Wild Hyacinthe (Crimson Romance) (27 page)

Charlotte gave a curtsey, long lashes—just like Aria’s—batting over black-laced blue eyes. The unexpected magnitude of meeting not only one succubus, but a whole family of our kind, weighted my mood, and though I didn’t mean to, I tightened my grip on Aria.

“She’s two years younger than you are, Aria,” Gypsy explained, her voice quiet, as though she was afraid of spooking Aria with the news. “Draven is older, your half-brother. You only share a father, genetically speaking.”

“And only a mother with Charlotte,” Dorian said. “Your mother sent her to me very young, because she knew I would provide her a stable home. I have two other half-siblings of yours: twin boys, turning eighteen this year.”

“That’s three of them,” Aria whispered as I stroked her back. She didn’t ask the question that hung in the air between us all: what happened to the rest of her siblings?

Dorian clapped once, startling me. “I hear you Chains throw quite the party!”

Gypsy gestured to the door. “I’ll show you to your seats, and we can let the happy couple get ready.”

Dorian smiled with genuine affection at Aria, who smiled back. Charlotte blew a kiss, her long, brown curls dancing about her shoulders, and skipped after her father as he left. Draven stood there for a moment longer, glaring at me.

I straightened and glared back, tension rolling between us like thunder.

Without breaking his gaze from mine, Draven extended his elbow out to the side. “Ms. Chain?”

Gypsy glanced at him, confused.

Draven turned a charming smile on my sister. “May I have the pleasure of your company through the ceremony? In case I need translation.” His English was perfect, only enhanced by a strong Greek accent, and I stepped forward at the suggestion.

My sister was spelled by the intensity of his gaze as she accepted his arm, a mesmerized smile forming on her lips.

My sister—my normal, non-succubus sister—on the arm of an incubus. Aria grabbed my wrist to restrain me as they turned to the door, and I barely managed to stop myself from blasting forth to beat Draven to death for even suggesting he might try something with Gypsy. But violence at a wedding was low, even for me. I clenched my fists so tight my fingernails cut into my palm.

How dare he?

“Asher, go to Dorian,” Aria rushed when they were gone, taking my face between her hands as I seethed with fury, vibrating so hard the wine glasses on the counter rattled together. “Tell him to get Draven under control. Gypsy . . .” she trailed off, shaking her head. “An incubus has this magnetism women can’t resist. I felt it with you. Every woman feels it with you: just look at how they chase you. Get her away from that brother of mine.”

She didn’t need to tell me twice. I tore away from Aria and shoved through the door, breaking the trim on the doorframe. Cameras flashed in my face as I yanked the door shut behind me. Great, the paparazzi had arrived.

I followed the Nikolaos party to the bar set up behind one of the cabins, just outside the ceremony area. My sister laughed at something Draven murmured to her, and I clenched my jaw to restrain an irritated remark. I grabbed Gypsy by the elbow and yanked her away from Draven, who took a step toward me, surprised. I put myself between them and felt the fire of an incubus enraged flashing through my eyes as I stared him down. Draven stroked the stubble of his chin as I glared at him, and then Gypsy slapped me on the shoulder.

“What the hell are you doing, Asher?”

A camera flashed.
At least the tabloids are getting a great story.
I could already see the headline:
Asher Chain fights with sister at his own wedding.

I pulled my sister out of view of the cameras, behind the bar. “Gypsy, he’s an incubus. An
incubus.
Don’t let him fool you.” My voice was desperate with panic.

Gypsy rolled her eyes, annoyed, and then something clicked and she sucked in a breath. She’d been enchanted by his natural charm, and forgot all about the danger. Even with all my victims she handled, an ordinary woman could not refuse the seduction of an incubus. My sister shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.

“Some problem?” Dorian Nikolaos’s deep voice came from behind me.

I spun and grabbed him by the lapels of his suit coat. “Get your man under control, Nikolaos,” I snapped. “This is not your fucking grazing ground, you hear me? No one at this event is available for your needs. Not the guests, not the staff, and not my sister. No one.”

Gypsy shied behind me as Dorian held up his palms, and I released his coat. He brushed himself off and leaned over to Draven, whispering something I couldn’t hear. Draven’s expression registered surprise, and then he straightened and nodded curtly at my sister.

“Ms. Chain,” he said. “Please excuse.” He left us there, and slid into the limousine by which he arrived. Gypsy shivered.

“Apologies,” Dorian said. He and Charlotte proceeded to the bartender, and I took my sister by the shoulders.

“You okay?”

“Yes,” she said without missing a beat. “I’m fine. I just . . .” She trailed off, but she didn’t need to finish.

Gypsy may have spent her entire life side by side an incubus, but that incubus was her brother, and I didn’t have the same effect on her as others did. Draven shook her certainty of her own strength around people like us, and I was relieved this happened when I could do something about it, when I could help.

“It’s three-thirty. You have half an hour to get dressed and down the aisle.” My sister turned on her heel and strode away to berate an usher for some crooked rows of chairs.

I walked, numb at what just happened, back to my cabin to dress.

If an incubus approached Gypsy when I wasn’t around, would she detect his seduction before she let her guard down? Or would he win her over before she registered the danger? I had no way of knowing, so I vowed to make it crystal clear to her how powerful an effect another incubus might have.

Shit!
I left Aria so abruptly. I cinched up my tie, threw on the clip and swept out of the cabin toward hers.

I stared at the shoes on the floor of my private dressing cabin. The dark atmosphere cast by the log walls and stone floor made the shoes gleam even brighter white, but it wasn’t the color that concerned me. I stuck to running shoes most of the time, afraid I’d break an ankle in heels. Would I be able to walk in them?

I glanced up in the mirror, my face flushed bright in the reflection. Fuck, I didn’t know how to use enough makeup to cover up my frustration. I leaned closer. I still looked like me, despite my new succubus eyes. The black lace over my irises gave my gaze layers and depth, and though the girl staring back at me wasn’t quite familiar, I liked her a hell of a lot. She looked more intense than the old me, and the succubus’s powers radiated confidence through my body. I stood straighter, and every emotion I felt was more potent than before. I was stronger, deeper, and more in tune with myself than ever before.

What happened with Gypsy? Why would Draven—the man I was supposed to call a brother—try to yank her away from Asher like that? Maybe he was just an asshole. Maybe that’s what happened to incubi who never found a way out of killing: they viewed all women as available targets, since there was no point in singling anyone out as unique. We were the unique breed, and I had a whole family of them to deal with.

And only three of my siblings were with my father, Dorian Nikolaos. What happened to the other fourteen? Would I ever find them?

My phone vibrated and I shook myself out of brooding. I fumbled through the various garment bags on the bed until I found the sleek, white iPhone Asher bought me last week. I sighed with relief as his name flashed on the screen, and I opened a text.

Outside, back door. Don’t want to ruin the dress surprise. Gyp’s okay. You okay?

He didn’t want to ruin the dress surprise?

I flew to the door and pulled it open, and sure enough, Asher’s gorgeous face met me. I returned his smile and stepped back to admire him. His black suit was barely pinstriped with narrow blue lines, the perfect color match to the satin shirt beneath and fitted to his body like the sexiest glove. A silver tie finished off the look, and I drank in the sight of my man, my fiancé, though I could hardly believe it was true, as he checked me out from head to toe, too.

“I like it,” he said with a wink. I glanced down. Of course he liked it: I was still in my white lace lingerie. I hadn’t managed to tackle the dress yet, or anything but my underwear and bra for that matter.

Asher stepped in and closed the door, and then ran a hand over his short hair. “Gypsy’s okay. I think Draven left.” He held out a hand, and I took it, letting him wrap me in his strong, solid arms.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

He nodded, rubbing my bare sides. “I’m just finally seeing what I am from the outside, you know? It’s more than a little uncomfortable.”

I licked my lips and played with the lapels of his suit. “You’re not them, Asher. You found a way out. Hold onto that, okay?”

“I’d prefer to hold onto you,” he said.

I smirked. “Okay. But you’ll have to let go so I can get dressed.”

He did, much quicker than I wanted him to. I turned back to the bed and leaned on my palms, my thoughts scattered. What did I need to do next?

“Sweetie? What’s wrong?”

I hesitated, but decided honesty was the best way to start a marriage. “My brother just made off with your sister.
My
sister is really my sister, a baby I held when I was not much older than a baby, myself.”

He stepped to the bed and reached around me, picking up the garter beside the garment bag that held my dress. I turned, and he knelt before me, lifted my calf in his warm, strong hand and slid the garter up to my thigh. He kissed my thigh as he settled the pale blue lace against my skin, and gazed up at me, his expression intense. “I promise I’ll take it off you, later.”

I laughed, tension draining out of me at his always sexy attitude. Yes, he would take it off me. Or rip it off me. Hmm... I shook my head to focus as erotic thoughts stole my concentration.

Asher smirked at my obvious distraction. “Do you have something old?”

I leaned back to glance at the bed and grabbed the little black, velvet box Gypsy gave me. I opened it up and revealed a slender, sapphire-tipped pin. “Gypsy said it was an heirloom of some kind. She said to keep it, but I don’t know if I should.”

Asher inspected it for a moment. “It’s lovely. Keep it. I’m sure there’s plenty more where that came from. For your hair?”

I nodded. “And the dress, the garter, the shoes . . . they’re all new. I have blue . . .” I raised my eyebrows at the garter Asher’s thumb was still sliding seductively across, “but since everything is new, other than the pin, I don’t have anything borrowed.”

He pursed his lips, and then reached up to his tie and unclipped it. He pulled the knot undone and slid the tie off his neck, flipping open the top two buttons. I bit my lip, arousal igniting just above his hand on my thigh as I stared at the skin of his chest, craving a taste of him. He ran his finger over the inscription on the pin—“A. Chain”—and smiled at me.

“My father gave it to me. So you can borrow it, if you like.” Asher clipped the pin to my garter, and the cool metal sent a shiver up through my body. He stood, took my face between his hands, and kissed me.

“What else do you need help with?”

I snorted. “This impossible dress.”

“I’m not supposed to help you with
that
. It’s against the rules.”

“Fuck the rules, I’m never going to get all the buttons done by myself.”

He feigned surprise. “How scandalous!”

I smacked him lightly on the chest and he let out that boyish chuckle I adored. “Please?”

Asher brushed a kiss across my lips. “Of course. The photographers will shit a brick if we’re late, anyway.”

“Photographers?”

He spread his hands wide, that proud, winning smile plastered across his face. “Welcome to the Chain family, Aria.”

I forced my jaw closed and took the heavy dress out of the garment bag. Asher grinned ear-to-ear as he helped me step into it.

“Can I offer you help with something else, too?” he said as he worked on the back buttons, which stopped at the lowest appropriate inch of my lower back, my tattoo exposed.

“Sure.”

He turned me around and took both my hands. “Aria, I promise we’ll find your brothers and sisters. All of them. We’ll scour the fucking planet, if we have to. I won’t stop until you have them all accounted for. You have given me so much peace. Let me help you find yours, too.”

Tears pricked in my eyes, and I swallowed, trying to stop myself from crying. I didn’t need to get any blotchier than I already was, but gratitude flooded my heart.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice thick. “I have nothing to give you, though.”

He brought my knuckles to his lips and kissed me, long and slow. “Just give me you.”

I left the top few buttons of my shirt open and discarded the tie: Aria was marrying
me,
in all of my imperfection, and I couldn’t wait to declare my promises to my bride with no shame for who and what I was.

I waited on the rocks overlooking Lake Superior before the crowd of eager guests as the sun cast welcoming warmth over the endless waterfalls of flowers cascading from every post, every arch, and every chair. I glanced at Dorian and Charlotte, seated a few rows back from the front, and my soon-to-be father-in-law nodded with approval, a hint of apology in his eyes. I returned the gesture, unwilling to let any of the unpleasantness from earlier disrupt this joyous day.

Violins arced sweetly through the air. I craned to see beyond the archway behind all the seated guests, and Aria stepped forth through the curtains of flowers, my sister on her arm.

Gypsy, wearing a dark blue, sleeveless gown—had she worn a dress since we were kids?—walked my bride down the aisle, closing the distance between us. Aria kept her eyes down, so I let my gaze drift along her figure, the satin of her gown defining her hips with flowing white like the caps of the gentle waves on the Great Lake, and her arms wrapped in sultry white lace with the faintest accents of glittering blue embroidery to compliment the flowery pattern. The fabric dipped low between her breasts, inviting my gaze and reminding me how perfectly every inch of her figure fit my own. No veil covered her exposed skin or hair, her long, blue bangs pinned away from her face behind her ear. She looked so natural, so at peace, and as she finally raised her eyes to meet mine, my heart stopped racing and beat the rhythm of my purpose through my soul: sturdy, bold devotion in my ears.