Page 49 of Wolf Bane (Marked #3)

Chapter Twenty-One

T hursdays were a good day to get married, I decided. Everyone had either taken the day off work or, as was the case for Reba, Gina Perrin, and myself, didn’t have work to go to that day.

Which… okay, that sucked but I had high hopes things would be improving soon. Mostly.

Cullen had been a bit tight-lipped about things, but I knew now, better than ever before, that he actually was on our side and not just the ICW’s puppet.

Still, even knowing that, Ethan hadn’t looped him into the situation with the Lugaru weres.

He and Benoit had had a few phone calls, even more video chats, some very rapid-fire email exchanges, and were…

well, not on their way to healing a rift by a long shot but tentatively agreeing to work together for the time being.

It apparently took a shit-ton of paperwork and arcane ceremony to start your own clan and neither of them felt favorably towards dealing with that level of headache for the time being.

That didn’t stop Ethan from trying to ‘make things right’ for Benoit and his people.

The only problem was, there was no telling what making it right looked like.

Benoit and his clan didn’t want to reunify with the Belmarais bunch, but they didn’t want to be ignored either.

So, for now, it meant a lot of talking, a lot of feeling each other out and posturing.

I’d had a few calls with Zero, who was slowly creeping back to their version of normal.

They were one of the lucky ones who seemed to be recovering from the virus, but it wasn’t linear as far as we could tell.

And until there was a definitive treatment, we just had to cross our fingers and spit in our hats that they’d continue to improve.

And nobody was talking about Daniel at all.

Still, I couldn’t help feeling like this was all a razor-thin ledge we were on, and it was about to crumble. Not any sixth sense, just knowing my history and how the universe liked to fuck with me.

Gina Perrin wandered over to us, her hair an elegant twist of braids and wearing a dress that made her look like a storybook princess with buttery yellow layers of sheer fabric over a sky-blue sheath. “You’re too fancy for us,” I said as she drew nearer. “I feel under-dressed.”

She grinned. “After this past week, I wanted to feel nice and look nice,” she said, smoothing her hands over the frilly layers of her dress. “And you’re looking sharp yourself, Landry. You and Ethan both.”

Ethan preened a little in his good dark blue suit. “I clean up good when I’m not in the middle of a life-altering crisis.”

Both of them looked at me. I just shrugged. “I’m usually the cause of the life-altering crisis. But I still look good anyway.”

Gina Perrin rolled her eyes. “You two were made for each other.” She glanced past me, her grin widening. “Reba’s here. Looks like she brought another metric ton of peanut brittle. I should go help take some off her hands.”

Gina (it really was easier just to say Gina, but I didn’t want her to think I was getting complacent) hustled across the lawn towards Reba and Reba’s partner Chester, rarely seen and even more rarely heard, to help take a few boxes of her specialty brittle before they toppled from the stack they were both carrying.

Reba exclaimed over Gina’s dress and Chester just nodded as the three of them disappeared into the house with the boxes, reappearing a minute or so later with bottles of soda and, for Reba, a beer.

“Look, Uncle Landry! Look, look, look!” Mariska’s spiraling spin took her perilously close to the edge of the back porch where Mal swooped in and snatched her up before she could tumble into the heavy concrete planters full of Ethan’s marigolds. “Dad! I had it!”

“Yes, and you almost very nearly had a concussion to boot. Come on, let’s go find your shoes so we can get going.”

That was a sufficient enough enticement for Mariska; she had brand new Mary Janes that were not only silver but sparkly to boot, covered in some sort of holographic glitter stuff that miraculously did not shed all over the place.

Ethan slipped up beside me, his arm warm and sure across my lower back as he bent to kiss me just behind my ear. “I gave ‘em a heavy-duty coating of Krylon sealant two days ago,” he informed me. “That glitter’s not going anywhere.”

I watched Mal carrying his daughter on one hip while she waved her arms, telling him all about something no doubt related to the adventures of Pretty Pegasus Unicorn Force Sparkle Pony Monster Truck Rally or whatever that show was called. “She’s really taken to living here.”

Ethan grunted softly in agreement. “So have you.”

“Huh?”

He turned me in his arms, so I was looking up at him, his eyes crinkled just a tiny bit at the corners with the smile just starting to tease his lips.

“You were poised like a bird ready to take off for so long, Landry. I was sure I’d wake up one morning and you’d be gone. If not physically, then up here,” he tapped my temple gently. “Ready to just get the fuck out of Dodge.”

“Well, yeah… that’s not untrue,” I muttered. His ensuing tickle was enough to make me shriek, startling Tyler and Justin from their bent-headed conversation near Ethan’s prized barbecue grill.

“Careful,” Ethan called out. “You break it, I’m gonna take that out of your hide.”

Justin’s eyes were wide and startled, but Tyler just flipped him off. “Blood is thicker than barbecue, bro.”

Ethan slipped away to gripe at Tyler about endangering his baby, Justin edging closer to Tyler, and for the first time in a long time, getting involved in some good-natured ribbing.

He was still weak but definitely improving, slowly rebuilding himself and figuring out who he was not just because of everything that had been done to him, but everything he’d hidden away from.

Gina Perrin really knew her stuff.

“A moment, Landry?”

Cullen’s low tones pulled me from my little reverie, watching the handful of people in my backyard being happy and whole.

Ugh, I was turning into a sap as I rocketed towards middle age.

Cullen inclined his head towards the open back door, letting in some of the late autumn warmth. “After you,” I murmured, mirroring his gesture and followed him back into my kitchen, raising a brow as he shut the door behind us.

“As you know, things are rather undefined right now with regards to your standing in the council’s graces,” he began without preamble.

“However, as a wedding gift to you, I have entered my formal recommendation that they allow you a voice in community proceedings, particularly regarding health matters.”

I was legitimately touched and more than a little surprised but judging by the uncomfortable way Cullen was looking anywhere but at me and keeping himself still and stiff to avoid giving any mistaken signal that he might enjoy a handshake or even a friendly slap on the shoulder, I just nodded.

“Did it hurt?” I asked. “Being nice to me? Do you need a cold compress, maybe some painkillers?”

Cullen relaxed fractionally—I’d made the right call, snarking at him—and rolled his eyes. “No thank you. I shall somehow manage to persevere.” But, just for a second, not even a full second really, his lips quirked at the corner and that man smiled at me.

Jesus.

Maybe I really had died in the fire, and this was some weird afterlife situation.

Then Ethan’s booming laugh and Tyler’s squawk of protest erupted in the backyard, Mariska’s high-pitched giggles underscoring whatever they were doing out there that would likely end in someone getting their nice clothes dirty and a bruise somewhere obvious.

If I was dead and this was what came after, maybe it wasn’t so bad.

The wedding was small and a little awkward, the justice of the peace first fumbling and fuming over two men ( I thought Landry was a girl’s name!) before getting with the program and smoothing over his embarrassment with effusive compliments on our attire (apparently, off the rack suits from the mid-2000s were fetching ) and how sparkly Mariska’s shoes were, a few jokes that landed heavily on the side of sexist, then finally he started the official part of things.

It was… beautiful. Amazing. Weird. Kinda weird. I was getting married to Ethan Stone . My inner teenaged Landry was losing his shit.

As the justice read the dry words and we declared our intent, I stared up at Ethan’s familiar features, only a little surprised to see his eyes shining with tears. Mine were, too.

The entire ceremony was less than twenty minutes, even including the justice’s startled rambling when he realized he was marrying two men.

After, it felt otherworldly stepping into the mid-autumn sunshine.

“We’re married,” Ethan said happily, squeezing my fingers on the justice building’s steps. “ Married !”

“I was there, I know,” I teased, leaning into him. His heart thumped solidly beneath my cheek, the heat of his body seeping through the slight chill in the air. “Holy shit, right?”

Ethan chuckled. “Maybe I should get that engraved on our rings.”

We both eyed our silver bands, purchased from a shop in Dallas just two days before when Ethan suddenly remembered we should have rings.

“I want everyone to know,” he’d whispered sleepily in the predawn hours, snuffling my hair as he pulled me to his chest. He’d gone to Dallas to get rings a few hours later, leaving me to call our friends and let them know we were getting married in just a week or so, save a date and we’d figure it out.

Now here we were.

Married.

Married on the steps of the county justice building, the certificate clutched in my left hand, Ethan’s hand in my right.

Mariska zoomed and danced around the steps while Mal did his level best not to chase her, to let her just be a kid without a helicopter dad.

Waltrip was helping, keeping one hand firmly on Mal’s back, his cheeks a little pink as he did his level best not to let on that he knew we knew.