Lassiter, page 37
“This is all so unexpected,” she whispered.
“Life can be really amazing, right? I remember when I mated Wrath, I thought the same thing—wait, hold on. Are you… you know what Lassiter’s going to do, right? During the ceremony.”
“About the—oh.” Rahvyn put her hand over her mouth. “I, ah, we didn’t speak of it? I certainly did not ask. Is he…”
“The pitcher and the bowl are on a table down there. So I think it’s going to happen.” Beth’s expression tightened. “When I got mated… someone… was there for me, supporting me, and she helped a lot. I want to be that person for you when it’s time. Unless you want Mae?”
Something about the energy of the Queen told a story that did not need words to resonate: The one who had stood in for Beth was gone now. She hadn’t survived the war.
“What was her name,” Rahvyn asked roughly. “Your sister who died.”
“Wellsie. Wellesandra.” Beth sniffled a little. “And she wasn’t of my blood, but you’re absolutely right, she was my family. She gave me my dress, just as I’m giving you yours. You would have liked her a lot. She was a strong female.”
Rahvyn picked up the heavy, beaded skirt, and went over to the Queen. Dropping down into a low curtsy and bowing her head, she said, “I would be most grateful for your kindness during the ceremony. Thank you.”
Beth nodded and smiled sadly. “Let’s get you mated, Rahvyn.”
With a brisk stride, the Queen went over to open the door—and when she turned back around, she was deliberately happy, in the way someone was when they were determined not to ruin somebody else’s special moment.
“You know,” she said, “silver really is your color. You look like a diamond.”
Rahvyn glanced down at herself and then walked across the clutter, deliberately choosing where to put her feet. The gown’s fabric, with its subtle pattern of beads, really was extraordinary, a shimmering fall the color of a dove’s breast—and she liked its weight and the way it rustled.
“You all worked miracles,” she murmured as she drew a hand down her hair, which had been curled and brushed into waves.
Beth reached out and squeezed her hand. “The miracle is you. Everything else is just window dressing.”
Rahvyn all but floated out of the sitting room, and on the far side, there was no electrical illumination: Candlelight was everywhere and it was incredible, a soft, dewy glow replacing the artificial source that hadn’t seemed harsh until it was replaced by something so much more gentle.
“Here she is.”
As Beth spoke up, Sahvage stepped forward, and her cousin was handsome as ever, with his dark hair and deeply set eyes, yet he was also fierce in a floor-length black robe.
“You ready?” When she nodded, he tucked her arm through the crook of his elbow. “Beth, let Z know to start the music.”
The Queen gave her one final hug, and then she lifted the skirt of her own gown and rushed off. A moment later, a guitar started to play some classical music.
Her cousin led Rahvyn to the head of the staircase, and along the way, she found herself glad for his sturdy arm. She was nervous, praying she did not make a fool of herself.
And then she could see down below to the foyer. There were so many people… yet only one registered.
Standing next to Wrath, bathed in the candlelight, Lassiter was resplendent in a black gown, his blond-and-black hair split upon his shoulders and flowing down the front of his chest, glints of gold on his ears, around his throat, on his wrists and fingers—but that was not all that gleamed upon him.
Stretching out from his upper back, extending to the sides, a pair of gossamer wings were magically translucent, all the colors of the rainbow shifting along the pattern of feathers—and up over his head… a circlet of gold hovered and winked. Indeed, the calling cards of his status were both muted, but very present, and as Rahvyn stumbled in her awe upon the stairs, her cousin caught her.
Lassiter, the fallen angel, with his halo and his wings, was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, and now that the illumination within him had somehow returned, she could not escape the feeling that all was right in the world.
Verily, this was a night for miracles—especially as he stared up at her, his eyes rapt on her own as if he could not believe what he was seeing, either.
In fact, his mouth actually fell open… and indeed, halfway through her descent, he brushed at his eyes.
What a relief, that the Queen would not have to turn into a rabbit of Easter.
Down at the bottom, Sahvage stopped, and there was a moment of pause. Trying to catch her breath, she had to look away from her intended, and oh, what a wonderful assembly. The males and females of the house, as well as the young of all ages, and the doggen, had formed a semicircle around the foyer’s fringes, the mosaic depiction of an apple tree in full bloom upon the floor like a hearth they had gathered about for warmth.
They were all smiling, the goodwill like the candlelight, bathing her and her angel, in peace and love.
“Who giveth this female unto this male?” the King demanded in a loud, booming voice.
“I do,” her cousin, and sole surviving member of her bloodline, answered in an equally thunderous voice.
“Join her then with her intended mate that I shall conduct this ceremony in the right and proper way, that their union shall be recognized according to my authority and station.”
Sahvage walked her around the table and there was a gloss of tears in his eyes as he put her hand in Lassiter’s—and the instant she looked up into the face of her intended, she was transported to another place, everything disappearing… until there was only him.
This is home, she thought. He is my home.
The rest of what Wrath asked, and what she and Lassiter answered, was lost to her, in large part because of the majesty of the proceedings—and also because she kept glancing at the table and the pitcher of water and basin of salt that were upon it.
She marveled about what Fate provided. She truly did.
* * *
Rahvyn was the most resplendent thing Lassiter had ever seen, and as he answered the great Blind King’s prompts and stared into his shellan’s silver eyes, he was blown off the earth and sent into the stratosphere: Considering it was his mating ceremony, you’d think he’d pay more attention to the ins and outs of what was being said, but really… all he could focus on was Rahvyn and how he was the luckiest male on the planet. On any plane of existence.
And then it was time.
The Black Dagger Brotherhood lined up by the table, and as Lassiter removed his robe, revealing his bare torso draped in all of the gold that had been lent to him, he was aware that both Beth and Mae had stepped in beside Rahvyn and put their arms around his female’s waist.
They hadn’t talked about this beforehand, and the tense expression on Rahvyn’s face made him wonder if she didn’t want him to complete this part of the ceremony.
But then she nodded and he nodded back.
Wrath unsheathed a black dagger. “Kneel,” he commanded.
After Lassiter retracted his wings and complied at the feet of the King, Wrath said, loudly and clearly, “What is the name of your shellan?”
“Rahvyn,” he answered with equal strength. “She is known by the name, Rahvyn.”
He looked across at his mate as Wrath, guided by Tohr, made the first of the carvings, the symbol for the letter R cut into the skin on his upper left shoulder, his silver blood flowing, warm and vital, down the side of his ribs. To present himself as worthy, he bore the pain without flinching, without weakness. For his shellan, he would be strong in this and all things.
Sahvage, as Rahvyn’s next of kin and eldest male relative, was next, accepting the dagger from the King, and then moving over to Lassiter’s back.
“What is the name of your shellan,” the brother demanded.
“She is Rahvyn, and she is my one and only love.”
And so it went, each symbol carved into him by another member of the Brotherhood, the stinging agony something he continued to bear without submission. Beth and Mae stayed by Rahvyn throughout the cutting, and then, though his skin would not scar unless he willed it such—and he did—the salt water was brought to him. Bracing himself, he locked his molars as Wrath spoke.
“The name of your shellan is now upon your skin as in your heart. May you bear her symbols unto the world for your life, that all may know to whom you belong.”
The splash was cold, the burning like fire had been poured on him.
And as the Brotherhood’s chanting exploded in the foyer, he rose to his feet—and Rahvyn broke free of the Queen and ran to him.
Throwing her arms around him, he winced and she apologized, but he didn’t care and neither did she. They were kissing as cheers echoed all throughout the grand foyer.
“We did it,” he said against her mouth.
“We most certainly did.” She touched the gold that draped down his chest, the various necklaces and bracelets locked together, forming one long chain that he’d wrapped around and around his torso. “Are these your jesses?”
“They’re loaners.” He put up his jingling wrist. “All of them.”
“And earrings. Oh my, they loaned you… everything.”
“It was a group effort.”
And then she reached up to above his head. “Your halo… it has returned.”
“Has it, then.”
“Indeed.”
“Ah, well. You found it and brought it back to me, haven’t you.” He brushed her lips with his own. “I told you, you are the Gift of Light.”
She shook her head at that, but he was glad that there was no argument from her as the household converged upon them, everyone hugging and clapping, the doggen breaking out from the dining room with silver trays of champagne flutes.
And then Vishous was standing in front of them, the brother’s icy white eyes narrowed. As usual. “I still hate your taste in TV.”
Lassiter shrugged with a grin. “That’s because you’re emotionally stunted. It’s okay, I love you anyway.”
The tic in that eyebrow next to the tattoos at his temple was so dang satisfying. “We’ll talk about mental health later. But I will say this, right now. I totally approve of your taste in females.” He bowed. “Rahvyn, he’s very lucky to have you.”
As the brother straightened, Lassiter nodded and looked down at his mate, who was positively glowing. “You know, V. That is one thing that you and I are always going to agree on.”
Other people came by, a receiving line forming, and some kind of toast was made. And then another. And then came passed trays of little bits of food and more champagne as the meal was getting ready to be presented in the dining room.
Over the course of so many centuries, Lassiter had heard the expression “such-and-such was a blur,” and he hadn’t truly understood what they meant. He did now. He knew that Rahvyn was with him, and everyone in the household was happy, and the champagne was cold, the hors d’oeuvres involved melted cheese and almonds on crackers as well as other things, and everybody was celebrating.
But like the details of the ceremony, so much of what was going on around him was lost.
Maybe the nuances would come back. And even if they didn’t, the night was… utterly unforgettable, even if only parts of it sunk in.
Just before they went in to take their seats at the table, Rahvyn tapped him on the arm. “Lassiter,” she whispered.
He bent down. “Yes?”
“Um… who are they?”
As his mate discreetly pointed to the corner of the foyer by the billiards room, he started laughing at the lineup of cardboard cutouts.
“They’re friends,” he said as he tucked her against his side. “And I’ll show you all about them later, I promise. You’re going to love them.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
The festivities went on for hours, and Rahvyn absorbed it all, learning names and faces, and eating and drinking in an outrageously luxurious dining room, and listening to the guitar player with the scarred face who was certainly a master of his instrument. But eventually, she could not hide her yawns, no matter how much she tried. Not wishing for Lassiter to have to leave their own party, she went into the room with all of the green felt tabletops, and found a leather couch with the perfect contours to curl up in.
Her borrowed gown, though formal and certainly the most beautiful thing she had ever worn, was surprisingly comfortable, the long, loose skirting allowing her to tuck her knees up, as her head turned to the side and became cradled in the sofa’s arm.
In the background, there was the curiously enchanting sound of billiard balls knocking and falling into pockets, and males and females talking, and she was aware of feeling so at peace—which was a surprise, given this was the First Family’s mansion—
“Come here,” Lassiter said, “let me pick you up.”
Her eyes fluttered open. “Oh, I did not mean to fall asleep—”
“I’ve got you.” His arms shifted under her, and then she was being lifted. “And I’m going to take us home.”
“I can wake up—”
“No, it’s the perfect time to go.” He raised his voice a little as he spoke with someone she did not track as her lids somehow weighed more than she could lift. “What?… Yes—oh, come on, you’re the ones we need to thank. Can you make our goodbyes? And we’ll be up in the Sanctuary… honeymoon, yup.”
She intended to tell him that she would be able to make her way around and express her gratitude to all and sundry—but every time she tried to open her eyes, things got even heavier.
The next thing she was aware of… was a whirling sensation, as if the world were spinning—and then came a tinkling sound. The fountain. In the white marble courtyard… with the fruit tree and the colonnade.
Forcing herself to rouse, she said, “We’re back.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Lassiter carried her into his private quarters and she smiled at the zebra-print accents. “Your decor… is so original.”
The double doors closed behind them, and the strange ambient light, which had no discernible source of which she was aware, dimmed.
“You know, it’s been called worse.” He laid her upon the bedding platform. “And I spared you a pink and black suit for the reception.”
“Pink and black?” She arranged herself against the pillows, her body languid. “How vivid.”
“Again, that’s a kind word.” He sat down on the mattress beside her and stroked her leg. “You okay? The ceremony is a little intense at the end and I know we didn’t talk about it.”
She nodded and returned unto the moment when his silver blood had flowed and he had borne the carving with utter bravery. “I am so honored. Although I am not sure I could have stood up on my own. Thankfully, Mae and Beth were there beside me.”
“Good. I wanted everything to be done right.”
When there was a pause, she smiled as she recognized what he wanted but would not ask for. “I am not that tired, you know.”
All at once, her hellren pounced on her, finding her mouth and kissing her deeply, his body settling on top of hers, pressing her down.
“I’ve wanted to do this all night,” he moaned as he nuzzled his way down her throat. “And this dress is fantastic—but it’s got to go.”
The zipper was on the side, and he zeroed in on it with such confidence, she knew he had been eyeing it and strategizing what it would take to get the thing down its track. As the bodice loosened, she sat up, but the skirt trapped things, so she had to lie back down. But then they couldn’t get the top off.
“Be of care,” she said. “This is the Queen’s—”
“How do we get this—”
“Here, I shall stand,” she suggested with a laugh.
Up on her feet, the dress flowed off her body and formed a pool that shimmered at her feet, and after she stepped out of its splendor, she was careful to pick it up and fold the shimmering weight. There was a white table in the corner and she laid the gown upon the top, so that it was not wrinkled.
“The females were so kind to me, and—”
The words froze in her throat. From across the way, Lassiter was staring at her with such intensity, he arrested her where she stood.
“Come to me,” he said in a guttural voice. “Shellan mine.”
She had worn a sleeveless shift beneath the gown, and nothing under that, and as she complied with his order, she was aware that the fabric was so fine, her body was visible unto him.
As soon as she was in range, his hands reached out and pulled her in, and he went right for her breasts, sucking on them through the silk’s fragile layer. The sensation was exquisite, especially as he switched to her other nipple and the wetness cooled and tightened her tip even further.
Sweeping her off her feet, he laid her down again, and between one blink and the next, all the gold upon him disappeared and reappeared beside the Queen’s beautiful gown.
“Will you turn about,” she whispered. “That I may see properly my name upon you?”
He pivoted, just as she had asked, and her breath caught. Stretching across his upper shoulders, in a subtle arc, were the symbols of her name, the scars already healing and leaving a clear imprint on his skin.
Lassiter looked back at her. “Is it good? It feels good. I mean, I don’t even care what it looks like.”
“It’s… the most beautiful thing I have e’er seen.”
The smile of his satisfaction was masculine pride made manifest, and he came at her anew, although this time he did not mount her. He went unto her feet and started kissing her ankle, and then her calf, just below the knee—and thus he continued upward, his hands moving the shift up as his mouth brushed over her skin.
She had a thought about where he might be heading.
And he did not disappoint. Spreading her legs, he stared at her sex. “I want to taste you.”
