Shade for love, p.2
Shade for Love, page 2
Cara Jenklow glowed with the promise of everything he could never have. Beautiful. Loved. Mortal. Undoubtedly female, the way the ivory gown hugged her curves, contrasting stunningly with her dark skin. She walked, tall and statuesque, down the makeshift aisle on Albert Jenklow’s arm, his figure hunched and shrunken, light glinting off his bald head.
William couldn’t look away from Cara. She had trouble written all over her. Hell, it was in the way she held her head high and glided toward him, no hesitation in her step, determination shining in those dark eyes. The fading sunlight played with her dark curls, creating a warm halo around her face and causing a lurch of his innards that made him want to pull at his collar and smooth his hair.
Made him wish he was as young as he looked and believed in the possibility of happy endings.
He straightened and narrowly avoided that collar-tug.
Behind his bride-to-be a slim, dark haired pale woman slipped into a seat as witness. The only other guests were the snoring old man who’d been there since before the dinner rush and the big, dark-haired guy with the stethoscope and lab coat, Doctor Quilan.
His four old friends stood behind William, backs to the windows like choirboys, dubiously innocent considering this setup. Four men who’d once been eager to prove themselves, protect their country and their kind. Four men who’d gotten old, frail in the years since they’d last met. They’d said she was lonely. That she was in danger. That she needed him.
The woman striding toward him didn’t look like she needed anyone. Her grandfather, Jenklow, leaned on her slim, bare arm, yet her stride remained strong, back straight, shoulders back. Worse were those delectable lips of hers that twitched as though enjoying a private joke, her dark gaze steady on him.
A small curl of something dangerous flickered to life inside, an old fire flaring. Heat burned through him, low and hot, hungry. He wanted that smile on him, for him. It’d been a long time since he’d felt pure, old-fashioned desire. His hands grew damp at his sides. Something more insidious lurked in that desire. Something that lit up the dark corners and cobwebbed dreams of getting married and settling down. Of a bride and a woman who’d love the real him.
He shifted. Blast. He had a mission to focus on. For too long, he’d had more enemies than friends, and any time he’d gotten attached, someone else paid the price. There was a damned good reason he’d dedicated his life to bringing down the Guardians, and it wasn’t time to let personal attachments get in the way now. He had to cap those feelings and that lust. Dangerous or not, whether she needed him or not, he needed her.
For bait.
Rumor was his old enemy was back and headed this way. The human-hating Guardians had destroyed dozens of sanctuaries like this one during the war, and sources said they were after a rising power, a unique hybrid right here in Beckwell. Hybrids historically had manifested unusually strong abilities…and they typically lacked protection from powers stronger than the gods and purebloods who usually made up the Guardians. They were the perfect target for the Guardians, who’d used many like them during the war. Like strapping bombs to rats, hybrids were a disposable weapon the Guardians could always find a use for. Rumors being unspecific things, his source hadn’t known what species or what person.
Lo and behold, Albert and his old team, the Shades, contacted him about concerns they had about their beloved granddaughter. An unusual nymph-Yaga hybrid. Her growing abilities. New threats to their town. It’d all clicked. She was the hybrid the Guardians were after. The Guardians liked nothing better than turning a uniquely powerful paranormal into a weapon no one would see coming. They’d destroyed countless sanctuaries and lives throughout their history in the same way.
Agreeing to this faux marriage had seemed logical. The Shades knew he’d do anything for the cause, anything to bring a stop to the Guardian’s atrocities. Including follow through with their demand that he marry a woman who had no clue about any of it. His name and reputation would provide her some protection, but more than that, he needed to stick close, let the Guardians come to him when they came after her.
His skin itched and his chest tightened. The Shades would want to hide her away. He was knowingly putting her in danger. He’d lost to the Guardians before. Hell, if they got to her using fey magic or other mind control, there might be no saving her. But this was his chance to have the Guardians come to him instead of the fruitless chasing he’d done for years. Even if he couldn’t save their target, her handler would have to be physically close, and he’d follow that handler up the food chain.
Cara stopped beside him, giving Jenklow a sweet kiss on his wrinkled cheek and a squeeze of his liver-spotted hands. Her expression was guileless and sweet as she faced William, not a flicker of an eyelash to indicate she’d heard a word of the stories they told about him.
While Jenklow took his place with the rest of the Shades, she offered him a shy smile, a hint of a dimple in one cheek. She was tall, but he was taller. Tall enough to admire the robin’s egg sized amber pendant that lay on her chest, trailing into the shadows between her breasts. He swallowed, throat thick, and it wasn’t the only thing. Hell and blast.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m Cara, and I’ll be your bride this evening.”
If he’d believed in hell, he was headed there…if anyone figured out how to kill him. His lips twitched in an almost smile, the muscles stiff from disuse. He’d appreciated strong women long before it was fashionable. “A pleasure. I’m William, your groom.”
Her lips curved more, that dimple deepening. She leaned closer, a tendril of dark hair caressing her neck, her sweet floral scent twining around him, luring him closer. “I know who you are. Don’t worry.”
Ice water rushed through his veins, and his smile cracked. Ah hell. If she’d heard the stories about the real-life Van Helsing, a paranormal being who sometimes tracked and hunted his own, stories that kept most people distant, was she flirting with him because she was one of those women? Some saw him as the ultimate conquest, a notch for their belt.
Before he responded, Henry Einar cleared his throat, tall and straight-backed, once-blond hair now white. Attention caught, he nodded at William and Cara. “Please join hands.”
William reached for Cara’s hands. Her fingers were long and strong, skin as silken as he’d imagined.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the union of our dear friend, William MacIntyre Best, and Cara Rose Jenklow, a granddaughter to Albert and all of us. We will collectively perform portions of the ceremony.”
Oh, hell.
Bal Liko, weapons officer, stepped up first, skin light brown, a thin dark moustache all that remained of his hair. He was more belly than muscle these days, but he crossed his arms and gave William a hard look. “You promise to take good care of our princess? Never go to bed angry, and don’t hurt a hair on her head or else?”
“That’s not a vow, Liko, that’s a threat,” Einar said mildly.
“Which is why it matters,” Liko shot back, gaze narrowed on William.
Years of training, situations facing down demi-gods, deranged pixies, glamour-sick yuppies, and the worst the Guardians sent after him kept William’s expression neutral despite the hard thud of his heart. The Shades would never forgive him if they found out why he’d really agreed to marry Cara. If he didn’t keep his distance, they’d realize he was the monster everyone believed he was. “I do.”
Liko’s gaze narrowed like he wanted to continue his interrogation.
Dapper George Chaimek, though, with all his silvery hair and a fuller moustache, strode up and prodded Liko, his former brother-in-law and permanent nemesis, in the side.
“You’ve had your turn. Move it,” Chaimek said.
Liko glowered but returned to his spot in the line.
Chaimek, the old sorcerer, stuck his tongue out at Liko. They’d bickered long before there’d been wives in the picture, both of them long since widowed.
A small pang settled in William’s gut. All he knew of any of his friends’ wives were the black-and-white photos, the letters Jenklow sent, and the hollow sentiment of sympathy cards.
Chaimek’s dark gaze settled on William. “I don’t have to threaten you. You know what I’m capable of if you hurt Cara. Even without visits, you still remember who we are, don’t you?” He bestowed a glowing smile on Cara. “Darling Cara, do you promise to give William the benefit of the doubt when he makes a mistake, which he will, and give him the chance to explain?”
Cara nodded. “I do.”
“Doyoupromisetorespect,honorandbelieveineachother?” Ted Zaki squeaked, stringing all the words together and barely stepping forward before jumping back, his narrow, ageless face red. The djinn was the oldest of the team, but he could have been someone’s beanpole college kid, with a mop of dark curls, thick glasses, and prominent Adam’s apple. Ironic he’d always been cool as a cucumber as their transport and coms man.
“I do,” Cara and William said at the same time.
Damn it. Every time his gaze bumped into Cara’s, that flare of desire ignited, burned a little hotter. She looked tastier than apple pie a la mode, or chocolate cake steaming from the oven.
Albert Jenklow was the last to take center stage, heart and soul of the Shades. Like Liko, time had stolen most of his hair, leaving bushy eyebrows and a white fringe around his ears. The weight of the years had stooped his once tall frame. Still, mischief and intellect shone in that blue gaze, and ten to one, odds said it was he who’d come up with this scheme. “Cara, William, I know this marriage is unusual, but don’t let that dim it’s potential. May the gods bless this union with love and joy, and may you both remember that sometimes there’s magic where you least expect it.”
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Einar said. “You may now kiss.”
“So say we all,” echoed the rest of the Shades.
Something old and expectant crackled in the air as the words hung there a moment. William turned to his bride.
The sun set the ends of her dark-brown curls on fire, her dark gaze luminous.
The way she regarded him was more guileless than conquest-seeking, yet how could she calmly hold his hands if she knew the stories? This close, he spotted the gold flecks in her brown gaze, felt the tremble in the fingers he clasped. This wasn’t a real marriage. He couldn’t… He shouldn’t…
“With your permission, I’d like to kiss,” she whispered.
“Really?” He stepped closer, the heat of her soaking through that satin.
She made a surprised kind of laugh, dark eyes dancing. “I’m sure.”
Her laughter stopped. That weightiness of the moment held them as she leaned forward, and he lowered his lips to brush hers.
She was the perfect height for kissing, her lips soft and moist, not sticky with lipstick. He brushed his mouth against hers once, her lips moving beneath his. Sparks and potent need chased through him, drew his hand to her satin-wrapped body, the warm curve of her back to gently tug her closer. Kissing her was like it was his first time. She tasted of mint and sweetness, better than any treat he’d enjoyed. The heady rush and burgeoning desire, the spark of energy that promised this was only beginning, a sweetness that was more intoxicating, more addictive than any of the treats Dad had always banned.
Kissing Cara was like a promise that somehow, after all these years, all those lonely nights on the road, all the rumors and legends… In this moment, with this woman, he was safe. He’d finally come home.
He yanked away, lips burning. Fire raced through his body, his pulse pounded in his ears, and desire for her body and for that insidious hope she inspired battered at his defenses and control. Hell no. He’d ridden that pain train too many times. Mother and Dad had proved love soured around him. He was too old for relationships. Too old for her. There was no home other than the road and the next case, and she deserved a hell of a lot better than him.
She was a means to an end. A tool to use against an old enemy. Nothing more.
The Shades cheered loudly, other silver and white heads poking their faces around the dining hall doors curiously.
Cara remained frozen where he’d left her, eyes closed for a moment before they fluttered open, her gaze finding his. A bemused sort of calm curved her lips.
New arrivals swarmed toward them, most of them silver-haired like the Shades, making this less like a formality and more like a party. Or a wedding. A real one.
All of the residents knew Cara, giving her hugs, offering kind words. He was pressed back by the swarm of silver- and white-haired residents, all so mortal, so fragile with age.
Then there were the whispers, the stares, the questions of “why him?” Why would their sweet Cara Jenklow marry the bogeyman of children’s stories, a threat that if you didn’t stay in line, if you broke the rules of their paranormal world, the Abomination would get you. Not quite human, not quite paranormal, something in between he’d never understood himself.
The room faded to grayish blurs, and he couldn’t have picked out the faces of people who greeted him from a suspect line. They’d hate him, too, when they uncovered the truth. But he’d protect them from the Guardians anyway because that was the mission.
His gaze lingered on his new wife. A mission he’d sacrifice anything—and anyone—to complete.
Chapter Three
Dancing and Plots
Kissing William Best in real life eclipsed every dream she’d ever had. The rest of the wedding thing was exhausting. In a normal marriage, weren’t you supposed to save your energy for the wedding night? Cara gave a small wave to Mr. Einar, who worked the other side of the room. Unfortunately, even if she did want to know if other activities with William were better in real life, too, she’d lost him a half hour ago or so after Center residents swamped her, all of them always happy for any excuse to party or talk about their newest grandbaby. If she and William were meant to be together like Gramps, her visions, and Dom believed, they’d eventually connect, right?
Cara’s face ached from the effort of holding a polite smile while standing near white-haired Mr. Filipov and Mr. Kozel, who had less hair and a wispy beard, both of whom sat while insisting she mediate their discussion of inter-dimensional reality bubbles. The only way she had any idea what they meant was because of Mr. Zaki’s kind tutoring and all the articles he forwarded for her to read. She shifted awkwardly, seeing as her left foot ached where Mrs. Silver’s cane had connected when Cara saved her from a fall after overly enthusiastic dancing. The poor dear couldn’t afford to break a hip. Or maybe it’d been when Mrs. Helsin’s wheelchair had rolled over Cara’s toes when she’d headed to a very nervous Maddy’s rescue, cornered by a few of the newer residents who didn’t understand Maddy needed her space and that she’d analyze their antiques for them during her allotted time slot.
Whatever the case, Mr. Filipov and Mr. Kozel both had the benefit of chairs, whereas Cara did not. Damn toes and reality bubbles. Still, this was what the Shades had trained her for. Know everyone so you were always the first to know, Mr. Einar always said. Mr. Liko probably would have told both Mr. Filipov and Mr. Kozel to stuff it by now, but his lessons on self-defence every birthday were enlightening. She’d learned everything they had to teach her, everything to prove she was a worthy Shade and deserved all that time they’d spent on her over the years. Sure, they only taught her things even someone with limited magic could handle, like defensive spells and tricks to allow her to escape and find someone with real power to help. But she knew she could prove that her love and dedication to Beckwell made her a valuable Shade, impressive ability or not.
Which meant buzzing among all those residents, she was the first to hear the stories they whispered about her new husband. The names they gave him. Abomination. Van Helsing. Death dealer. Most of them she’d heard, but with everyone except Gramps and the boys questioning why she’d married William Best, well, kind of hard not to question that herself.
She reached for the chilled amber Yaga pendant where it rested against her chest. Cold meant no Dom. If only the spirit were around to offer sage advice, with a side of grouchy or not. That was the problem when your best friend went missing and they were the spirit of the ancient Yaga house, Domoroy Yaga—or Dom for short—that lived inside a pendant. People gave you weird looks if you told them you talked to jewellery. In every other way, Dom was real, even defining themselves as outside of the binary, identifying as they/them, and with strong opinions on everything that could be tiresome…but which Cara missed.
But for two days, right after Dom told Cara that William was part of her destiny and to find the nymphs, it’d been radio silence. Not in the sullen, didn’t-feel-like-answering silences Dom would pull, either. Not a word, no explanation, gone. After two decades of always being there when Cara needed them, Dom was missing. If they didn’t return, Cara would lose her consulting position with Doc Quilan, working with the doctor on potions and alternative healthcare based on species-specific history for paranormal patients. All her hard work would be for nothing. The consulting paid better than teaching art classes alone. Dom was the one who knew that Yaga history, was basically a bodyguard/encyclopedia and helped with the diagnosis. It was because of Dom that Cara had finally made a place for herself in Beckwell, started to feel like she could fit in…even if she wasn’t born here and didn’t have the ability everyone seemed to expect.
“Has anyone seen my bride?” The deep baritone rolled over Cara like chocolate on ice cream, sending a small shiver of heat straight to her core.
