Chapter 9: Marital Blech

REYNA

“Where do you even find a priest in the middle of the fucking ocean?” I shouted, pacing back and forth in the living room.

Blaire had gone to ~freshen up~, and while I had my father alone, I was going to knock some sense into him.

Get his head examined.

Check him for alien earworms.

Exorcise whatever demon was inhabiting his body.

Because he needed a ~really~ fucking good explanation for getting married to a complete stranger on a cruise ship without even discussing it with his daughters.

“Reyna, I’m sorry, but we’re just in love,” he said, smiling like he was smelling invisible roses.

~Okay, so it turns out he doesn’t have a good explanation.~

~He’s just certifiable.~

Anya wasn’t faring much better than me. She anxiously ran her fingers through her hair as she looked at our father in disbelief. “Dad, don’t you see that this is crazy? What do you even know about this woman?”

“I know that she’ll make the perfect wife,” he replied emphatically. “And an even more perfect stepmom.”

I stopped in my tracks and scoffed. “There is no way in hell that I will ever call that woman anything with the word ~mom~ in it.”

“Reyna, can you just try to get along with her? For me? She makes me happy,” Dad said so genuinely that it made me feel guilty.

~No, I have no reason to feel guilty. This woman isn’t to be trusted.~

~Dad might be easily manipulated, but there’s no way that woman isn’t using him.~

“She probably just wants our money!” I blurted out.

“Oh, darling, I have no need for money,” Blaire said, slithering into the room with a smirk on her lips. “My late husband left me quite comfortable.”

“~Late~ husband?” I said suspiciously.

~This bitch is probably some sort of black widow, offing rich men and taking their fortunes.~

“Reyna, don’t be rude,” Dad said, admonishing me.

“It’s quite alright, Marty,” she purred as she sat in his lap.

~Marty? Ew.~

“He died in a tragic fire at one of his factories,” she said, trying to squeeze some moisture from her arid tear ducts.

~And I bet you lit the match.~

“We both found that we’ve had a lot of shared life experiences,” Dad said, putting his arms around her waist. “We just connected on so many levels. Marriage was the logical next step.”

Dad’s brand of ~logic~ was making my head hurt.

As I watched Blaire and my father cuddle and laugh and act like they’d known each other for years, I pursed my lips and started texting Anya across the room.

Reyna

What the hell are we going to do about this?

Anya

what CAN we do rey?

Anya

it’s not like we can stop the wedding

Anya

👰

Anya

💍

Anya

😟

Anya

they’re already married

Reyna

Doesn’t mean I’m going to just act like I’m okay with this

Reyna

LOOK at them

Reyna

Something about this is so off

I knew I should’ve been happy for my dad, but this just didn’t feel right to me.

Blaire was ~too~ perfect.

~And you know what they say about things that are too good to be true…~

EVE

Reyna was getting better and better at the physical portions of our training.

Defensive tactics.

Weapons wielding.

Hand-to-hand combat.

But one area where she still needed a lot of work was her mental resistance.

As a vampire, she would need to have an especially strong mind to deal with the lifestyle that she’d be forced to embrace.

We sat across from each other in a quiet room, our eyes closed, and our legs crossed.

“Stay focused,” I said. “Meditation is a huge part of learning control over your mind.”

Reyna fidgeted and breathed heavily. It was clear that she wasn’t in control at all.

Something was bothering her.

“What’s going on?” I asked. I didn’t want to play therapist, but whatever her issue was, it was getting in the way of our training session.

“Nothing,” she replied in a short tone. “Stop talking. You’re distracting me.”

“Control your emotions Reyna. Others will use them against you.”

“Oh my God, EVE. How am I supposed to meditate when you’re yammering in my ear,” she said irritably.

~Well, I tried doing it the nice way. That was a mistake. I don’t have time to be Sigmund fucking Freud.~

If Reyna wasn’t going to open up, I’d just have to get answers another way.

~The vampire way.~

I entered Reyna’s mind, and just as I expected, she was nowhere near focused enough to block me. It only took a moment to find out what was bothering her so much…

I opened my eyes and shot up. “Your father did ~WHAT!?~”

***

Raphael knocked repeatedly on the Morgan’s front door as we waited impatiently.

Finally, the door swung open. There she was in all her plastic perfection, exactly as Reyna had described.

The new Mrs. Morgan.

She almost looked like she had been expecting us.

“You must be Eve!” she said cheerily, pulling us through the door. “Martin’s told me so much about you.”

“Funny, because we know nothing about ~you~,” I said, shooting Raphael a look.

As soon as I’d found out that Martin had brought a stranger into Lumen, I had told Raphael, and we both agreed she needed to be checked out.

“And it’s such an honor to have the Alpha of the Millennium in my home,” she gushed.

~She’s been here for twenty-four hours and this place is already hers, huh?~

“Martin! We have guests!” Blaire yelled up the stairs.

It looked like nearly the whole house had already been redecorated. This woman moved fast.

~I guess she did get married on a cruise after all…~

But I had to admit, the decor was in good taste. The house certainly looked better than it had before.

Martin came down the stairs wearing faded jeans and a salmon-colored, button-down shirt. He looked sharp. Sharper than I’d ever seen him.

“Welcome!” he said, shaking Raphael’s hand and giving me a hug. “What do you think of the new place? Blaire’s a natural at decorating.”

~And probably at spending too.~

“All I can say is…wow,” I said, truthfully.

Martin ushered us into the den, and we sat down. “I’ll go grab some tea,” Blaire said, leaving the three of us alone.

Raphael cleared his throat awkwardly.

Martin’s family had been a big financial help to Lumen and the West Coast Pack, but bringing a stranger into this house, after everything we’d been through, was simply unsafe.

We needed to make sure Martin understood what he was risking.

Though by looking at how happy he was…maybe it was worth it?

“Do you know why we’re here?” Raphael asked gruffly.

“To catch up?” Martin responded, clueless as usual.

“Martin…there are safety issues…proper protocols that have to be followed,” Raphael said as Martin’s face started to fall.

“Wait, this is about Blaire? You don’t want her here?”

“No, Martin, she seems lovely,” I said, even though I didn’t know her any better than the new potted plant in the corner. “We just want to make sure that you’re thinking about all sides of this.”

“If I remember correctly, Eve, it wasn’t long ago that you came into this city, with the intention of killing Raphael no less, and you were welcomed under my roof with very few questions asked,” Martin said with surprising confidence.

I was at a loss for words. I never expected Martin of all people to stand up for himself.

To make matters worse, he wasn’t wrong.

“Martin, you have to admit that this looks like a rash decision that you haven’t thought through,” Raphael said, trying to get our intervention back on track. “How can you possibly be in love with someone that you met on a cruise?”

“No offense, Raphael, but I don’t think I’ll take love life advice from you,” Martin retorted. “As an Alpha, you fucked your way through thousands of women before you got together with Eve. Maybe tens of thousands. You’re pretty fucking old.” He leaned back and crossed his legs.

Raphael’s jaw dropped open. I don’t think anyone had ever talked to him like that, let alone this schlumpy, middle-aged human.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I didn’t like reminders of Raphael’s sexual history.

“Bottom line, I give ridiculous sums of money to this pack to keep it going,” Martin said. “I think I can make my own decision when it comes to my wife—or if you’d rather, ~mate.~”

Raphael and I looked at one another in utter bewilderment.

If this woman inspired such confidence in Martin, maybe she wasn’t so bad after all.

***

Raphael and I returned home to the pack house, not quite sure if our visit with Martin had gone well or not. The whole thing was a bit disorienting.

We both agreed that the new confidence was nice, but we’d still need to keep an eye on him and make sure that this didn’t blow up in his face.

“All I know is that I need a bottle of wine and a nice, relaxing evening,” I said as we walked into the entrance hall.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Raphael said, loosening his tie.

“Well, I’m afraid that relaxing evening will have to happen another night,” said a familiar voice.

I whipped around to see Killian leaning up against the bannister.

“You’re back!” I shouted in excitement. But given the expression on his face, I tempered my excitement immediately.

“What news do you bring?” Raphael asked, grimacing.

“Let’s put it this way,” Killian said, approaching us apprehensively. “You won’t want a bottle of wine…”

“…but you’ll ~need~ a bottle of whiskey.”