the whisky and glass tumblers I keep on a shelf.

  “I was thirty-five when your grandfather died,” he starts, turning to face me as I pull the cork on the whiskey container.

  My grandfather had children late and died old. Before he passed, he made sure his only daughter was married and his family was properly looked over.

  Father continued, “He never properly got to enjoy his child
ren or his marriage. I’d like to not make the same mistakes as my predecessor.”

  Glancing up from filling two glasses, I inspect my father closely. “You’ve never beat around the bush before. I’ve always done as you needed, as you well know. What do you require now?”

  “Your succession.” I freeze with my glass halfway to my lips. “You are old enough, wise enough now. I’ve seen you settled. Now, I want to see you lead.” I shake my head as he reaches out, taking the glass that never makes it to my mouth from my fingers despite the fact that his is sitting on the shelf.

  “Father—”

  “I know you thought you would be older,” he interrupts before I can protest. “I had hoped so as well, son, but you are ready; you are better suited to lead in this new age of peace.” He shakes his head, sitting down in the chair he vacated. I notice once more just how very tired he appears.

  My heart skips a beat. “Forgive the expression but I am an old dog,” he says. “The new tricks we must learn in order to survive aren’t easy for me, not as they are for you.”

  Reaching for the other whisky glass, my fingers curl around it before I draw it to my mouth. The amber liquid burns on its way down but the fire steadies me. My father, head of our family, is asking me to take his place. I knew it would come one day but I thought I would be older, much older. At thirty, I handle many of our affairs but am I really ready to lead our family, to be the voice for all Moroii in our clan?

  “Can I think about this?” I ask.

  Father’s lips twitch as he sets his nearly empty glass on the cream fabric arm of the chair.

  “Your mother said you would want time,” he replies.

  Mother is ninety years old and as wise as the man she married.

  “She isn’t wrong. I’m newly married. It is hard enough to get to know my husband now. If I am head of this family, it will be impossible. I may never know him as I wish if I agree.”

  That seems like a crime, a disservice to Everett. We deserve the time to properly get to know each other, to settle more fully into our roles as husbands. Forty-two days isn’t enough time to weave two lives together despite how close we have grown.

  “How much time do you need?” Father asks and I move to my seat.

  “Six months,” I tell him as I sit down.

  “And then you will take your place as family head?” he inquires, shifting in his seat.

  No is on the tip of my tongue. If I refuse him, he can’t force the role onto me. Being head of our clan is what I have been groomed for my whole life. It is my duty, my responsibility, my privilege as my father and mother’s eldest son. If I said no, I would be shaming all three of us.

  A sigh parts my lips. “Yes.”

  Father grins, happy to have my agreement. “Is it possible to bargain for three months?”

  I chuckle softly, shaking my head negatively. “No. I require six months with my husband.”

  Six months to do whatever is necessary to create a real marriage. Not one of convenience or business but one like my parents share—a marriage of love and happiness.

  “In six months, you will succeed me then.” Father stands. I recline back in my chair as he moves toward one of the new paintings hanging on my wall.

  “I’d like to keep this between us,” I tell Father as he peers at the picture.

  Everett is laid out as a wolf, relaxing in the sun. I am just a few feet away, tucked under the shade of a tree with a book in my lap. I don’t remember the book I was reading but I remember when I finished, Everett climbed into my lap and helped me disrobe before doing the same thing. We missed dinner that day but it had been worth it.

  “Lotte already knows why we are here.”

  I roll my eyes. Of course, Mother knows. “Us and Mother, in that case.”

  Father turns to look at me. “And Everett? You do plan to tell him, correct?”

  Being head of our family is something he would need to be told about before it happened. My role will change but so will his.

  “When the moment is right, I will tell Everett,” I agree.

  When will the moment be right? At what point do I sit my new husband down and explain I am going to become head of my clan much sooner than I believed?

  How will he take the news?

  When it gets back to his former pack, because it will, how will they take the news?

  I can’t imagine Oliver will be happy with me taking my father’s place.

  “Good,” Father nods sharply. “I like the boy. He appears meek but there is a quiet strength in him. I saw that before marriage became a viable option to achieve peace.” My brows pull together as I gaze at the aging man. He moves toward the window and I frown.

  “Did you know I would volunteer for Sophia?” I ask.

  Was he aware that if he put her on the chopping block, I would take her place?

  “I know you love your sister, that you will go to extraordinary lengths to protect her.” Setting my glass down, I press my fingers into my temples. I have no words for this man, for the schemes he concocts somedays.

  “You are essentially admitting to tricking me into this marriage.” I was successfully manipulated into marrying Everett. I am not upset but I do wish my father wasn’t still playing sleight of hand with me. He could have spoken to me about marriage. Of course, I knew myself well enough to know I would have told him to go to hell—at first, at least.

  “If I demanded you marry, you would have refused. It needed to be your idea.” And so it was.

  He made to sacrifice Sophia and I behaved as if I was her knight in shining armor, just as Father knew I would. His goal had been achieved all along. I’m not as immune to his games as I like to believe, apparently. He is still the master and I but a child.

  “Does Mother know?” I ask and he turns to face me. Lifting the glass in his hand, he takes a slow sip as he peers into what seems to be my soul. His stare is uncomfortable but I refuse to lower my gaze or cower from him as if I truly am I child.

  “Your mother is my partner in all things,” Father finally speaks and I shake my head.

  She knew. She agreed to play his game.

  What if I didn’t volunteer? Did any of them ever think about the fact Sophia could have really ended up married to Everett? Both of them would have been miserable and hated one another. I couldn’t think of a more atrocious life sentence for either. Or a better way to insure an unending war.

  “Let’s join the others,” I reply, draining my glass, refusing to continue this conversation. Father finishes his own and rises to his feet. Grabbing my phone off the desk, I look down to see another text from Everett. “They’re at the creek.”

  20

  Mason’s shoulders shake with merriment as Everett climbs from the creek dripping wet. He isn’t the only one laughing at my husband's expense. Lilith and Sophia giggle into their hands as my parents both attempt to swallow smiles. A frown pulls down Everett’s brows and makes him look far more severe than I know him to be. I can’t help the chuckle that slips past my lips now that he has made it safely to shore.

  “You could have told me,” Everett says; his voice seeps irritation which only causes Mason to chuckle more. I shake my head at my little brother. He is a trouble maker and now that Everett is officially considered family, he’ll have to suffer through some pretty awful pranks.

  “And miss the utter horror on your face when you realized—not a chance.” The second to youngest Right child has never missed a chance to be a horrible person. Why we let him get away with his behavior, I’ll never know. Or maybe I already know. Most of the time, it is entertaining. He means no real harm and none has actually been caused.

  “What if I couldn’t swim? I could have drown, you know?” Everett shakes himself off before accepting the towel I hold out to him.

  Mason scoffs at the same time Sophia says, “Don’t be so over dramatic. Thanos would have come for you if that was the case. Or stopped us altogether.”

  “He almost did when the curren
t looked as if it was going to drag you,” Lilith told my husband, effectively throwing me under the bus. Everett looks toward me and I shrug softly. If he needed my assistance, I wouldn’t have hesitated to give it. That shouldn’t surprise him.

  Everett walks closer, reaching out and laying the tips of his fingers against the back of my hand. I turn until my palm presses against his. “You still need to take it easy. Ben said—”

  “I’m fine, любимый,” I interrupt before he can announce to my family exactly what Benjamin said. None of them know about the injury I sustained eleven days ago and I would prefer to keep it that way simply because the last thing I desire is them panicking over me.

  “Why wouldn’t you be?” my mother asks, her tone suspicious as her calculating eyes begin to inspect me for the slightest flaw.

  Pressing my lips together, I look to Everett just as he mouths the word, ‘Sorry.’

  “What happened?” Mason asks and I want to groan. They are going to pick and harass until every detail is out in the open, available for them to dissect. The last thing I want to do is sustain a discussion about how foolish I am or how much danger I was in. I don’t require a lecture.

  “Nothing major,” I answer vaguely. That only causes my mother’s frown to deepen. Her eyes narrow and my gaze flickers to my father. He lifts an eyebrow, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips in a sure indication that soon he will be questioning me as well.

  “So, share with the family,” Lilith reasons. I sigh. These people are impossible. Could I get any privacy? Of course, I know the answer to that.

  “I suffered a minor case of sun poisoning,” I announce to a collective chorus of horrified gasps.

  They close in around me, reaching out to touch me as if suddenly I am no longer real. Before Everett can slip out of the family group, I draw him tightly against my side. This is his fault so he can suffer through their unnecessary attention with me. Maybe he’ll learn the value of keeping secrets if he has to endure my mother’s fawning.