Losing Myself in You (17 page)

Marcus Sterling was not known for being nervous in any type of situation. But there he was, waiting by the Elders, continuing to glance down the aisle. The backyard of the manor he lived in with his wolf pack had been transformed into what one might expect at a church on the day of a wedding to resemble. This was not a church; it was a backyard that intermingled with the surrounding forest. Spring was touching everything, from the richness of the grass to the colorful flowers, to sunny disposition of the sky. The scent of pollen filled the werewolves' senses, and if beauty had a smell, surely this would be it.

"Calm down, Marcus,"
Razi said, shooting him a look. She was dressed in a sharp, pink pantsuit, her dark hair pulled up into its usual bun. "I don't have any idea as to why you're nervous. The two of you both agreed to get married. It's not like she's going to suddenly change her mind."

Marcus shot
Razi a warning look and Thane quickly interjected, clearing his throat while placing a hand on the small of Razi's back. "When we were married, Razi, I was just as nervous as Marcus," he explained.

"I don't understand why,"
Razi murmured under her breath, clearly not satisfied with this particular answer. She turned to study Marcus for a moment, making sure that everything was in place.

Marcus looked incredibly handsome. He was wearing a typical black and white tuxedo that was custom made especially for him. His hair was still wild, his sideburns still long, but besides that, he had shaved the whiskers from his cheeks. His hands were clasped together, resting in front of him, and though he tried to stop himself from doing so, his hazel eyes darted back and forth, wondering where Bridgette was going to come in, and when
his wedding would finally take place.

To distract himself, he decided to look out at those sitting on both sides of the center aisle. His brother, Gerard, should be here with him. It still upset Marcus to think about what had happened, but he didn't regret banning Gerard from the pack. Things never turned out the way one planned, it would seem…

Take Bridgette for instance. Marcus had no idea he would even feel something comparable to the way he felt about the young woman who currently held his heart in her hand. He never thought he would experience such a bout of emotion in the first place, let alone for a former agent of the Nocturnal Defense Society. And yet here he was, impatiently waiting for her arrival in hopes that they could get married as soon as possible. Marcus had always known it was his duty to choose a mate, breed, and keep his bloodline going, but he never thought it was possible that he was actually looking forward to spending the rest of his life with someone. If it was anyone but Bridgette, he highly doubted he would feel the same.

There was just something about her that allowed her to bury herself underneath his skin. It was as though Fate had worked
behind the scenes to ensure Bridgette was strong enough to survive her Change, to ensure that he picked her out of everybody so when he did finally select her, it felt as though he had no choice in the matter. That's what he had felt, at least, when he had first smelled her, seen her, and when he had towered over her.  He
couldn't help but nip her neck. He needed to see his mark on her throat. He needed to inject himself into her without knowing that she would transform into a werewolf herself.

But now he was grateful for everything that had happened. When Marcus had been going through
his issues, he didn't understand the reasoning behind it all, but now…

Suddenly, he saw a flash of auburn
hair take a seat in back of his right side. Marcus’ eyes narrowed in her direction; that was Abigail, finally taking her seat. He knew Abigail was helping Bridgette get ready, but now that she was here, did that mean Bridgette was finally finished?

Before he could think more on it, a beautiful, familiar tune started playing, causing the audience to go quiet and Marcus to stiffen. This was the infamous
Bridal March
, and it was being played by a grand piano rather than an organ. Instead of feeling ominous, the music began to calm him down, and his eyes fixated on the aisle. Soon, Bridgette would be walking down there. Soon they would exchange their vows, and soon, they would be married.

L
ike a vision, she was there. She was wearing a long veil, and her red hair was curled and pinned up into a formal bun. Her makeup was light but enhancing, and as she started to walk down the aisle, her eyes only paid attention to Marcus’. She bit her bottom lip – a nervous gesture he recognized – and he offered her an encouraging smile. She looked so incredibly wonderful; Marcus was, for a long moment, stupefied. Her dress embodied the perfect amount of classy and sexy. The dress was a halter with a heart-shaped cup. The cleavage she revealed was tasteful, and the gown cinched at the waist before flowing down past her ankles. Abigail was up again, holding the train of her dress and watching the woman who would in moments become her queen
walk to the man she loved.

When she reached the altar, Bridgette handed Abigail the bouquet of flowers she was holding before turning to Marcus and mouthing the word, "Hi," to him.

Marcus grinned at her and took her hands within his before mouthing the same word back. Suddenly, his nervousness had disappeared. All that mattered was the woman in front of him, and the fact that he would be getting married to her in mere moments.

The ceremony itself was absolutely beautiful. Thane began the introductions to the wedding itself while
Razi actually married the two. They recited personal vows that they had made themselves and even managed to kiss just as the sun started to set. When Marcus pressed his lips against Bridgette's, something inside of him flared up. However, it wasn't due to physical desire (though there was no doubt that he constantly responded in such a way to her) but rather, what he felt for her caused him to love her even more. His lips pressed gently against hers, and her gentle hands clutched his cheeks as she responded. For a soft kiss, it was rather passionate but far from inappropriate.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am honored to be the first person to present to you, King Marcus Sterling, and his Queen, Bridgette Sterling!"
Razi exclaimed, and the audience threw their hands up and let out a long howl.

Bridgette's eyes were filling with tears, but she tried to suppress them as best as she could because she didn't want to ruin her makeup. Marcus was grinning wolfishly at what had just taken place – he was married now to the woman he loved. The feeling continued to burn through him as he picked Bridgette up in his arms and spun her around, throwing his head back and laughing
. His laughter was contagious and it wasn’t long before she joined in.

Because Marcus Sterling was an Alpha male, there would be no honeymoon. It was necessary to stay close to his pack unless anyone was in danger and needed leadership, but Bridgette didn't mind.

"Come," Marcus whispered in her ear as he set her down. "There's just one more thing we need to do before we follow the crowd to the reception."

Bridgette said nothing, but arched her brow, trying to figure out just what Marcus was hiding from her. His lips curled into a smirk, and Bridgette realized she probably wasn't going to
get any information out of him until they were already there. It was the tree Marcus had showed her before, with the initials of his parents encompassed in a heart. Her eyes widened slightly, and he glanced at him, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

"This is a private tradition between kings and their queens," he explained in his normal gravelly voice. "It symbolizes that love is immortal and that if love is strong enough, it can and will live forever. I saw it happen with my parents and I feel it with you." He placed a hand on the tree itself and looked at it with a rare fondness. "We have no idea how long trees live without some kind of force tearing it down, whether it was something natural like a storm or something caused by man like deforestation. Personally, I believe they can live hundreds, maybe even thousands of years. And I believe our love will last even longer."

Bridgette felt the tears now flowing freely with absolute happiness, her makeup be damned. She watched as Marcus took out a pocketknife and began to carve their initials underneath his parents' heart. When he finished, he handed Bridgette the knife, and she realized he wanted her to carve out the heart. She took the knife and as best as she could, finished what he started.

"Forever," Marcus murmured, wrapping his arm around her shoulder as he placed an intimate kiss on the top of her head.

"Forever," Bridgette agreed, staring at their heart and their initials.

They would live together forever in the oak of that tree.

To my family – my Mom – especially those of you who encouraged my writing.

To Alsh Lee, my wonderful, amazing beta.  You make me a better writer.  This wouldn’t be as great as it is without you.  If you’re interested in acquiring her beta services, feel free to visit her beta page on FictionPress here: https://www.fictionpress.com/u/966247/AlshLee

To Katya
Sarrai, my talented cover designer.  You are so sweet, professional and creative.  I am so blessed to be working with you.  If you’re interested in working with her, check out her website here for contact information: http://www.katyasarria.com/

To all my readers and reviewers of this story when it was published on
Fictionpress.  Without you, this story would not have gone anywhere.

To all my new readers who pick this book up: thank you for giving me a chance and I sincerely hope you enjoy this journey.

To my husband, Frank – thanks for everything.  Thanks for taking me and what I do seriously.  Thank you for your unwavering support.  I wouldn’t be where I am without you.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.  You make me a better person.  You make me want to be greater than I am.  I love you.

And now, a preview to the next novel in the Somerset series,

Until You’re Mine

which will be released August 25, 2014

Elizabeth Grant had never been and never would
ever be a smoker, but there were times when she wished she was because her job was extremely stressful.  It wasn’t so much of what she actually did, but the waiting that did her in.  She liked to be active, to have something to do. She was currently sitting at an outdoor café, sipping a glass of strawberry lemonade, her forest green eyes hidden behind a chic pair of dark sunglasses. She was wearing tight black pants with knee high boots over them, and a black tank top underneath a denim jacket. Her wavy blonde hair tumbled down her shoulders, and she ran her fingers through the untamable strands, staring at her cell phone, as if that could make it would ring faster. But alas, she was having no such luck.

Elizabeth – Lizzie, she preferred -
worked for the Nocturnal Defense Society, which was a government agency that specialized in maintaining and enforcing equality between humans, vampires, and werewolves. Her job was that of an assassin, and she was damn good at it. When her boss needed her to take out a high profile leader, she did it in under twenty-four hours. Whether it was someone from humanity, werewolf society, or vampire society – it didn't matter. Whatever they needed, she did it, and usually, without question.  It was her job, after all; it paid the bills.

In her occupation, she only had a couple of ground rules that
were important when handling any particular case: First and foremost, those she did take out had to be guilty. None of the reasonable doubt bullshit; there had to be irrefutable evidence against any particular target. Secondly, she liked to work alone. She didn't want to be responsible for somebody else, and she didn't want to grow attached to someone who, in all likelihood, was going to die from this job. The only reason Lizzie survived so long in this area of business was because she was smart and fast. She showed no weakness, and she wanted to keep it that way. And finally, her last rule whenever she accepted a job was to let her handle the details her way. If they wanted to do it a certain way, they could hire someone else to do it, or they could do it themselves. Just give her the target and get out of her way. She would handle the rest.

Lizzie
started tapping the heel of her right foot so it clacked against the pavement beneath her and threw her eyes over to her phone once more. "Come on," she murmured under her breath. "Come on, come on, come on…"

Her thoughts drifted once again, as her ears continued to meet the hollow sound of silence.  Little girls didn’t typically dream of growing up to be assassins, but somehow, Lizzie
always knew that that was what she wanted to do. She was raised by her mother Carmen, who, in her day, was the NDS' top assassin, outranking even the men. Of course, this meant that her mother took extra ribbing and the sexism that went along with any female accomplishment, as well as tons of competition from her fellow assassins, but she didn't mind. Lizzie had no idea who her father was, but she never really cared and Carmen never offered any kind of information.  In fact, her mother took that secret to the grave with her.

When
Lizzie was fourteen, her mother died on the field, a bullet straight between the eyes. Nobody knew how this was possible, as Carmen was shot from a close range, when she was smarter than letting herself get caught, let alone killed. After her untimely death, there was also the problem of Carmen's daughter. Who would look after her? Ultimately, a single mother named Kathleen who had a daughter of her own and worked in the research department of NDS took her in.  From that point forward, Lizzie was determined to become an assassin, and did whatever it took in order to accomplish her goal.  She started running every day and developed a workout regimen to increase her strength, her core, and her balance.  She started eating better, though she never denied herself a sweet indulgence every once in a while.  And she sacrificed the majority of her social life in order to research and study.

Two years later,
she was taking classes with eighteen year olds, training with the best people in her desired department, and studying her ass off. When one wanted to join the NDS, no matter what the field, schooling was required, especially multiple classes in Sociology. The Nocturnal Defense Society protected humanity against those that were nocturnal – vampires and werewolves more specifically. The different species lived together in Somerset, and while the law stated that everyone was equal, each species thought that they were superior. Because humans were weakest of the species, it was decided that the NDS would be created to ensure that they wouldn't be taken advantage of or bullied, but it also served as an equalizer. Members of each species worked side by side with the goal that one day, society would deem that they were all equal and that the NDS was no longer necessary.

At twenty-one,
Lizzie became the youngest assassin on a team of four. For the first year, her teammates didn't trust her due to her age. They thought that the only reason she was there was because of who her mother was. But sooner rather than later, she won their trust and started to increase in rank. It wasn't until her partner was killed right in front of her did she finally decide to go solo. Many people in her unit thought she was just being snobby, but she didn't care. No one would understand what she had experienced and she didn't want to go through it again.

Though Lizzie was now twenty-three and living on her own, she was still incredibly close to Kathleen Simmons, the woman who had taken her in years ago. In fact, Lizzie's best friend was Kathleen's daughter, Rachel, who excelled at researching, just like her mother. Lizzie was continuously grateful she never had to worry about Rachel because she
was rarely, if ever, in the field and therefore, it was highly doubtful she would ever be harmed in any way.

A chirp caused
her thoughts to suddenly disappear, and she glanced down at her phone resting on the surface of the table. An unknown number popped up on her caller identification, and her lips quirked up. "Finally," she muttered before flipping open the phone and placing it over her ear. "Grant," she greeted in her no-nonsense tone she usually used while on the clock.

"Good afternoon, Miss Grant," a familiar, articulate voice on the other end of the line greeted. His voice was breathy and formal and slightly odd when compared to others, but he had a natural tone of authority imbedded
in his speech, and though it wasn't quite intimidating, it commanded respect.

"Good afternoon, Jackson," Lizzie said with a mischievous glint in her eyes. She knew how much her boss detested when she called him simply by his last name without any form of Mister or Sir beforehand. Luckily, the two went way back, and as long as she wasn't addressing him this way in public or in front of other agents, he usually let her get away with it.

A heavy sigh filled the phone, and it was moment before Jackson said anything. "Yes, well, I've got you an assignment that you’ve no doubt been waiting for," he said almost dismissively but not in a callous way. He paused a moment, knowing that Lizzie was quite impatient, especially when it came to learning information about a client or a hit. She bit her bottom lip, trying to suppress the urge to reach through the phone and strangle him until he gave her what she wanted to know.

"Go on,"
she said, trying to keep the sharp edge out of her voice. Really, she was trying to work on patience, but it was so hard when she had a boss like Jackson who tried at every opportunity to take full advantage of her particular default.

She
could practically hear Jackson smile through the phone and waited another moment before he finally decided to continue. "Are you familiar with the Dragulia family?" he asked her.

"You mean the vampire clan?"
Lizzie asked, puzzled. "Aren't they royals in their culture?" She never had to take out a royal before and she highly doubted she would.  “The ones who live forty-five minutes by train into the wilderness on the east side of Somerset, completely opposite of Sterling’s pack?”

"They ar
e," Jackson replied.

"Well, isn't it a little obvious taking out a royal?"
She tilted her head slightly and slid her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "I mean, I don't even remember hearing that they've done anything to threaten humanity, but then again, it could be because no one trusts me with such information. You know, for your top assassin, everything's been pretty hush-hush when it comes to me. Why is that?"

Another sigh escaped,
Lizzie could imagine him reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "You're getting off topic, Miss Grant," he said with slight exasperation. It would seem that he, too, had to work on his patience, except it only seemed challenged whenever he was around or was speaking to Lizzie. "And anyways, this isn't a hit."

She
furrowed her brow as she took another sip of her lemonade. "I don't understand," she said. "I'm an assassin. Why would you be giving me a job that has nothing to do with killing someone?"

"It's not so much killing someone as it is protecting them," Jackson corrected. "I h
ave just been informed that Nikolai Dragulia, the vampire next in line to claim the throne once his father retires from the position, has just been threatened. Apparently, there is a hit out for him in the vampire clan because a few people don't think he would make a good king. He has requested your presence personally in hopes that you would be his bodyguard until this whole thing blows over."

Lizzie's mouth dropped open and it took her a long moment before she finally responded. "Wait a minute," she said, still flabbergasted. "This
guy wants me to babysit him? That's the job that's so important? You want me to babysit a royal? There is no way I'm going to waste my time with something like this. You can't be serious."

"
Well, I am," Jackson said. "Money talks and it has spoken. So I suggest you pack in order to make your train."

Before
she could argue some more, the line went dead.

It was times like these when Lizzie
, if she had smoked, could have really used a cigarette…