“Holy crap. He—” I stopped. Thought. Gathered up the dress, all those mega-yards of silk, V-necked, fancy, with pointed sleeves to my fingertips, and pearls and faceted gems and glittery stuff all over it. Yeah, my wedding could have been much worse. Deon had saved me that. “Thank God I have you in my life.”
“Then stop being so impossible, and making everyone’s lives miserable.” He turned around and hugged me. Hard. Grabbed the dress from my hands and left the room with a defiant strut that matched the heels.
I was an ass.
???
There are a dozen reasons to get married. Maybe hundreds. It’s supposed to be a big deal, people getting hitched, living together, facing all life throws at them. But my Sweet Cheeks and I have been doing all that for years, and we had survived everything the supernat, paranormal world had thrown at us. Everything from witches, to invading fangheads, to vamp wars in Europe to . . . deaths of people we loved. That was the hardest. I freaking hated to have lost people. Deep in my shapeshifting little catty heart, in the depths of my soul, I believed that my one goal in life was to keep my people safe, alive, healthy, and happy. Failure? Tore me to shreds.
I had planned torun awayfor our private, solo elopement wedding. That had been stolen and replaced with a party, by the people I had saved, people who had becomefamily. This wasn’t a political party. Not a coronation. Not a blood-drinking reception for the world’s fangy-powerful. Just family. Just for them. And where in all that was holy had I gotten so many people who werefamily?
I stripped out of the smoother undergarment and redressed in the politically appropriate slim black pants, gold shirt, and black jacket, with a vamp-killer strapped to my left thigh just for funzies since I’d never be allowed to defend myself again, and left the fitting room in NOLA vamp central. My security team fell in behind me, escorting me to the line of armored SUVs and the away-security team awaiting me. NOLA was always dangerous, but for a different reason lately. I went nowhere alone because two human gangs had moved in and had been terrorizing the city.
The local vamps hadn’t taken well to their cattle (what vamps called their blood-donor humans) being terrorized and,over the last few winter nights, had gone to battle. The gang members’ headquarters had been located and the members drank down to anemia, outright killed, or had been run out of town by vamps on the hunt.
Even with the vamps “protecting” New Orleans, life was still not easy in the Party City of the nation. The homeless problem, the departing tax base, and the poorly run and managed city services were driving people away. All that unrest and crime meant I was never alone on the way to or from work. I hadn’t ridden my motorbike in weeks. Maybe months. Bitsa, my bastard Harley, was languishing on the side veranda at the freebie house—the queen’s unofficial residence, since I refused to consider vamp central my permanent home.
As I walked toward HQ’s back entrance, taking the long way via the stairs, I nodded to the few vamps awake this early in the evening, smiled at the humans. Being seen. Thinking about my attitude.
I was ill-tempered and everyone knew it. They all knew I was not happy about my wedding day plans, which meant I was ruining life for them all. But . . . A wedding was supposed to be the epitome of all my dreams come true.
I almost came to a stop.Dreams come true?
Wait. I was internally moaning over my wedding like a . . . Like agirl.Crap. I thought back over the dress fitting, my bad temper, and whiney attitude. When did I become agirl?
Still feeling sour, I climbed into the vehicle and sat in the back seat like some little old lady, and strapped in. The other door opened and a woman slid in.
“Hey, Aunt Jane.”
Shiloh. Shiloh Everhart Stone. She wasn’t my godchild. She wasn’t my niece. Her witch-mother had hated me and never let me spend time with her. When Shiloh reappeared as a witch vamp, turned against her will then set loose upon the world,Shiloh herself hadn’t been overly interested in hanging around me either, other than accepting a place in my vampire blood clan to keep herself and her blood family safe. Maybe the distance between us had something to do with the fact that I’d killed Shiloh’s mother when the stupid witch summoned a demon and started killing people.
I was her mother’s killer.
I remembered, even after nearly two hundred years, what losing a parent felt like.
I strapped in. The vehicle pulled away from the porte cochère and into the street.
I thought about Shiloh, sitting beside me. Silent. Staring straight ahead. Unblinking. Unbreathing as a statue. She had called meAunt Jane. Not my queen. Not my lady. Not my mistress. In any of those contexts I’d have to give her leave to speak, which was stupid but all kinds of political and royal protocol was being put in place to create a layer of safety between me and the urgent, desperate demands of petitioners, the violent and deranged, what was left of the violent gangs, and the average drunken Joe in town hoping to get selfies with NOLA’s Dark Queen.
So, this was personal. Personal conversations were supposed to be easier.
Shiloh . . . Shiloh was playing a waiting game. She wanted me to ask her what she wanted. I closed my eyes, stretched out my legs, dropped my head back, and breathed out softly. I’m a cat. The soul of a puma concolor lives inside me, well twined with mine. Cats are excellent at playing waiting games. Besides, it was barely dusk in the darkest part of the year, so Shiloh would be jumpy and itchy. I had all the advantages.
Minutes went by in silence as the three vehicle motorcade merged into the crawl of traffic.
I couldn’t see her, but I could smell her frustration, feel her tension through the seat cushions, a minuscule vibration. Horns honked and our driver slammed on brakes. Shiloh hadn’t strapped in and if she hadn’t had vamp reflexes, she’d have broken her nose on the driver’s seat. I let a tiny smile on my face as her seatbelt clicked into place.
“I have a favor to ask of . . .” She stopped.
I let my smile widen. My Beast was enjoying this game.
She blew out a breath that she didn’t need. “You aren’t making this easy.”
I didn’t reply.
“What are we to each other?”
Pedantically, I said, “You are my scion in Clan Yellowrock, my scion as your queen, you are the cousin of my godchildren, and the niece of my best friend. Beyond that, you never wanted more from me.”
