Capturing Today (TimeShifters Book 2) (30 page)

I accepted a marriage proposal while looking like Sasquatch. Awesome.

Poor Donovan’s nineteenth-century sensibilities must be going haywire.

Michael holds overgrown branches out of the way for me as we follow the gurgling sound of water skipping over rocks. I duck under his arm. “Thanks.”

A few feet from the stream I stop so suddenly he runs into my back. He doesn’t step away. His warm breath tickles my neck. The clean pine scent of him reminds me that I’m not at my freshest, yet he doesn’t seem to mind. My shoulders land against his chest in the perfect spot for him to wrap his arms around me—if our relationship was like that. But it’s not. It can’t be.

I break the charged moment by stepping forward.

He kneels by the stream and cups water in his hands, motioning for me to join him. I leave a foot of space between us, shrug out of Carl’s jacket, and start rinsing my hands. The water is frigid and sends all my senses into high alert. I fight a shudder. Michael scoots closer and pours water onto my arm. He works his fingers over my hand, trailing them across my skin in an effort to scrub away the dirt. He’s so near. All the things I need to say to him clog like rush hour traffic in my throat. Our eyes meet, and I realize I stopped rinsing off once he started helping.

As if I’m a three-horned unicorn that he fears may disappear, Michael cautiously reaches toward my face until his fingertips graze my cheek. “You have some dirt here too.” He rubs his thumb over the spot, setting off tiny fireworks all along my skin.

Breathe. In and out. Do it.

I’ll never get used to him, will I?

“Sorry.” He grimaces. “I made it worse.” He drops his hand, and I’m about to relax, but then he peels his shirt off, dips the back of it in the water, and uses it to clean my face. For as compact as he is, Michael has impressive muscles. The scars marking his torso only add to his appeal. They announce that time and again he’s faced down terrible things—and lived.

First rule of our marriage: Michael’s not allowed to take off his shirt around me. When faced with his pectorals, coherent thought becomes impossible.

Second rule of marriage—nope. See. Can’t think.

Blocking him out, I close my eyes and rub the heel of my hand over my forehead. “You don’t have to do this. You really don’t.”

“It’s just a shirt.”

When I open my eyes, his shirt is back on. I push back the tinge of regret that tugs on my heart. “I’m not talking about your shirt. Marriage. Michael. Marriage is a forever thing.”

“I know.”

The crunch of leaves makes me jump. “Are you two almost ready?” Donovan calls from the woods. “If this wedding is going to occur, time is of the essence. Erik could find us at any moment.”

“Just one minute. We’ll be there.” I drop my voice and turn back to Michael. “Forget what Donovan said, you don’t have to go through with any of this.”

“Gabby. I’m going to marry you.”

“But why? I’ve been so mean to you. More than mean.”

“You said some things …” His gaze shifts to the water. “But dealing with that isn’t the priority now. We’ll talk about it later.”

“I was cruel.”

“You were, but big picture? I’m not worried. We have the rest of our lives to work through what’s been said.” He finally looks up from the water, his eyes latching onto mine. “In the span of a week I’ve experienced what it would feel like to lose you. Twice. I’m not doing that again. I’m not losing you.”

My eyes sting. “After what I did, aren’t you afraid I could go bad at any moment? There’s something wrong with my blood, Michael. That’s why Erik wants me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” His voice takes on a hard edge. “The temptation to join the Shades is a fight for all of us, not just you. We all have the potential to give in. Me just as much as you.”

“But I did.” Hysteria lines my words. I tug at the collar of my shirt because it feels like it’s cutting off my air supply. “I
went
.”

“And you came back.” He steadies me by resting a hand on my shoulder. “Returning takes more strength than most Shifters have.”

Donovan steps through the woods and tells us it’s time to go. He explains that the fabric of Carl’s coat doesn’t work the same as our Shifter clothes, so I leave it tucked behind a bush. Donovan holds out his hands for both of us. It’s time.

“Where will we shift to?” I ask.

“A time when no one will question two young people showing up at a church for an immediate wedding.” He says something under his breath, and we’re encapsulated in a flash of light again. 

When the light fades, we stand on a tiny hill a few paces away from a white clapboard church. It’s the kind used in made-for-TV movies where the chapel doubles as a one-room school house. It probably comes complete with a wealthy city girl who chose to come to the wilds of some small backwoods town out of love for education and children. But she totally ends up falling in love with the sheriff or doctor or smart but bullheaded local man.

Evidently, I watched one too many prairie historical romances while I was home.

“When are we?”

“Revolutionary War. To the minister, you’ll be a couple who wants to wed before Michael goes off to fight. A very common occurrence.”

Donovan sends Michael into the church to find the minister, and then he and I drop down on the steps outside and watch the sun begin to outline the trees with gold and orange and pink.

A fat, spiky looking caterpillar inches its way across the step. He started by my feet and is slowly but determinedly making his way toward Donovan’s shoes.

I’m getting married.

Despite the fact that this won’t be the wedding of the century, or the marriage that many little girls dream about, I’m hit with a sudden longing for my dad’s presence. He’s supposed to be here. Supposed to walk me down the aisle and give me away. Erik’s stolen even that little normalcy from me. And I hate him for it.

I toe at the caterpillar, speeding his progression toward Donovan. “Will you...?”

“What’s on your mind?”

“It’s silly.” I squeeze my knees, digging my fingers in until I wince.

“If it causes you concern, it’s probably worth voicing.”

Erik has stolen the same moment from Donovan as well. He’ll never walk his daughter down the aisle or share a dance with her at a reception. And I can’t give Donovan back those moments—I’m not Lark—but we can let Erik know he hasn’t defeated us—even in this small way.

“Will you walk me down the aisle?”

“I—” His elbow connects with his knee, and his face goes into his hand.

The hot rush of embarrassment floods my veins. I’ve put him in an awkward situation. I open my mouth to take it back.

But then he speaks. “It would be among the greatest honors of my life.” Emotion hangs like thick wool, covering his normal voice.

The chapel doors creak, showing Michael and a thin man with even thinner hair.

“Everything’s ready.” Michael’s eyes find mine.

I send the minister a forced smile. “Thank you for agreeing to marry us.”

“Of course. I do what I can for these brave men.” He claps Michael on the shoulder and then looks at Donovan. “You will serve as witness?”

Donovan nods. “Gladly.”

“And your relation to the couple?”

I open my mouth before Donovan or Michael can say something. “He’s family.”

Donovan offers me a hand to help me to my feet and then wraps my fingers over his arm. “Shall we?” Michael and the minister hurry to the front of the chapel, and Donovan and I slowly follow. When he reaches the front, Michael turns and watches my progression toward him. What is he thinking? In my jeans and black shirt, I don’t look anything like a typical bride.

Not the one he deserves.

The minister begins by saying a couple of things, but from the second Donovan places my hands into Michael’s, I’m not listening. It all feels like a weird slow motion dream, a trendy music video, or an out of body experience. Toss up, really.

I snap back to attention when Michael interrupts the pastor.

“May I say my own vows?”

The minster blanches. “It’s highly unorthodox, but I won’t stand in your way, young man.”

Michael shifts his weight so he’s turned fully toward me. “Gabriella Creed.” He shakes his head once and then starts again. “Gabby. From this day forward, I will never stop trying to become the man you deserve.”

“Michael.”

He squeezes my hands, making me meet his eyes. “Not done yet,” he whispers. “I vow to love you, serve you, protect you, and sacrifice for you. I will never stop.”

He takes a step closer. “Every hour of every day for the rest of my life, I will use to show you that I love you. No matter what happens. No matter the circumstances or the arguments we have. No matter how you change or the path you choose to walk, I promise to walk beside you. To support you, to cherish you, and to respect, honor, and champion you in all things for as long as I live.”

He’s really laying it on thick. For the benefit of the pastor? Or to make me believe? Either way, it borders on cruel. Despite knowing better, his words open the door in my heart where I locked tiny canaries of hope. They find barren branches in my soul and begin to sing.

After a long pause, the pastor turns to me. “I suppose you will say your own vows as well?”

Dread grips my heart. “Um. Same. Mine are the same as what he said.”

The pastor quotes a verse and then says we’re man and wife.

Michael places my hands on his chest and pulls me close. Inches away, his mocha eyes rake over my face, asking permission. He must locate what he’s looking for because his lips descend on mine with a sweet and gentle kiss that leaves my mouth burning with a desire for more. The pastor gives us a sheet of paper with three scribbled lines on it. Our marriage certificate. Michael thanks him and folds it slowly—reverently—and tucks it into his back pocket.

We head out of the chapel and down the stairs. Michael laces his fingers with mine and pumps my hand once.

I’m married.

How strange. I don’t feel any different than I did ten minutes ago. But I am. Even in the midst of a sham marriage, my life is forever going to be different. Well, marriage isn’t the only thing that’s changed my life recently. There are Erik’s threats. There’s also … Rosa.

But I’ll sort through all that later.

I watch Michael in my peripheral vision. Something unlocks from around my ribcage, making it easier to breathe.

At least … at least I belong somewhere—with someone now. Michael will be my home.

“What now?” I ask.

Donovan lags behind. “We’ll spread the news at Keleusma with the hopes that the information reaches Erik not long after.”

“I wish …” Michael’s voice is low. “I wish I could have given you a better wedding.”

Better? He’s stuck with me. For life.

“You’ve done more than enough.” Far more.

“You … you should have a bouquet. Every bride has one. Right?” He drops my hand and heads over to the field that’s bursting with wildflowers. He stoops, selecting different flowers—many more than I would have ever carried.

Donovan stands at a distance but eyes me. We’re long out of Michael’s earshot. “If you learn to accept his love, you will know a happiness that most people on this earth never experience.”

“He doesn’t—”

“He does,” Donovan says firmly.

I blink rapidly and turn to watch Michael again. My thoughts tangle in a knot that would require an Eagle Scout to unwind.

A flash of light cracks the sky, and I close my eyes against the brightness. When I open them, Erik scowls at me.
No. No. No
. My heart rams into my throat.

“You shouldn’t have gone through with that wedding.” He rubs his jaw. “You really shouldn’t have.”

He’s come to kill me, hasn’t he?

Michael and Donovan’s rapid footsteps crunch the grass. Donovan positions himself in front of me. Michael slips his hand into mine and laces our fingers together.

 “Evening, Don.” Erik inclines his head. “You’re more of a sap than I gave you credit for. Showing up at the same chapel where Rosa jilted you.” He shakes his head. “You didn’t even make it hard on me.”

“They’re married.” Donovan widens his stance. “You can’t touch her.”

“Really?” Erik smirks and strolls forward, but he stops in his tracks when Donovan takes a step toward him.

I sink my fingers into the back of Michael’s hand. He shifts his weight so he’s angled in front of me. Donovan and Michael form a two-man line of defense between me and Erik. Someone who could easily kill them. But Erik hangs back from Donovan. I wonder why?

“Leave. Return to your domain.” Donovan’s voice has a booming quality to it.

Erik keeps me in sight but turns his head Donovan’s way. “I’m going to give you one chance to hand them over—both Gabriella and Michael—right now. If you do, I’ll leave the rest of your people alone. If you refuse, I’ll put a kill order out on every Shifter’s head.”

No. Not both of us. I won’t let him drag Michael into this.

I drop Michael’s hand and move to step around Donovan. “Just me. It should be just me.”

“Gabby. No.” Michael’s hands land on my waist. He tugs me back against his chest and wraps his arms around me.

Erik clucks his tongue. “Unfortunately, I need Pace now too. You really ought to stop hurting those around you, Gabriella.”

“You—” Donovan begins.

I cut him off. “I don’t understand.”

“You’re married.” Erik’s eyebrows pinch together. “So now there’s that nasty Shifter wedded bliss voodoo to be dealt with. To break the bond, Pace will have to die.”

“No!” The news hits me like a physical blow, and I collapse in Michael’s arms. If he wasn’t holding me, I’d be on the ground.

“It’s okay,” Michael whispers against the side of my head. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Perhaps you should have obeyed.” Erik shrugs. “Oh, well. His blood is on your hands. But don’t worry, I’ll leave him and Donovan for last. I’ll let them watch all their friends die because of you.”

Donovan fists his hands. “You’ve said your piece. Now leave.”

“Is that your answer then? These two are worth the lives of your other Shifters?”