The Werewolf's Bride

by Tee, Marian

  Soleil swallowed her arguments. She had never been blindly hateful of otherworlders, something that she knew Crystal found disappointing. But she didn’t blame Crystal for it either, knowing that the older woman’s bitterness stemmed from having her son killed by an archdemon.

  “And now, for the good news.”

  Soleil didn’t answer, didn’t really trust Crystal’s version of good news since she had learned how to be pessimistic from Crystal herself.

  “You can still get rid of it by being a heartkeeper—-”

  She started to shake her head, but Crystal said insistently, “It is the only way, Soleil. The only way.”

  Her voice was flat. “No.” She knew what Crystal said made sense. Heartkeeping was the easiest way for her to save her life. But easy wasn’t always the best...or the right thing to do.

  “Just choose any demon—-”

  “And let the demon die so I can live?”

  “We’re talking about demons, Soleil. Demons, you fool!”

  She had never heard Crystal shout...until now.

  “A demon is the reason why you have this curse in the first place,” Crystal snarled. “Your demonic parent unloaded his or her curse on you. That’s how demons are—-”

  “Not all of them.” She swallowed. “I know you don’t believe me, and that’s okay. But I’m no rookie who hasn’t seen the world and still thinks everything is black and white. I’ve seen its darkest corners. I’ve been there, I’ve fought there, and...”

  The image of the marquis flashed in her mind.

  And almost as if he sensed her pain, she could feel him inside her mind, a strong and steady presence that told her she only had to say the word and he would break all the spell barriers Crystal erected in her office so he could speak to her.

  Soleil swallowed. “I just can’t, Crystal.” She bowed her head. “I just can’t.”

  Crystal didn’t answer.

  Slowly, Soleil raised her head, and she was aghast to see her former adviser weeping silently.

  “You’re like a child to me, Soleil. When I lost my son, training you and ensuring you would beat your curse became my reason to live. Please don’t force me to endure the death of another child.”

  IT WAS A QUIET AND withdrawn Soleil that came back to the marquis’ side. She expected him to demand what was wrong, to threaten to have ANEX burned down, but instead he did something she did not expect at all.

  He did not ask.

  He did not say a word.

  He simply drew her to his side, his arm around her, while he held the reins with his other hand and drove her home.

  Rain started to fall midway and she welcomed it. Rain splashing on the ground, coupled with the sound of hooves clobbering the stony ground, drowned out all else, including the sound of her tears.

  Get rid of it by being a heartkeeper. Crystal’s words rang in her ears.

  The other woman made it sound so easy, and maybe it was for Crystal, because she cared nothing about the lives of demons.

  She thought about her family, remembered Aurora crying silently, Fleur talking excitedly about wedding plans, and her father earnestly offering a dowry to the marquis. They had all been happy. Relieved. Grateful. Because they knew about her curse, and they had thought she would die.

  But then the marquis had come, wanting to marry her, and they had thought their prayers were answered.

  But they weren’t.

  She might still die, and she just didn’t have the courage to tell them that.

  “Lady Soleil...”

  “Yes, milord?” Even as she answered him, she didn’t open her eyes, didn’t stir from the warm, safe haven she had found in his arms.

  “I was serious earlier.”

  She stilled.

  “I wish you to marry me and be my heartkeeper.”

  She wondered why he was asking her this, and for a few moments, she used all her skills to sense if he was lying to her. But he was not, and she felt instantly ashamed for even having a single moment of doubt.

  This was Ilie Marcovici, one of the men chosen to be the Duke of Brimstone’s Galeré. Demon or not, the half-angel duke would not have trusted the marquis if he was not honorable.

  And more than that—-

  Hadn’t she always known he was good?

  Hadn’t that been the reason she had resisted for so long to meet him?

  But fate had intervened.

  Shouldn’t she take that as a good sign?

  She heard herself ask, “Why?”

  The marquis answered slowly, “You must know the answer to that. Heartkeeping is what ensures we do not completely turn.”

  “And that’s it?”

  “Should there be another reason?”

  “You can have another woman as your heartkeeper, can you not?”

  “Yes,” he allowed. “It’s true. But we also know any woman is different from the one that fate chose for me.”

  The answer was more than she had hoped for, but...she wanted more. Was it silly and foolish of her to want everything?

  “What answer do you want to hear, milady?”

  She didn’t answer him.

  Soon enough, they had reached her home, and he walked her to the door, holding an umbrella for her like an ordinary, courteous gentleman. She invited him inside, hoping he would refuse, but he didn’t.

  She led him to the parlor, asking him to wait while she changed into something dry. By the time she came down, she had made her decision.

  The marquis was crouched down in front of the fire, staring into the swaying flames like it was a beast he had lived with since birth. He had untied his hair, and the sight of those white-gold locks made her memories feel surreal.

  Who was she to have touched those locks?

  Had it really happened?

  He looked up, his silver eyes instantly finding hers, and what he saw in her gaze made him slowly stand up. “You’ve come to tell me of your decision, have you not, milady?”

  She nodded.

  “Then what is it?” His voice was cool, giving nothing away, but his silvery eyes had turned feral, making her wonder absently if he would really take no for an answer.

  “I will be your heartkeeper...if you fall in love with me.”

  Part Two

  Chapter One

  Events here take place one week after PART ONE.

  Woods of the Wraiths

  Midnight was a magical time in Asphodel. Most often, it was a time when fireworks exploded in the skies, with lords of the manors battling it out on who had the most impressive aerial spectacle to entertain their guests. It was also a time when proposals were made and romance bloomed in the air, with gentlemen going down on bended knees as they presented heirloom rings that had been passed down from generation to generation to the women they wished to spend the rest of their lives with.

  But for the three exquisitely beautiful ladies of Trois Belle Lames, midnight was, more frequently than not, the time for blood and mayhem.

  Trois Belle Lames stood for Three Lovely Blades, a name that Soleil and her two younger sisters hid behind so that no one would know they weren’t exactly spending their free time knitting and painting flowers when they weren’t attending any of the parties they had been invited to.

  Once the sun had set and darkness embraced the world, the Orpheline sisters transformed into soldiers, ditching their corsets and ball gowns for the less restrictive military greens and boots. Rather than practicing their steps for the waltz, they worked on their marksmanship and stamina, and instead of looking for eligible catches to trap in matrimony, they hunted for otherworlders that preyed on the weak—-

  Like now, only this time it was a fellow human that was their prey.

  Soleil, the curvy blue-eyed blonde leader of the Trois Belle Lames, studied the fading footprints they were tracking with an unreadable gaze. “What can you say about this, Aurora?”

  After almost half a month, they had finally been given a worthwhile lead, pinpointing
the whereabouts of the traitor responsible for their last operation, which had been nothing but a setup for an ambush aimed to kill them.

  It was critical that they catch the traitor, not for revenge, but to find out how deeply they were compromised. No one was supposed to know anything about the operations Soleil’s group led, and yet everything that could go wrong that night had gone wrong.

  Aurora crouched down and shook her head after a moment. “This isn’t leading anywhere.” The slender brown-eyed redhead was mostly known as the brains of the group, but few people were aware that she was also the better tracker among her sisters. “He knows we’re on his trail.”

  “Or she,” Soleil murmured absently.

  “I don’t care about the blasted traitor’s gender,” Fleur grumbled. The doe-eyed brunette looked around furtively as she spoke, and her sense of foreboding increased when she heard the leaves rustle around them. Only her sisters knew of her intense distrust of everything otherworldly.

  And what could be more otherworldly, she thought glumly, than the Woods of the Wraiths?

  A forest of black, silver, and white, it was a place that threatened to devour anything with color in life.

  Anything or anyone, Fleur corrected herself, knowing that even trained soldiers like her and her sisters were still in danger in this particular neck of woods. Even if it had been a solid lead, and she knew it was, they really shouldn’t have come here. The Woods of the Wraiths were forbidden territory, even for them. Anyone here was fair game, literally. If they ended up devoured by a rabid shifter or turned into a living voodoo toy by a crazed witch-—since they had come here without express permission from their superiors, no one would be coming to their rescue. Even if it meant being torn or chewed into pieces, Asphodel’s human government would consider their deaths an unfortunate accident.

  Fleur glanced up, and the sight of the full moon in the sky made her grimace. To most other people, it might be a romantic view, but for those like her who knew the truth, it usually meant bad stuff was more likely to happen.

  “It would really, really be nice,” she said half-seriously, “if we had someone furry to protect us.”

  Soleil let out a rare, unladylike snort. “Says the one who’s been adamantly against an otherworlder partner—-”

  “But that’s me, not you,” Fleur pointed out, before adding piously, “And for the record, I happen to think his lordship is the ideal partner for my beloved eldest sister—-”

  “Perhaps because he also happened to grant you a one-day access to Brimstone’s ducal library?”

  Fleur had the audacity to grin. “Oh, you know about that?”

  Soleil simply sighed. Where had she gone wrong at raising this girl? She was just so easily bribed.

  “I also think Fleur has a point, though,” Aurora volunteered.

  “Not you too, Aurora.” Soleil stomped her foot, which would have been a cute display of vexation – if she had been wearing her usual silk slippers. But with high-grade, battle-proof military boots, she only looked like she wanted to crush someone to death.

  “We’ve survived without him for almost ten years—-”

  “But it’s different now,” Aurora interrupted.

  “How is it different, pray tell?”

  “Gladly. Then, the otherworlders we fought didn’t really want to kill us. It wasn’t personal.”

  One golden, beautifully arched brow went up. “Oh, so killing us can be not personal?”

  Fleur pretended to gasp. “Oh my! Is that our kind, perfect sister actually being—-” A pause. “Sarcastic?”

  Aurora nodded seriously. “Such an abominable thing.”

  Soleil glared at the two. “Why are you ganging up on me?”

  “Because you’re being unreasonable,” Aurora answered readily. “You know what I mean. That night was obviously a setup, and it was meant to kill us. So yes, that makes it very, very personal.” She paused—-

  And at that moment, a twig cracked in the not-so-far distance.

  Their plan to lure out their target had worked, as expected, and the Orpheline sisters smiled.

  “They always give themselves away like that, don’t they?” Aurora remarked.

  Fleur’s shoulders moved in a dainty shrug. “What can you expect from idiots?”

  “Who are you calling idiots?” A man stepped out from the darkness. Small and thin, he had an unshaven look about him and possessed the most unhandsome posture, with his stooped shoulders and bow-legged walk.

  “You, I’m afraid,” Soleil murmured apologetically. The trail had not gone cold, but they had pretended otherwise because the location they had chosen was perfect for their needs, allowing them a fair chance of survival even if they were outnumbered.

  And so they had deliberately dawdled, pretending to be troubled, when all they wanted was to lure their opponent out – right where they wanted the traitor to be.

  Soleil sang out, “Come out, come out, wherever you imps are.”

  As she spoke, said imps crawled out of their hiding places. There were ten of them, horrible, vicious-looking creatures that made up the lowest ranks of Hell, but even so they were demons, not at all easy to kill, and would obey only certain humans—-

  Like those who made bargains with the devil, Soleil thought sadly, and believed they could get away with it.

  Stepping forward, she told the traitor gently, “We know your name is Wilbur and that you worked as a runner for the Enforcers. We know that you haven’t shown up for work since your attempt to have us killed. If you tell us the truth about what made you do this and who’s ordered you—-”

  “Shut up,” the man snarled. “You talk too much.” He gestured to the imps, growling, “Kill them!”

  No second order was needed, the imps charging towards Soleil and her sisters, mindless in their need to wreak havoc.

  Letting her blade fly, Aurora smiled humorlessly as it found its target. But her smile faded when she saw the traitor getting away. “Go after him, Soleil—-”

  “We can handle this.” As if to prove her point, Fleur slashed the throat of an imp that had been able to avoid her arrows and come near her.

  Despite her insides clenching because it didn’t feel right to separate – she and her sisters had always fought together – Soleil spun around and tore after Wilbur.

  Creeping vines began to slither in the ground, forcing her to jump and dance around them, knowing that if she allowed herself to be caught, it would never let her go. It hampered her progress, but not as much as it was slowing Wilbur down, because he was clearly unused to any physical test.

  Even so, he clearly wasn’t in the mood to quit, forcing himself to get back up even as he cursed every time a vine managed to slash the cloth and skin on the back of his legs.

  When he looked at her over his shoulder, Soleil saw his face whiten just before he turned and made an unexpected twist, straight into the mist shrouding the deeper region of the woods.

  Her heart lurched.

  Soleil hadn’t survived this long by living fearlessly. No, what enabled her to win every battle was to treat each fight as the last, and to never ever think her enemy was weaker.

  Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.

  And right now, the worst wasn’t Wilbur getting away.

  The worst was to piss off the wraiths that lived in this forest and make them think she was their enemy.

  “Don’t be a fool,” Soleil cried out when she saw Wilbur move closer and closer towards the eerie-looking mist. “You know there’s a possibility you won’t be able to come back—-”

  Wilbur faced her, demanding bitterly, “And what do you propose otherwise? That I go back and await justice?” He shook his head wildly. “You don’t know what it means to be like me! Living in the fringes, always having to kiss people’s arses! Everyone thinks you’re all bloody heroes, the great defenders of the city, when you’re just like everyone else,” he spat. “You’re no different from the monsters beyond these woods. You’re
worse, the way you treat those you think are too weak, too cowardly—-” He reached out for something behind him.

  Soleil stiffened. Whatever he was about to pull out, she had a feeling it wasn’t good.

  And when she saw what it was in Wilbur’s hand, she stiffened even more.

  Unfortunately, her guess had been spot on.

  This wasn’t good...at all.

  He carried a gun, a modern contraption that was forbidden in Asphodel and the entire kingdom for that matter.

  And the wraiths of the woods knew this, too.

  She shook her head slowly. “Don’t do that.”

  “Afraid?” Wilbur’s eyes had a crazed look to them. “Good.” He licked his lips, as if savoring the fear they both knew she was feeling. “I like seeing people like you sweat.”

  When he raised the gun and pointed it at her, Soleil did start to sweat, not because she was afraid of him, but of the ghosts that were starting to stir around them. She could feel it in the cold bite of the wind that began to whip their skins, the way the leaves practically danced on the ground, and oh, when the mist behind Wilbur started to creep closer to him—-

  Was he so lost in his anger that he couldn’t feel they were being haunted this very second?

  She said between tightly clenched teeth, “Don’t. Do. It.”

  He cocked the gun.

  Soleil paled. “You’re going to kill both of us if you do that.”

  Wilbur’s maniacal laughter made Soleil back away.

  “How much of a bloody idiot do you think I am? Is this gun pointed at me?”

  Hopeless, she thought, and backed up another step.

  “You’re the one who’s going to die. Bitch.” He started to pull the trigger.

  She spun around and ran.

  Behind her, a terrifying sound pierced the night, but it wasn’t the sound of the gun going off. It was Wilbur, screaming for his life, but she didn’t look back, didn’t even think of saving him.

  There was no point.

  Once the wraiths wanted you dead, you were.