Eli stepped out on the porch. Two security vamps, Thema and Kojo, took up posts on either end of the house.
Bruiser added, “And you have plenty of security.”
I stepped from the limo, muttering just loud enough for my honeybunch to hear. “Poor delicate little ol’ me, needing all you big strong fighting folk to protect me.”
Apparently, I still spoke loud enough for vamp ears. Thema made an indelicate snorting sound.
“Be safe, my love.”
“I promise.” I think we both knew I didn’t know how to be safe, but for this man I would try. Inside, I crashed and slept like a log, waking just in time to check on security protocols for Jodi and Wrassler’s formal nighttime wedding.
CHAPTER 14
He Made the Sign of the Cross, and No One Caught on Fire
I woke two hours before the wedding in half-form, which was unfortunate. I liked my half-form for battle or sparring, but not for fancy events with friends. I had wanted to be human-shaped for the wedding. Dang it.
Lying in the sheets, I called on Beast for help, but she ignored me.
Fortunately, I had no active part in Jodi and Wrassler’s wedding. I wasn’t a bridesmaid or groomsman, where my shape and pelt would call attention to me instead of the happy couple. I was a guest, which meant no one would be asking me to be all queenly, and that suited me perfectly. I could be a fly on the wall with no problem.
I got up and showered, did what few girly things I needed to in this form, and pulled on a robe and squishy slippers. Unexpectedly, without knocking, Quint was in my room giving orders. “Sit,” she said, and pointed to a small chair in the narrow bathroom. I sat, and she began to tell me what I needed to know about the big event. She started with the basics. “This is a white-tie wedding. White tie is also known as full evening dress. It’s the most formal, mosttraditional evening dress event in all of Western civilization. Put your hands down. I’m braiding your hair.”
I wasn’t used to being given orders, but Quint’s tone had me obeying. Instantly. It was eerily like the tone used by the house mothers at the Christian children’s home where I grew up. I sat, silent and unmoving, as she worked.
White tie weddingwas explained to me by Quint in excruciating detail as she braided my hair into ten differently sized and differently directed plaits. Though I hated someone I didn’t know touching my hair or braiding it, I would have to get used to it eventually. Might as well be tonight. I held in my sigh as she worked and tried to pay attention.
She was full of info on etiquette and protocol and theway things must be done. And she had said the words as if they were a title while clipping the braids into an elegant bun-type thing that I’d never have managed without her. Quint then applied my makeup, putting glittery stuff on my cheeks and mascara on my lashes. She painted my Beast-fingernails scarlet. Beast was purring at the attention. If I was honest with myself, it felt kinda nice to be fussed over. Not that I’d ever say it aloud.
While my nails dried, Quint began to pull evening wear from the closet, all made by Madame Melisende for this one event and brought here at some point over the last day or so. Because they hadn’t been there before.
Careful not to mess up her handiwork, I sat in the corner chair and let Quint display and describe dresses, and tried not to sigh a long suffering note. I hated clothes stuff. But after the first red scarlet silk dress, no matter what she said, I gave the same answer.
“Scarlet silk, cross shoulder, low back,” Quint said. “Slit up the leg so you can wear a thigh blade.”
“Currently, I’m pelted on my back, shoulders, and my upper legs. It will show something odd, improperly pelted, will ride up, and itch. No. Next.”
“Gold velvet, long-sleeved, bottomless pockets for reaching a weapon in a thigh rig.”
“Ditto. No.”
“Black silk—”
“Ditto. No.”
“Crimson sheath—”
“No.”
After the fifteenth dress, I said, “How many more do you have?”
“Your modiste created twenty-four dresses for you to choose from tonight.”
“Twenty—” I scowled at Quint. “Screw all that evening dress crap. With all the eating I’ve done in the last few days, I’ve put on a few pounds, all muscle, and my shoulders will make any dress look stupid. Same with the pelt. Everything will itch. Nope, nope, nope. No dress. Pull out my scarlet leathers.”
“Your majesty—”
“My Queen or Jane. I hate majesty.” I crossed my arms over my meager chest.
