Immortal Rider

“You sure about this?” Thanatos whispered in her ear, and as though Arik heard, he gave a single, slow nod.

If there had been any doubt before, it was gone.

“Yes,” she whispered back. “I’ve never been so sure about anything.”

Twenty-six

Regan hated weddings. Seriously hated them. Not only did she despise sitting through the boring-ass ceremony, she didn’t understand the point of spending a ton of money, mostly on other people, when the money could be better spent on a down payment for a house or for the honeymoon. Why start off a marriage in debt?

Especially when most marriages ended in divorce anyway. At least if you spent the money on the honeymoon, you’d have several days in a place you probably loved, even if it was with the a**hole you ended up divorcing.

People said she was cynical. A pessimist. She wasn’t. She was a realist.

But in this case, not a lot of planning had gone into the event, and the Horsemen seemed to have money to burn, and Regan hadn’t been required to dress up. Even better, this wasn’t your usual wedding ceremony. This was more like a big party, with supernatural beings as guests.

The great hall had been turned into a fantasy, lit with a thousand candles, fir trees draped in lights and tinsel, and confetti splashed on tables and shelves. In the kitchen, Than’s vampires and Ares and Limos’s servants were preparing hors d’oeuvres for the reception, which really was going to be a liquor-and-food fest.

That was assuming that the ceremony went off without a hitch.

Though the pre-wedding mood had been mostly uplifting, there had been an 0em" widthundercurrent of worry—enough that Sin and Lore had used their contacts to hire an entire den of assassins to act as security, and Cara had enlisted the help of several hellhounds to patrol the grounds. Only one was inside—a floppy-eared drooly pup named Hal that was clumsier than a drunken, three-legged moose. And actually, he might be drunk; Regan had caught him twice with his nose in the champagne fountain.

Then there was Thanatos, who definitely wasn’t drunk. The man was a study in grace and control as he stood near the stage where Limos and Arik were facing each other and saying their vows, his silky blond hair framing his angular face, the braids at the temple only adding to his savage handsomeness. His black tux stretched over thick shoulders and hugged his muscular butt and thighs in a fit so perfect it was clear the clothes had been tailored for him.

And with that gorgeous suit… he wore combat boots. Had he been anyone else, she’d have suspected he forgot to change his shoes, but no, not Thanatos. He was too detail-oriented and too careful. This was the man who, for hours prior to the ceremony, had prowled the keep like a tiger patrolling his territory, checking every nook and cranny twice, testing the guards’ weapons, and seeming to make a point of ignoring Regan. How the hell was she supposed to seduce a guy who had avoided her since their encounter in the gym, as if she’d given him a disease?

Oh, she’d caught him staring at her, the banked heat in his gaze searing her skin, but a moment later, the cold indifference would return, and he’d turn away with an air of arrogant dismissal.

The man was a puzzle. A dangerous, sexy puzzle. Over the last few days, she’d come upon him reading next to the fire, his fingers caressing a book as if it were a lover. The next time she saw him, he might be armored and bloody, and the very air around him would crackle like a brewing storm. He wouldn’t speak, never offered information freely, and his sense of humor was… odd.

Yes, Regan suffered from mild obsessive-compulsive issues, and she had a tendency to make sure all of the notes she took in his library were neatly arranged in stacks of twelve. But Than seemed to delight in moving a single page off one stack to another, just to drive her nuts. And she knew it was him, because the vampires denied touching her work, but the Horseman… he didn’t deny it. He’d simply watch her rail, one corner of his made-to-make-women-wet mouth twitching in a half-smile.

Peeling her gaze away from him, she returned her eye to their surroundings, because despite the massive security, Regan didn’t feel safe. Not when security was made up of demons, vampires, shapeshifters, and hellhounds. That was like, the opposite of safe for a Guardian. Someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned to find one of Thanatos’s vampires, Atrius, standing there with a bottle of what looked like wine.

“This is very rare mead,” he said. “Made by ex-monks who used their mead-making knowledge and blended it with supernatural magic.”

“And you’re telling me this… why?”

“It’s Thanatos’s favorite.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “And?”

“It’s a gift,” th a It’s Thae vampire said. “A thank you for improving Thanatos’s mood.”

She was pretty sure her eyes bugged out. “He’s been in a better mood since I arrived?” Jesus, what was he like when she wasn’t around?

“His mood swings have been greater,” the vampire admitted wryly, “but he’s smiled more lately than he has since he lost Reseph.”

“Huh. Okay, I guess.”

The guy grinned like she’d opened a vein for him. “I’ll put the wine in your bedroom. I would suggest, however, that you take no more than a couple of sips. It’s too strong for humans.”

“Thanks for the tip.” She wasn’t planning to drink any. He’d said the stuff was mixed with magic, and that could only be bad. But hey, if Thanatos liked it, he was welcome to it.

The vampire strode away, leaving her alone once again. Alone was something she was used to. Alone she liked.

Across the room, Thanatos turned, and his gaze drilled into her. All around them, people were laughing, hugging, holding hands. But not Thanatos. And not Regan.

In a room full of people, they were alone.

Good thing, she supposed, that she liked it.

The wedding was everything Limos had dreamed of. The funny thing was, as she stood before Arik in a room full of people and food and beautiful decorations, she didn’t notice any of it. Arik was her entire focus, her entire world. She’d repeated the words Idess had prompted her to say, and so had Arik, but the words that filled her with gooey warmth were the ones Arik tacked on to Idess’s mandatory, “I shall keep you as my wife, my mate, my desire.”

Arik had lowered his voice at the end and added, “My only desire.”

Idess reached for the athame and chalice on the altar next to her. With the ceremonial dagger, she sliced her thumb and caught the blood in the chalice.

“Hold out your hands.” Gently, she repeated the ritual with Arik and Limos, then swiped each of their cuts with some sort of herbal leaf. She held up the chalice. “Your blood will bind you, and by the blood of an angel no more, you will be married. Wet your lips, and then speak true.”

“Speak true?” Arik asked.

Idess inclined her head. “You must enter this union on a platform of truth. You will each reveal a secret of importance while your mate’s blood is on your lips. The bigger the secret, the stronger the marriage bond. A lie will burn, but a truth will… you’ll see. You may ask each other to divulge a specific truth, or you may choose to let the other decide for themselves what they want to reveal.”

Oh… God. Anxiety shot through Limos, tendrils of stinging panic that disoriented her and nearly had her armoring up and drawing a sword to comb swt they wanat whatever invisible enemy was attacking her body like this. How could this be part of a wedding ceremony?

Arik took the cup and, without hesitation, put it to his lips, his eyes intense, smoky, like a burning forest. When he brought the chalice away from his mouth, his lips glistened crimson.

“A truth,” he mused. “Is there anything you want to know?”

“The women,” she blurted. “You haven’t told me about them.”

“That’s because there are more than I’m proud of. And some… I don’t even remember.” An ache throbbed through her at Arik’s words, adding another layer of misery to her anxiety. She shouldn’t have asked. “Twenty, for sure, probably more. But I swear to you, there will never be another, and not one of those women could compare to you.” His voice went husky with emotion. “So that answers your question, but there’s something I want to tell you. I would let you take all those women from my memory if you wanted to. And that’s the most honest thing I’ve ever said.”

She nearly stopped breathing. That he would allow her to mess with his memories again, given how important not invading his mind was, was a huge admission of trust and commitment. Not that she would do it even if she could reach back that far and snip those threads. She would never touch his mind again. Her eyes stung, and emotion clogged her throat. How had she gotten so lucky with this man?

And dear God, how could she possibly ever deserve him?

He handed her the chalice, and her hands shook as she held it. He watched her expectantly. Everyone did. When the trembling grew so severe that she nearly dropped the chalice, Arik took her hands in his and gently guided the rim to her mouth.

“You can do this,” he whispered.

Warm wetness touched her lips and tongue, and on her shoulder, both sides of her scales dipped wildly. “Arik,” she rasped. “I… I…”

She should lie. Make something up. The compulsion to tell a whopper had her clenching her teeth. She wanted to lay the foundations for a strong bond, but so many people were around, and it was for them that she needed to spin a tale. She’d once stood before a crowd and fired them up with fantastic stories that had led to rebellion against their lord, every word making her drunk with pleasure. Even now, her breaths came faster, her blood flowed like a raging river, and lies swirled through her mind, fighting to be chosen—

“Hey.” Arik’s deep, soothing voice penetrated her panic, and she realized she’d been looking at everyone but him. “My eyes,” he said. “Look at me. I’m right here.”