Blood of Dawn (26 page)

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Authors: Tami Dane

BOOK: Blood of Dawn
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“Wine?” Damen asked, taking a bottle out of the ice tub.
“Absolutely. Thank you.” Hildur held her glass for him and he filled it with the amber-colored liquid. While he filled my glass, the queen dug in like she hadn’t eaten in eons. After downing half her salad, and two glasses of wine, she looked at my plate and chuckled. “Humans and their table manners.” Her salad was polished off before I’d consumed a quarter of mine.
Dinner was rather uneventful. No one shape-shifted, though watching a woman scarf down enough food to make a linebacker sick was somewhat amusing. Damen ate slightly less. Me, I consumed more than a mouse, but not much.
When the servants arrived to clear the table, Hildur announced it was time for the grand tour of the house. Off I was swept, into a castle that was fit for any queen, filled with priceless antiques and rare artworks. I “oohed” and “aahed” as I was led from one room to the next. When we reached our starting point, the room with
the
Michelangelo on the ceiling, the queen gave me a twinkly-eyed smile. “Thank you for your delightful company. It was a pleasure.”
“Thank you for having me.”
“We’ll see each other soon.” She waved her arm; and in the next blink, she was a golden eagle, soaring out the open French doors.
I turned to Damen. “That was some exit.”
“Mom has a flair for the dramatic. She once told me she’d dreamed of being an actress, when she was a girl. I could see her doing films.”
“She’s certainly beautiful enough to be in movies. She looked . . . different today.”
“Yes, today you saw her as she’s always appeared to me. To fit in with humans, she ages herself, to avoid drawing attention to the fact that she doesn’t change.”
“I see.”
“She likes you.” Planting his hands on my hips, he turned me to face him.
“How can you tell?” I stepped closer; my gaze was locked on his handsome face. My heart was doing flip-flops. Or maybe it was doing loop-the-loops. At either rate, I was feeling a little giddy and dizzy. I needed to hold on to him. I ran my hands up his chest to his neck, and curled them around so I could play with the waves skimming the back of his collar.
“She didn’t turn you into a toad.”
“Glad she didn’t do that.”
“I know. I would have to change into a toad too, if she had.”
“Would you do that for me? Turn into a toad?”
“I’d turn into anything you want.” His gaze flicked to my mouth, and the air seemed to crackle between us.
“Where’s our chaperone now?”
“Hmmm. Probably in the car.” That was an excellent place for an unwanted chaperone to be. Better than here. His head started dipping down, toward mine. He licked his lips. I licked mine. And just as my eyelids fluttered shut, his mouth brushed softly over mine.
It was both the gentlest and the most thrilling kiss of my life. Lips smooth, not hard; damp, but not wet. He tasted; he tempted; he kissed me into a near coma. When the kiss ended, I almost fell over. Luckily, I was still holding him, and he was still holding me.
“Wow,” I said.
“Marry me, Sloan.”
“Wow,” I said again.
Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it.
—Terry Pratchett
26
Unlike a lot of girls, I never tried to imagine what that one special moment would be like—when the love of my life would ask me to marry him. But still, evidently, I had some sort of scene planned out in my head. Because this proposal took me completely by surprise. I was speechless. Completely shocked. Unable to utter more than a syllable.
“Wow,” I said a third time. Then, “Um. I. Oh.”
He chuckled. The low rumbles vibrated through me. “I take it you didn’t see this coming.”
“Yes. And no.” My gaze swept around that insanely huge room again, drifted up to the ceiling before slowly falling back down to Damen’s hope-filled eyes. He was serious. He genuinely wanted me to marry him. My knees started to soften. “I . . .”
“Do you need to sit down?”
“Yes.”
Sliding an arm around my waist, he led me to the chair I’d touched earlier. I sat, and he lowered to one knee. That position made me feel even dizzier.
He took my hand and cradled it between his. “Are you all right?”
“I’m . . .”
“In shock?” he finished for me.
“Yes.”
When I didn’t say anything else, he asked, “Is it a bad shock?”
“I don’t know.” That was three syllables. An improvement.
“Are you happy at all?”
“I’m not sad.”
“I suppose that’s a good thing.”
“It is.” I took a few deep breaths. “I’m sorry. It’s just a lot to process. My circuits are overloaded.”
One side of his mouth curled up. A lopsided grin looked so good on him. “Take your time. I’d hate for you to have a complete meltdown.” He winked, and my heart did a happy, little pitter-patter.
Was I looking into the face of my future husband? Was he really
the one
? How could I possibly know after only going on a couple of dates? When I’d agreed to the courtship, I had expected—despite what my father had said—for it to be a long courtship. At least twelve months. I wasn’t mentally prepared for this yet.
“We don’t know each other,” I pointed out.
“Why should that stop us? My parents met on the morning of their wedding.”
“Was it an arranged marriage?”
“No, my father was just an extremely impulsive man. He knew the minute he saw my mother for the first time that she was the one.” He gazed down at my hand before lifting his eyes back up again. “I feel the same way. I’ve never met anyone like you. And I can’t imagine a future without you.”
Oh, my God! “It’s so soon.” My heart started thumping hard against my breastbone and a wave of heat crept up my chest. My palm was starting to sweat. And my mouth was dry. I tried to swallow but I couldn’t. “I mean, I knew what our courtship meant, but still . . . I thought we’d have time to get better acquainted. We’ve only been seeing each other for just over two weeks. There’s so much I don’t know about you yet. And you don’t know anything about me.”
“We can have a long engagement, if that makes you feel better.”
It did, to a certain extent.
It wasn’t that I sensed there was anything wrong with Damen. The exact opposite, actually. He was amazing. He was mysterious. He was interesting. He was insanely handsome.
The problem was, he was too perfect.
I cannot marry him until I knew what his flaws are.
Oh, my God, did I actually say to myself that I’d marry him?
I stared into his eyes and tried to imagine what our future would be like. I saw the two of us standing in front of a large Colonial—two little boys, who looked just like their father, ran around us while we laughed. It was a happy picture.
“Sloan.” He stuffed his hand into his pocket and pulled out a ring-sized box. “I took this out of the safe, just in case.”
He flipped the lid, revealing a ring—and it took my breath away. A square-shaped center stone, the color of the queen’s blue eyes, was ringed in sparkling white diamonds. More diamonds flashed on the band, the top, and both back and front. It was so sparkly; I had to blink a few times.
“It’s a family heirloom, a blue diamond they call ‘the Eye of the Goddess.’ It was a gift from the king of the dwarves.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it.”
He plucked it out of the velvet box. “I’ve been waiting to give this to the right woman. I know I’ve found her.” He slipped his free hand under my left hand and slowly slid the ring onto my finger.
It fit perfectly.
I stared down at it, mesmerized by the facets cut into the stone. It was so pretty. And huge. And I’d never imagined that I’d wear a ring like that, so . . . extravagant. But, oddly, it felt like it belonged on my finger. And when I gazed into Damen’s eyes, I felt like I belonged to him.
“A
long
engagement,” I said, emphasizing the word “long.”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay.” I laughed. This was crazy, and scary, and exciting, and I was completely overwhelmed with emotions. That only got worse, when Damen jumped to his feet, giving a big whoop of glee as he did it. He hauled me into his arms and swung me around in circles until I was so dizzy that I couldn’t stand. Then, holding me tenderly, so I wouldn’t fall over, he kissed me until I couldn’t breathe.
“Thank you,” he said. “You’ve made me the happiest man on earth.” His twinkling eyes said as much, if not more. “Tell me you’re happy—that you can’t wait to shout out your news to the whole world.”
“I’m too overwhelmed to say what I feel.”
He cupped my cheek. “It’s okay. In time, you’ll feel as I do. Are you okay, at least? Able to walk?”
“I believe so.”
“Good.” He placed his hand on the small of my back, which, as it turned out, was a sexy touch. It was an intimacy I hadn’t anticipated. He led me to the door in this fashion.
I reached.
He said, “Sloan, before you—”
I pulled.
Flashes blinded me for roughly thirty seconds. I blinked, then lifted my hand to shade my eyes.
“What?” I said, jerking back. I bumped into Damen. He steadied me, hands on my hips.
“Prince Damen! Is it true? Have you proposed?” someone shouted.
“Prince Damen!” someone else yelled.
Dozens of people were crowded around the front door. They shouted questions. Flashes blinked. Cameras caught the image of me, frozen like a deer in headlights.
“Miss Skye!” someone yelled. “Is that an engagement ring on your finger?”
My gaze jerked to Damen.
Damen, my fiancé, was smiling. At least one of us knew how to handle this kind of thing. Me, I was still frozen, confused, completely taken by surprise.
“Miss Skye has accepted my proposal of marriage,” he said, looking absolutely thrilled.
I decided I’d better don a happy face, rather than looking like a girl who’d just stepped into a bear trap.
“May we see the ring?” one reporter asked.
Damen stepped up to stand at my left. He slid his elbow under my hand, allowing me to hold his arm while providing the mass of paparazzi a glimpse of the ring. “It’s a family heirloom,” he said proudly.
“Miss Skye, do you have any comments?”
I swallowed, hard. “Today was one of the most amazing, surprising days of my life. I’m looking forward to many more.”
“Have you set a date yet for the wedding?” another asked.
I let the pro handle this one.
“Not at this time,” Damen said. “We’ll be updating the press as arrangements are made.”
I wore my fake-happy face for another lifetime while a zillion photos were snapped; finally the crowd broke up. Damen walked me down to the limo and we climbed aboard.
I slumped back in the seat, nestled against Damen’s side. His arm was slung over the back, making me feel protected and cozy.
“Whew. That was quite a fiasco.”
“I was about to warn you when you opened the door.”
“I guess I forgot you’re a prince. To me, you’re just a regular guy.”
“‘A regular guy’?” he echoed, grimacing.
“I mean that in the very best way. Please don’t take it as an insult.”
“I don’t. That’s actually one of the reasons why I decided to propose to you in the first place. You see me as a man first, then a prince. Most of the women I’ve courted saw me as a prince first, man second.”
For some reason, a little chill swept up my spine at those words. He’d courted other women. I blurted out, “Did you court many?” I didn’t want to know the answer to that question. I
really
didn’t.
“Two others.”
Ugh.
But looking at it from a different angle, at least I now knew he hadn’t proposed to the first girl he’d courted. That made me feel a little better about my impulsive decision to accept his proposal.
The facets of my ring caught the light and I glanced down at it. It still looked huge and extremely flashy. I wondered how long it would take for me to get used to wearing it. And, even more important, I wondered how long it would take for me to get used to what it meant.
We chatted about this and that during the short drive home, completely avoiding the topics of marriage and weddings. Damen walked me to the door, where he gave me a toe-curling kiss, which actually made my heart rate shoot into the danger zone. Then he opened the door for me so I could stumble inside.
 
 
I headed for my parents’ kitchen first. I needed a drink. Or something.
Katie and Sergio were lounging on the couch in the family room, watching TV. JT was nowhere to be seen.
“Hey, Sloan, how was your date?” Katie asked.
“Um. Full of surprises.” I felt my face warming. And my hands clasped together. My right index finger traced the perimeter of the blue stone.
“What kind of surprises?” Katie scooted upright. “Good surprises or bad?”
“Um . . .”
Katie tipped her head to the side. “What?”
I lifted my left hand.
“Sloan? Is that a . . .” She vaulted over the back of the couch and sprinted across the room. Fighting the momentum, she practically smashed into me. “Sloan?” She grabbed my hand and stared at the ring. “Is that an
engagement
ring?”
“Yes.”
“Damen asked you to marry him?” she practically squealed.
“He did.” I braced myself for a bouncy hug.
It didn’t come.
“So fast?” Katie asked, her excitement fading slightly.
“I know it’s extremely fast. I told him I needed a long engagement.”
“You’re going to be married.” Katie was staring at my ring, her brows scrunched. Her gaze lifted, and she must’ve seen something on my face, confusion perhaps. Her lips curled up. I guessed it was supposed to be a smile, but it wasn’t. “I’m happy for you, Sloan.”
“I don’t want things to change between us,” I told her, hoping it might ease her conflicted emotions. I knew Katie well. I had no doubt she wanted me to be happy. But at the same time, she and I had been living together all this time, acting as if we’d be roommates for the rest of our lives. Maybe that had seemed possible a few months ago, but not any longer. I understood her reaction. To be honest, I probably would have reacted exactly as she had if the situation had been reversed and she was the one telling me she’d just accepted a marriage proposal.
Katie gave me a hug, but it wasn’t an exuberant one. It was, however, a warm one. “If you’re happy, then I am too.”
“I’m not going to push things. We’re taking time to get to know each other, to make sure. This,” I said, waving my left hand, “is a formality.”
“That’s one hell of a formality.” Katie grabbed my hand and really studied the rock. “Yes, it is. I’ve never seen a rock so huge.”
“I agree, it’s a little flashy. I almost feel strange wearing it.”
“It’s very pretty. Is it a sapphire?”
“No, blue diamond.”
Katie’s eyes bugged. “That’s a diamond? It’s huge. Like . . . British crown jewels huge.”
“I guess it’s a family heirloom.”
My phone rang. Honestly, I was glad for the distraction. I wasn’t a materialistic girl. This talk of priceless crown jewels was making me uncomfortable.
It was my mom. “Oh, my God!” she screamed.
My heart jerked. “Mom, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing! Your father and I were watching the news on the Mythic cable network. We saw you! You’re getting married? My daughter’s marrying Prince Damen?”

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