Blade Bound

“My thoughts exactly,” my grandfather said. “Only a few short months ago, many of the men and women in this room were in very dire circumstances, including our groom. But fate is a crafty woman, and just as we have grieved at times in our recent past, so we have joy tonight, as these two brave and kind and stubborn individuals join together, stand together against fate’s future whims.” He smiled at the crowd. “Let’s help them seal that union in matrimony.”

He glanced at Ethan. “Do you, Ethan Sullivan, take Caroline Evelyn Merit to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this night forward, until death do you part? Again, I mean.”

The crowd chuckled, but Ethan’s expression was set and serious. “I do.”

“And will you love and honor her for all of your days, whether rich or poor, in sickness or in health, for as long as you may dwell on this earth?”

“I will.”

My grandfather nodded, turned his eyes to me. “And do you, Caroline Evelyn Merit, take Ethan Sullivan to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this night forward, until death do you part?”

I turned my gaze to Ethan, enjoyed that instant frisson of nerves in his eyes. Ethan, Master of Cadogan House, wanted me to seal the deal. It was easy enough to obey that one, as there wasn’t a doubt in my mind.

“I do.”

“And will you love and honor him for all of your days, whether rich or poor, in sickness or in health, for as long as you may dwell on this earth?”

“I will.”

My grandfather nodded. “You have the rings?”

We reached back to our dutiful assistants, who handed us the rings.

“Ethan, place the ring on Merit’s fourth finger.”

I glanced down, my lips parting as light glinted on the ring. It was a worn silver band, inscribed with a circle of forget-me-nots. An antique, but not the type you could buy in a store.

This had been my grandmother’s ring. Tears welled again, but refusing to cry, I looked up at my grandfather. He smiled at me, nodding.

He’d given the ring to Ethan for me because he wanted me to wear it, because I’d loved my grandmother with all my heart, and because he had, too.

“She’d want you to have it,” he said with a nod, his own eyes red rimmed.

My heart so full of love I feared it might burst, I looked back at Ethan, at my Master and warrior, who knew exactly how to honor what I’d known of love, and had generously agreed to share it here.

“Repeat after me,” my grandfather said. “I offer you this ring, Merit, as a symbol of my love and commitment.”

“I offer you this ring,” Ethan said, voice as clear as the emeralds of his eyes, “as a symbol of my eternal love and commitment.” He smiled at the addition and slid the ring onto my finger.

“Merit,” my grandfather prompted, and I opened my palm, showed Ethan the ring I’d had made for him.

It was a platinum band, inscribed with the tiny oak leaves of his original family crest, taken from the shield that still hung in the House’s training room.

“Well,” he said, emotion bare on his face. He looked up at me, awe shining in his eyes.

“Place the ring on the fourth finger of Ethan’s hand,” my grandfather said, and I slipped the ring onto his finger.

“And repeat after me: I offer you this ring, Ethan, as a symbol of my love and commitment.”

I looked up at him. “I offer you this ring, Ethan, as a symbol of my eternal love and commitment.” I slid the ring home.

My grandfather smiled. “By the power vested in me by the state of Illinois, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

Forever, Ethan said, just for me.

Forever, I agreed, and could all but feel his love, powerful and strong, like a blanket around us both.

My grandfather smiled, lifted his arms. “You may kiss the vampire.”

Ethan wasted no time. His eyes gleaming with power, with pride, he slid a hand around my neck and moved in for the kiss, which was powerful and deep, and singularly possessive.

Our family and friends stood, applauding and catcalling, but Ethan ignored them.

He let the kiss get just heated enough to singe before pulling back again.

The silver in his eyes glowed. “I love you,” he said. Mrs. Sullivan, he added in silence, just for me.

Mr. Merit, I offered back.

He smiled. You are mine and I am yours, whatever the titles.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” my grandfather said, “a Sentinel and her Master.”

“That works,” I whispered, as Mallory handed back my bouquet, Ethan took my hand, and the audience cheered.

Katherine and Thomas began their music. Together, we walked down the aisle, among friends and family and lumps of rose petals, and into our future.

• • •

The spare elegance my mother and Helen had managed for the service had been abandoned for the reception.

It was held on the other side of the divided space and featured a parquet dance floor and plenty of cocktail tables and round tables with seating, all of it draped with tropical flowers. There were pots of palm trees, birds-of-paradise in clear cylinders on every table, and floral swags hanging from the ceiling.

My mother insisted we not enter the reception proper until Shay had photographed us in every possible position around the exterior of the room with every possible group of individuals. Family groups, friend groups, House groups, business associate groups. (A ticket to the Merit-Sullivan wedding was apparently a hot one.)

You spared no expense, I silently said, smiling as Ethan shook the hand of one of my father’s business associates. He’d paid for the bulk of the wedding from his own personal savings.

You’re worth it, he said.

When every photographic box had been checked, Shay released us, and the leader of the band stepped to the microphone.

“I am thrilled to present, for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Ethan Sullivan!” He hadn’t gotten the naming memo, but then, he also probably hadn’t played a wedding for supernatural creatures who didn’t generally use last names. We were a particular bunch.

We’d survived the wedding and made it to the reception. For the first time, I felt myself relax. Felt that knot of tension in my gut finally loosen.

Vampires came forward. They came to pay homage to Ethan, to greet and congratulate us. Nicole Heart, with dark skin and serious eyes, hair waving gently at her bare shoulders in a dress of pale peach. Morgan Greer, head of Chicago’s Navarre House, with pale skin, dark hair, and dreamily good looks.

There were more Masters, more humans, more captains of finance, industry, and academia whom Ethan had come to know in his many years as a vampire. Supernaturals of most peaceful varieties, which left a few humans staring at the nymphs, trolls, and broad-shouldered shifters.

Saxophones filled the air, and the singer did a pretty good impression of Al Green as he began to croon “Let’s Stay Together.”

Ethan held out his hand, crooked his finger to beckon me forward. Need I call you, Sentinel?

I grinned at him. Why don’t we save that for the honeymoon? I offered my hand, and he pulled me against the long, hard line of his body, to the enjoyment of the crowd, which hooted in appreciation.

One of his hands in mine, the other at the small of my back, we swayed to the music while the crowd watched.

The happiness in the room was literally palpable, magic bubbling into the air from supernaturals who nursed champagne, chatted and caught up, or otherwise enjoyed a good party.

“It looks like everyone’s having a good time,” I told him.

“I believe you’re right,” Ethan said, and, when I looked back at him, tipped up my chin for a kiss. He got catcalls for the effort that I’m pretty sure came from Luc’s direction.

I love you, he said. Truly, madly, fiercely. So much that I’m nearly drunk with it.

Part of that may be the very good champagne, I said. The French may make irritating vampires, but they make very good bubbles.

Ethan smiled. So they do.

And I love you, too. And I think you will very much enjoy the trousseau I’ve put together later.

His brows lifted with interest. I’m enjoying even knowing that it exists.

Just you wait, I said, and gave him a wink.