The Marriage Contract

by Rose Wulf

  Kipp nodded and knelt next to the stranger. He unabashedly reached into the man’s nearest pocket, then across for the other, and extracted a wallet. Lifting his own phone, he snapped a photo of something inside. Probably an ID. “Well,” he said, “even if we let ’em walk off, I’ve got a name and an address.” He grinned.

  Ophelia pursed her lips and strode up to her grandmother. She didn’t crouch as Batson had done for a couple of reasons—instead, she made Yvette angle her head to meet her stare. “We’re going to let you leave on your own terms. Get up and walk whenever you want. But let me make this absolutely clear. Do not bother me again. As much as it breaks my heart, Grandma, we’re through. I’ll never be able to trust you after what you’ve done tonight.” Yvette’s eyes widened and Ophelia squared her shoulders. “This is goodbye.”

  She turned on her heel and walked back to Batson and Kipp and left her grandmother sitting in the dirt.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Thanks so much for this, Alice,” Ophelia said, for probably the twentieth time, as she dropped onto her new roommate’s couch. “I promise I’ll figure something out as fast as I can.”

  “Hey, don’t worry about it,” Alice said, kicking her feet up on the storage ottoman she used as a footstool. “I still can’t believe Batson’s mom evicted you.”

  Ophelia’s heart clenched. “Yeah, me, either,” she lied. There was no solidly defined reason to continue the lie anymore. For the moment, at least, it was just easier.

  So much had happened after she’d defeated her grandmother that night, just a little over two weeks prior. It was early May already and in that short span of time, Ophelia had found herself dragged from her home of over nine years. A home she’d once resented but come to appreciate. In the aftermath of the revelation that had followed the fight with her grandmother, the salamander Elder had had more than a few choice words for Batson’s parents. In turn, Irena Crosse had begun formal eviction processes for Ophelia’s half of the duplex. Privately, Irena had promised Ophelia that if she could be out by the end of April, she wouldn’t owe anything for May’s rent.

  Apparently, with the secret of the marriage out and the contract voided, Irena no longer felt it necessary to provide Ophelia with a place to live.

  Ophelia didn’t know the first thing about looking for a place to move. It had never been on her radar. The end of April had only been a little over a week away by then. She’d about accepted that she’d be paying more rent in May when Alice offered her spare room. At some point, Ophelia really needed to tell Alice the whole story.

  Except some of it was still unconcluded.

  She would never forget the look on Batson’s face when she’d sat him down and told him the sordid details behind their marriage. It was probably similar to the look she must have worn when she’d heard the same news, but being the one telling the story somehow made her feel … dirty. Even if she knew he understood it wasn’t a secret she’d been keeping. Like her, he’d been furious. Disgusted. Before that, when they’d sat down to talk, he’d said he had something he wanted to say, too, but by the time she was done, he seemed to have forgotten it.

  In the end, he’d stormed out to have an angry conversation with his parents that was years overdue.

  She’d decided to follow his lead and left a message for her father. Just two words. “I know.”

  Elder Kirby ultimately banished Yvette Flynn and any sylph under her tribe, though he made a pointed exception for Ophelia, given the circumstances. Not that it mattered, since Ophelia had disowned her grandmother that night, in effect, making herself tribe-less. She wasn’t sure she’d ever even heard of such a thing. She most certainly didn’t know how it was supposed to work. For the moment, though, she was at least safe. From sylph repercussions, anyway.

  She had no idea where Batson stood. She didn’t know what to say to him and she suspected he felt the same.

  She didn’t know what to say, but she missed him. The chasm that had formed between them the moment they’d both become aware of the real reason for their union ate at her with each passing second. It’d been days now since she’d seen Batson. Longer since she’d felt his warmth. They used to live that separately, it was true. Passing by each other in the driveway so quickly that the peripheral glimpse she’d get didn’t count as seeing. But this was so much different. So much deeper.

  It hurt.

  Tears stung her eyes for a second. In the end, it looked like Grandma really had won. Even though he’d boldly promised, out loud in front of all of them, that he wasn’t going anywhere. Now they were apart. Maybe he hadn’t gone anywhere. Technically, she had. But the separation was the same, wasn’t it?

  “Hey,” Alice called, reaching over and shaking Ophelia’s shoulder. “Hey, don’t cry. This place isn’t that bad.”

  Ophelia sniffled and willed the tears away. She offered her friend a shaky smile. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s just … there’s a lot.”

  Alice frowned. “This is about more than the house, isn’t it? This is about whatever else is going on that you haven’t told me yet.”

  Ophelia’s eyes widened.

  “C’mon, I’m not an idiot,” Alice said, shifting on the couch to better face her. “You’ve been crazy upset lately. It’s breaking my heart.”

  “I’m sorry—”

  “No.” Alice held up a pointer finger sharply. “None of that. I’ve heard way too much of that, and about as many thank yous. Let’s get to the actual stuff.”

  Ophelia hesitated. She knew she’d been lousy at hiding her emotions lately, but she hadn’t been prepared for Alice to call her out on it. In hindsight, that was dumb. Alice always called her out. Maybe it was time she came clean. Except… Except, if Alice didn’t take well to having been deceived all these years, Ophelia would lose the only person she knew for sure she had left.

  “Would this be easier with a drink?” Alice offered. “I know you generally don’t, but I’ve got some rum. We could have a rum and coke. Just one wouldn’t kill you.”

  Ophelia pulled her lip between her teeth for a second. “It’s … a long, and really weird, story,” she whispered.

  Alice nodded. “A drink it is.”

  Ophelia shot a hand out to catch her friend’s wrist before Alice could leave the sofa. “Just know … there are things I didn’t tell you … but not because I didn’t want to. Okay?”

  Alice frowned with concern. “Okay,” she said. “But it sounds like I need to make mine a little stronger than yours. I’ll just be a second.” She stood and was almost to her kitchen when someone pounded on the door.

  Ophelia flinched at the heavy, demanding, intruding sound. Were they expecting someone? No, of course not. Alice wasn’t forgetful like that.

  “Weird,” Alice muttered, adjusting course. She offered Ophelia a smile as she moved to the door.

  From the angle of the sofa, Ophelia couldn’t actually see the doorway, so she leaned back and closed her eyes. It would do her good to take a couple of deep, cleansing breaths before the complicated story she was about to tell. Gods, she didn’t even know how Alice would react to the idea of magical beings. She doubted Kipp had mentioned that, given how new their relationship was. She’d definitely start there. If Alice didn’t handle that well, she’d have to find a way to put off telling her the rest. In the meantime, she needed to find a way to explain Batson without revealing Kipp.

  “Um, Ophelia?” Alice called from the entryway.

  The slight confusion and shout of her name drew Ophelia out of her spiraling thoughts. “Yeah?” She pushed to her feet in search of her friend. Had it been a delivery? A sudden, terrible thought occurred to her and stabbed at her heart. Was it divorce papers?

  “It’s for you,” Alice said, almost awkwardly, as she stepped aside. Not that she needed to really move to reveal who stood in the doorway.

  Batson.

  There he stood, just outside the door, as mouth-wateringly handsome as ever with his messy brown hair and intense
ruby-red eyes. It was Friday and he should have been at work, but his clothes didn’t even look dirty from half a day’s sweat or construction dust.

  Ophelia’s tongue stuck in her throat as she came to stand in front of him, a couple of feet back. Within arm’s reach, but not quite invading his personal space. He wasn’t holding any suspicious envelopes. He wasn’t holding anything at all. Was that … good?

  His mouth dipped in a frustrated scowl. “You moved out without saying goodbye.”

  That was true. She’d scheduled the movers for when he’d be at work. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I … didn’t know what to say.” She still didn’t. As much as she hated to think it, part of her wondered—worried—that maybe her eviction was his idea. Or at least something he was on board with. She didn’t think her heart could handle hearing that fear confirmed aloud.

  His jaw clenched. “Fuck,” he grumbled. “I didn’t want this, Lia.” He stared into her eyes with something beyond intensity, as if he were begging her to understand. To believe him. “She didn’t say anything to me. You just—” He cut himself off for a second to swallow heavily. “Started packing.”

  Ophelia’s eyes widened. He didn’t know? It was true she hadn’t specifically told him. She’d assumed he knew—assumed his mother had told him, regardless of whose idea it had been. “I-I thought you knew,” she whispered.

  He clenched his fists at his sides. “I only found out about the eviction this morning.”

  She’d turned over possession first thing that morning. Oh, Gods. He must have been so angry. If any part of him wasn’t purely disgusted with just the idea of her, he might have been hurt. She’d been so focused on her own pain and panicked with her situation she hadn’t considered— It didn’t matter. Ophelia drew a shaky breath and ignored the tear that stole down her cheek. “Gods, Batson, I’m so sorry. I … was being selfish.” Her voice started to waver. “I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t sure there was anything to say. I thought—I was afraid—maybe it was what you wanted. Maybe, after everything, I’d become disgusting to you—”

  Batson moved forward and swallowed her face with his large, warm, calloused hands. One on either cheek, catching her tears, lifting her gaze back to his and holding her there. Fire burned in his eyes. “I fucking love you, Ophelia,” he said firmly.

  Somewhere in the background, Alice made a sort of gasping, shocked sound.

  Ophelia could barely breathe. In ten years, he’d never told her that before.

  He didn’t give her time to respond before he pulled her close and kissed her. This wasn’t like the quick, semi-chaste kiss he’d given her on the battlefield some two weeks before. This kiss was deep and soulful. It curled her bare toes and trickled simultaneous sensations of comforting warmth and blistering lust throughout her body. His hands never left her hair, his lips never left hers, but Ophelia felt downright indecent when the kiss broke.

  “Batson,” Ophelia breathed, her hands flat on his chest now. She stared into his eyes. “I love you so much.” She curled her fingers into the fabric of his black t-shirt. “I don’t … know what to do.” It wasn’t as if she could go back to her half of the duplex. And she didn’t have to ask to know Irena wouldn’t let her move into Batson’s.

  Batson untangled his hands from her hair, straightened, and gently pried her fingers from his shirt. He rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles. “I’ve got an idea,” he said, surprisingly calmly.

  She could only watch with a thrumming heart as he dipped a hand into his pocket briefly and lowered to one knee. Right there in the entryway, with Alice watching—probably with her mouth hanging open—behind them.

  “Ophelia Flynn,” Batson began, holding up a sparkling diamond ring on a shiny golden band, “will you marry me?”

  More tears ran from the corners of her eyes and again, Ophelia ignored them. This time with a smile. “Yes.”

  Epilogue

  One Year Later

  “Fuck, you look amazing,” Batson murmured, his lips brushing the shell of Ophelia’s ear.

  Ophelia jumped, startled, and spun on reflex. “Batson!” She swatted his strong chest. “What are you doing in here?”

  He caught her wrist easily and slid his fingers up her hand with a smoldering grin. “I had some free time.” He raked his gaze over her. “It’s not too late to cancel this thing. Go home, lock the door, skip straight to the honeymoon.”

  She giggled despite herself. “I’ve waited a year for this, Batson Crosse, we are not canceling. Nor are we having our honeymoon in our house.”

  He leaned in until his hot breath tickled her skin and rumbled, “Technically, we don’t leave for that until tomorrow, Lia.”

  She skimmed her fingers over the smooth fabric of his coat. He did look good in a tuxedo. “I know. I’m already packed.” She was giddy enough over the fact that it was finally their wedding day. That they were having a real, open-to-friends, voluntary wedding. That they’d been the ones who’d planned every single detail. She’d gotten so caught up in dreaming about wedding details that when Batson first mentioned their honeymoon, she’d been utterly unprepared.

  But now she was excited. She was almost as excited for their honeymoon—their first, because, of course, they hadn’t gotten one of those before—as for this real-in-every-way wedding.

  Batson looped his arms around her waist, dress and all. “I want to kiss you so damn bad. How hard is it to fix your makeup?”

  Ophelia grinned at him and traced his jaw. “My beautician might skin you. It took her a ridiculous amount of time to make me look this good.”

  His grin only widened. “It’d be fuckin’ worth it.”

  “Or you can wait and ruin it at the appropriate time,” she replied.

  He groaned as if horrendously inconvenienced. However, instead of risking her makeup anyway, he angled his head and pressed his lips to her forehead.

  Her heart fluttered.

  She hadn’t known how she’d feel about this day when they’d first started planning it, since, in a legal sense, they were technically only renewing their vows. She’d feared it might bring sour memories from their first wedding back from the recesses of her mind, that she might spend hours comparing each moment. But that had only happened once, and briefly. When she’d first stood in front of the tall mirror and examined herself in her new and wonderful gown. A gown she’d picked out for herself. A gown she loved. A gown her husband, apparently, appreciated, too. Everything else about the day so far had been drastically different in the best of ways.

  “Oh, no,” Alice cut in as she swept into the room, interrupting the moment and Ophelia’s train of thought. “None of this until after the vows. I don’t care if you’re technically already married and the ‘bad luck’ thing doesn’t matter to you.” She was waving her hands as Batson and Ophelia stepped apart. “Out, mister. Out! Shoo! She’ll see you at the altar!”

  Ophelia giggled at Batson’s exaggerated eye roll.

  “Slave driver,” he muttered, deliberately loud enough to be heard. “When’s it my turn to badger the hell out of you and Kipp?”

  “Ask him,” Alice shot back as she all but chased Batson to the door. “And when you do, make sure he knows I won’t wait around forever!” She snapped the door shut behind him for good measure.

  Ophelia laughed. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said honestly.

  Alice turned toward her with a wide smile. “What you are is lucky,” she said. “That man would’ve made you late and I know how much you’ve been looking forward to this.”

  “There might be a bit of truth in that,” Ophelia admitted.

  Alice ushered her to a bench and fussed with something in her hair while they talked and before Ophelia knew it, it was time.

  She walked herself down the makeshift aisle for their outdoor wedding, Alice following behind her with her train, her watery gaze focused entirely on the man waiting for her at the gazebo. His brown hair was the least messy she’d ever seen it, his fitted
black tux a work of art on his frame, and this time, when he met her gaze, he smiled with shameless affection. This time, when her heart beat an unsteady staccato rhythm, it was with nerves of excited anticipation.

  Their wedding party was still small and, in its own way, sadly lacking. Kipp stood behind Batson as Alice moved to stand behind Ophelia. Kipp’s grandfather and a few closer friends from their respective jobs and improving social lives filled chairs on either side. Batson’s parents sat in the front row. Over the course of the past year, with not a little effort, Batson had made strides to forgive them. Ophelia had, too, in her own way. The relationships were still strained, but improving. It was more than she could say for her own relationship with her father, who hadn’t spoken to her once since she’d learned the truth.

  So she hadn’t invited him, she didn’t even tell him, and that was fine. Everyone who loved her was present. Everyone Batson wanted in attendance was present. But most importantly, when the officiant pronounced them man and wife and Batson pulled her in for their kiss, Ophelia didn’t cry in humiliation or heartbreak. She cried in happiness.

  The End

  www.rosewulf.weebly.com

  Other Books by Rose Wulf:

  www.evernightpublishing.com/rose-wulf

  If you enjoyed this book, you may also like:

  Shadows of Truth by Tanya Jean Russell

  Raking the Ashes by Kait Gamble

  Monster’s Claim by Winter Sloane

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  BONUS SAMPLE CHAPTER

  BURNING MIDNIGHT

  Dark Light, 3