by Jody Morse
As much as she hated to being doing it, Samara was beginning to doubt everything. She wondered if she was stupid to be going through with this; it’s not like she needed to do this . . . not yet, at least. Like Marnie said, she was only sixteen years old. Why rush this? All she had to do was find Luke and tell him she wanted to postpone the wedding; that would give her some time to think about what she really wanted.
Her head obviously wasn’t clear enough for her to be getting married yet. As positive as she was that she was in love with Luke, there was no denying that she felt something for Declan, too. She had never believed that it was possible to love more than one person at the same time, but she was beginning to believe that maybe it was possible. She wasn’t sure if there was any other way to describe the way she felt about both of them.
Samara sighed. There was no way she could sort through this on her own. She had to get advice from someone else.
As the pre-ceremony music began to play from the outdoor speakers, Samara glanced around the room. It took her a few minutes, but she found the blonde hair that was twisted into a bun with flower hair-clips laced strategically throughout it. Emma.
Samara hurried over to her and grabbed her elbow. “I need your advice,” she hissed into Emma’s ear. “It’s important.”
“I already have the answer,” Emma replied, glancing over her shoulder with a knowing look in her eyes.
“You do?” Samara questioned nervously. She felt her heart beat rapidly against her chest. Was she really so transparent that her best friend could figure her out that easily? Or was there a possibility that she’d accidentally said something aloud . . . or even worse, through mind-speak, allowing all of her pack members to know what she was thinking?
Did Luke already know the truth about how she felt?
Emma rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I mean, the answer’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?”
“It is?” Samara gulped.
“Umm, yeah! Of course you shouldn’t get pregnant on the honeymoon,” Emma replied, matter-of-factly. “You might be getting married, Sam, but you’re only sixteen!”
Samara chuckled nervously. If only her decision were as simple as that.
“Places! Places, everyone!” Silas called from the doorway. “The bridesmaids will be walking out in just a few minutes. Now, where’s my gorgeous bride?”
“She’s back here,” Emma said, pointing to the corner that Samara was huddling in. Once he came over to them, Emma told Silas, “You should have your own wedding show, by the way. You should just like David Tutera.”
Silas grinned. “Why, thank you! He is one of my biggest idols, after all.” He turned to Samara. “Are you ready, Sam?”
“I . . . I guess,” Samara mumbled. How could she tell Silas the truth—that she wasn’t sure if she wanted to walk down that aisle right now because her feelings were all jumbled and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to marry Luke . . . or if she wanted to give Declan a chance?
“Are you feeling nervous?” Silas asked, a concerned look in his brown eyes.
Samara nodded. “Beyond belief.” If only Silas knew the reason went far beyond wedding day jitters. She was having cold feet not because she worried that she didn’t love Luke, but because she didn’t know who she loved the most. And that was a major problem to be having at that very moment.
“Don’t worry, Sam. Getting nervous on your wedding day is totally normal! Every bride goes through it. I’m sure once Kyle and I get married one day, I’ll be a nervous wreck!” Silas blushed at the mention of his own wedding. “Luckily, you have a supportive bridal party to help get you through this hump.”
Samara wished that Silas and Kyle were the ones who were getting married today. At least they were positive about what their feelings were for each other. At least one of them didn’t wonder if they were more in love with the guy who they were supposed to be marrying or the guy who they could be marrying instead, if they really wanted to. It was all so confusing.
“Silas, I need to tell you—” Samara started to say, knowing that she had to tell him that the wedding wasn’t going to happen, after all. It was going to be hard to break the news to him because he had put so much time and effort into planning the wedding, but it was going to be much easier to tell him than Luke.
“Just a minute, Sam,” Silas interrupted her, as Kyana entered the room wearing the same crimson bridesmaid dress at Emma. “Kyana, just the person I’ve been wanting to see. I have to let you know what the new plan is.”
“Okay, but I have to tell Sam something first,” Kyana said, holding her hand up in the air to halt him from continuing what he was going to say. “Penelope said to tell you she’s angry at you because she’s not in the bridal party.”
Samara rolled her eyes. “It’s too late to worry about that now. Besides, I haven’t known her long enough to feel right about asking her,” Samara replied, sighing. Penelope had been spending a lot of time with her brother since she’d initiated—and she’d been flirting with the other guys in the pack, too—but she hadn’t done anything yet for Samara to kick her out of the Tala. Samara was just waiting for Penelope to do something suspicious because she still had a bad feeling about her.
“Screw Penelope,” Silas said, rolling his eyes. “I can’t stand that girl. Anyway, Kyana, you’re no longer going to be walking down the aisle with Declan.”
A knot formed in the pit of Samara’s stomach at hearing Declan’s name mentioned. “She’s not?”
Silas shook his head. “No, Declan called me about ten minutes ago. He said he’s not going to be able to make it today.”
“Did he say why?” Samara questioned, but even as she said the words, she knew they seemed silly. She already knew the real reason why Declan wasn’t there; he didn’t want to be a part of her wedding day. Declan didn’t want to watch her marry Luke.
Silas shook his head. “No, he just said he wasn’t able to make it after all and to tell Luke he was sorry.”
“Just Luke? Not me?” Samara asked, feeling offended by the fact that Declan hadn’t offered his apologies to her, too. Hadn’t he agreed to be a part of the wedding in the first place because he was supposed to be there for her, and not Luke?
“No, actually he only mentioned Luke. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything negative by it, Sam.” Silas shrugged. “In any case, Kyana, you’re walking down the aisle with Chris now, which was what I wanted all along, but Emma insisted that we based it on your heights.” He rolled his eyes.
“We didn’t want Kyana to be significantly taller than Chris in heels!” Emma insisted. “No offense, Kyana, but your mate is a bit of a shorty.”
Kyana laughed. “No offense taken.”
As her friends talked, Samara couldn’t help but ignore them; she felt a nauseous feeling form in the pit of her stomach. She felt betrayed by the fact that Declan wasn’t going to be here for her today, at her wedding. If he really couldn’t make it, why hadn’t he told her last night? If he wasn’t there because he didn’t want to be, he should have given her warning.
“Declan doesn’t know anything about wedding etiquette,” Emma said in a low voice once Silas had pranced away from them. “He should know it’s rude to cancel on the day of the wedding unless you’re, like, dying or something. And considering here’s a werewolf, I’m pretty sure that isn’t the problem.”
“Well, don’t worry,” Kyana said, touching Samara’s arm gently to reassure her. “It’s his own loss. This is going to be a really fun night for all of us. We’re all going to have an awesome time at the reception. If he wants to sit out on it, it’s his own choice.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Samara shrugged and glanced at herself in one of the oval-shaped mirrors that hung from the wall. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders in long curls, beneath the lacy veil Emma and Silas had chosen for her. Her smoky gray eye shadow and her eyeliner had been applied perfectly by the makeup artist, and the light shade of gloss that covered her lips made them look plumper than usual.
Behind it all, though, she could see the sadness in her own amber eyes; she only hoped that it would remain hidden from everyone else.
A realization hit her. The reason she was so upset wasn’t just because Declan had broken the promise he’d made her; it wasn’t because he was betraying her by not being there. It was because she needed to see his face in the crowd and see if there was a look of pain behind his eyes as she walked down the aisle. It would help her decide if she should say, “I do,” or if it would make her change her mind and not go through with this at all.
Seeing Declan was what she needed to make the right decision for herself.
But it didn’t really matter now because Declan wasn’t going to be there in the crowd, like she needed him to be. Now, Samara would never know how he would look at her as she marched down the aisle, or if she was making the right decision.
By not coming to her wedding, Declan had made her decision easy enough, though. She was going to marry Luke because he was out there, waiting for her, just like the loyal mate he always was. He hadn’t done anything to make her second-guess him. Changing her mind and walking away from this was only going to hurt Luke, and for what? Someone who didn’t even show up today to convince her, one last time, that she shouldn’t follow through with this because he loved her more than the guy she was supposed to marry?
Declan should have shown up today to fight for her; he should have been there to try to convince her to be with him, one last time. Samara wanted him to fight harder, but he wasn’t fighting for her at all right now.
Declan had broken his promise and, ultimately, her heart.
Samara sighed as she heard the sound of the string quartet beginning to play; her guests and Luke were all out there, waiting for her to make her grand entrance. She couldn’t let them down . . . not for someone who had let her down.
Turning to Emma, Samara said, “I’m ready to do this. I’m ready to get married.”
Chapter 21
“Samara, I promise to be supportive, faithful, and loyal. To give you my companionship and love throughout all of the changes in our lives . . . I will walk with you when life is good and when things are hard. I will enjoy my life with you and comfort you in times of sorrow. I will love and protect you through all the days of our lives.” Placing the ring on her finger, Luke said, “I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and commitment. From this day forward, I will be proud to be your husband.”
Staring into his emerald green eyes, which glittered in the sunlight, calmed her. Samara began to say her own vows, which she had rehearsed over and over again the whole week. “Luke, I promise to love you unconditionally and to cherish you during the good times, as well as the bad. I promise to laugh with you and cry with you through every storm of our life. I promise to help you fulfill all of your hopes and dreams. I promise to stand by you and with you, through all the days of our lives.” Placing his finger on his finger, she said, “I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and commitment. From this day forward, I will be proud to be your wife.”
She made sure to leave out one thing—the part of her vows she had written out at the very last minute because she knew that it wasn’t something she could promise; Samara couldn’t vow to be honest with Luke when there was a secret she would always keep. She could never tell him the truth about being mated to Declan. She might be able to one day admit the truth about Brad to him, but Declan was a part of her that she wanted to keep close to her own heart.
“And by the powers vested in me by the state of Pennsylvania, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Reverend Landry said with a wide smile on his face. “You may kiss the bride.”
Luke wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. Samara closed her eyes as their lips met, realizing what this all meant: it was a new beginning, a new chapter of her life.
So, why didn’t she feel as excited about it as she should have?
As the crowd began to applaud, Samara felt something sharp stabbing her foot. Lifting up her dress a bit so she could see if there was something biting her or cutting her skin, Samara knew right away what the pain had come from.
Staring back at her, on the top of her foot, was a new tattoo. It was of two dragons, curled up next to each other; one of the dragons was a shade of icy blue, and the other was a shade of fiery orange, yellow, and red. As soon as she saw the tattoo, Samara knew that it represented the icy hot feeling she got whenever she and Luke touched one another.
It was her mark, there on her foot, visible for everyone to see.
Then, she felt a stabbing pain on her other foot, a pain that felt identical to the pain that she felt on the first. Shifting in her shoes, she pulled back her dress and glanced at the second tattoo. It was a dove.
As Samara glanced into Luke’s eyes, which were full of passion, she could only wonder one thing: why had she gotten two marks?
*
Later on at the wedding reception, Samara got up to get a cupcake from the dessert table. She hadn’t told anyone yet that she’d gotten not just one, but two, marks. She and Luke had compared their marks after the wedding ceremony, and the mark that he’d gotten, on his chest, was identical to the dragon tattoo she had. She hadn’t told him about her dove tattoo, and he hadn’t mentioned getting a dove tattoo, either.
As she passed the gift table, one of the cards on the table caught her eye. Unlike the other cards, which were addressed to “The Davenport’s” or “Luke & Samara,” this one was addressed to only her. Even more alarming was the color her name had been written in—a shade of crimson, just like the note that had been left on Brad’s chest when he had died.
Placing her finger underneath the fold of the envelope, she tore it open and pulled out the note that was tucked neatly inside. Someone had written in the same red scrawling handwriting: Congratulations, Samara! You’ve married a killer.
The note wasn’t the only thing inside the envelope, though. There was a picture, too. As Samara pulled it out and got a good look it, her breath caught in the back of her throat. The photo was of Luke, holding a knife in the air. Brad was lying on the ground below him, the blood pouring out of his chest, just the way they had found him.
Samara tried to decide what to do. Should she confront Luke about this right now, or should she wait until afterwards when all of their guests had gone home?
An even bigger question loomed over her head. If Luke had done this, why hadn’t she noticed any change in his emotions at the time or since then? She didn’t notice any sense of jealousy or anger that may have resulted in him killing Brad . . . or remorse after Brad was already dead. Was it because Luke hadn’t felt any remorse at all about killing Brad, or was it because he really wasn’t the one who had done it? This picture was the only proof she really had, but maybe it wasn’t legitimate. Maybe whoever had sent it had Photoshopped it to make it appear as though Luke had been the one who had killed Brad when really he hadn’t.
At least, that’s what Samara wanted to believe. She couldn’t bear to think that the guy she had chosen, the guy who she had just married and committed to be with for the rest of her life, had killed Brad.
Before she had a chance to make a decision, Colby walked over to her. Samara quickly stuffed the picture back inside the envelope and shoved it into her clutch, hoping that no one would see that she had opened it at all. She didn’t want to look rude for opening any of her gifts, and she also wasn’t ready to deal with what the envelope’s contents could mean. Not until she had more time to think things through, at least.
Once Colby was standing next to her, he whispered into her ear, urgently, “Your swan tattoo is different. The swan is still there, but now it’s resting on a black heart.”
Samara felt her heart skip a beat. When she glanced over her shoulder at Colby and met his eyes, she could tell that he was thinking the same thing she’d already realized.
Her swan tattoo hadn’t been indicative of Brad’s death, after all. It meant that someone she lov
ed was going to die.
“Thanks for telling me,” Samara whispered back. As Colby went back to the table he was sitting at next to Emma, Samara did a mental inventory of all the people in her life who she loved.
She glanced over at her parents, who were smiling at her from their seats; their expressions were a mixture of happiness—the relief that they felt for knowing that she’d found someone who they thought would make her happy—and the sadness they felt about watching their only daughter grow up so fast. She hoped that her parents wouldn’t be caught in this web of crazy that had become her life and that she wouldn’t lose one of them in the near future.
Next, Samara glanced over at Luke, her husband and mate, who was staring back at her, watching her closely. I love you, he told her through mind-speak.
And I you, Samara replied, quickly glancing away from him. It wasn’t a lie; she did love him, but right now she didn’t want to say it back completely because she was feeling so many other emotions that everything was all a big blur. Now would have been the perfect time to tell him about the envelope and about what she and Colby knew—and what it could mean for his future—but she didn’t want to scare him. No, for now, she needed to keep the secrets that she had between her and Colby only.
Her mind flashed to Declan, who hadn’t been there to witness her marriage or to fight for her one last time the way she had hoped he would. It didn’t matter, though; Samara knew that, no matter what happened from here on out, she would always have feelings for him. She loved him, which meant that, like her parents and Luke, his future was uncertain, too.
Samara glanced to each of the other people in the room who she loved, all who were there to celebrate this life-changing day with her: Emma and Colby, who smiled giddily, as they posed for the photographer; Seth, who shot a smile at her when he noticed her gazing in his direction; Kyle, who stared longingly across the room at Silas; each of her other pack members, all of whom she had come to love in some way or another over the past few months. And for that reason, there was a chance that the tattoo was predictive of one of their deaths.