Motor City Mage (15 page)

The bartender clapped Des on the shoulder and said something to the big guy, who grunted and let go, moving back to the bar with his buddy. At another shout from the barkeep, a woman came running out from the kitchen, dripping sweat.

“Anys will prepare the bride,” the elf told them. He pointed at Des. “You come with me. I’ll show you what you need to buy for the wedding. Good thing the market isn’t closed yet.”

Lana gave Des a hopeful look. “Any idea how to get out of this?” she whispered in his ear.

“Nope,” he replied just as quietly. “Just play along. It won’t mean anything once we get home. Pretend it’s a game.”

Lana let herself be herded upstairs with the woman while Des went outside with the elf.
It means something to me.
She gazed sadly at him over her shoulder as he walked away.

Upstairs, she was descended on by the woman and two teenage girls, who chattered like squirrels as they drew a bath in a big metal tub. At least this place had hot and cold running water. They added some kind of scented oil—not too far off from cinnamon—before gesturing to Lana to strip and get into the tub.

The warm scented water was heavenly, but she wasn’t used to bathing with a roomful of gawkers. One of the daughters washed Lana’s hair with a sweet-smelling liquid soap, then proceeded to scrub her back. Anys and her other daughter argued over the clothing they lay out on the bed, finally deciding on a velvet gown in a pale peach shade. With lace and ribbons, it was a little too sweet for Lana’s taste, but the color would suit. The yellow one they rejected would have made her look jaundiced. Since the locals were a tall people, at least it fit.

They sat her in front of the fire in a thin slip while the younger girl brushed her hair to dry it and the elder brought Lana another big mug of the mead, or honey beer. It had just enough kick to help her relax a little—at least after the third mug.

Anys, who had very few words of English, sat on the windowsill, braiding some dried sheaves of what looked like wheat or oats into a circlet. It didn’t take a super-genius to figure out that symbolism. Thank goodness for modern medicine’s ability to counteract fertility magic. Primitive rituals like this often had a bit of actual magical oomph behind them, and the last thing she needed was to get pregnant. Fortunately, her own scent told her the drugs still had her hormones securely under control.

Finally, once her hair was dry, they stood her in front of a silver mirror—no glass here—and dressed her in the peach gown and a gold belt with several charms hanging from it—a broom, a cradle, a kettle and a pair of interlocking ovals. Maybe those symbolized the bracelets the elf had talked about? The wheat crown was nestled in her hair, which had been left loose down her back. She wore no makeup, but her entire body had been massaged with oils—and she did mean her entire body. It had been more than a little embarrassing to have Anys massage her butt, breasts and even inner thighs. They gave her a light cream for her hands and face, and then they all stood back and smiled at their completed project.

Feeling vaguely like a science project gone wrong, Lana smiled back. They were being remarkably kind. She felt like the world’s biggest fraud, but she had to admit it was better than doing all this to get stuck with Taslo—or anyone else for that matter. At least Des was in the same situation, just playing along until they got home. Truthfully, that sucked almost as much. She didn’t want a pretend wedding with Des. If he ever said those words to her, she wanted him to mean them.

A knock sounded at the door, and the innkeeper stepped in with the elf. “Uther has agreed to represent your man, and I’ll stand as your father. Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” she replied grimly. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Here is the groom’s bracelet,” Uther, the elf, said, passing over a suede pouch. “Pak, here, will translate for you, while I do the same for Desmond. When he tells you to, clasp this around your man’s left wrist.”

“Sort of the local version of wedding rings?” Lana looked at Pak and Anys. “Why is Anys wearing one and Pak isn’t?”

The elf shrugged. “The men take theirs off to work. Basically they only wear them on special occasions after the wedding.”

“But the women wear theirs all the time?”

“Yes. It is a symbol for being claimed. If a husband catches a wife without her bracelet, he can legally beat her or even put her to death.”

“Oh yeah, that’s fair.”
Not!
She should have worked harder to convince Des to go around this nasty little town.

“I do not make the laws around here…” he began.

“I know, you just come for the mead.” She scowled at him. “Come on, let’s get this fucking farce over with.”

“Don’t say that where Pak can hear you,” the elf muttered. “Taslo is his nephew and heir. He’d more than happily give you to the blue-haired behemoth instead of your mage.”

This time she bit her tongue and said nothing. Uther zipped back to the bar, while Lana took Pak’s arm and let him lead her down the stairs.

Des caught his breath as he stood by the bar, Uther the elf next to him, watching Lana descend the stairs in a frilly peach dress. The style was so incongruous on her he had to bite back a laugh, but damn if she wasn’t gorgeous anyway. The snug fitting velvet and cinched gold belt emphasized her lush breasts and small waist, while her wavy hair glittered with gold and copper highlights in the glow of the wagon-wheel chandeliers. Bare toes peeked out from under what Uther had said was Anys’s own wedding dress, showing off the crimson polish she’d had on since leaving Detroit, though she’d long since picked most of it off her fingernails during their trek.

Her spine was straight, like she was going before a firing squad, but her eyes rolled a little, making her look dizzy.

“They’ve been giving her a potion in her mead,” Uther whispered. “A mild sedative and strong aphrodisiac to overcome any maidenly fears and make her more amenable.”

Des managed not to snort. Lana sure as hell didn’t need an aphrodisiac and he doubted much of anything could make her amenable if she didn’t want to be. They’d laugh about this later—at least he hoped they would. Even if this ceremony were binding in their world, marriage under duress wasn’t legal anyway. He tried hard to convince himself he was just playing a role.

So why did his gut clench like he’d been punched when Pak handed Lana’s arm to Des?

The vows were pretty similar to old ones on Earth. Both promised to love, and Lana had to agree to obey, which she did with only a hint of a snarl. Des readily swore to protect her and any children they might have and to provide for her to the best of his ability.

Then Pak urged Lana to her knees and she flashed Des a glare. He let his gaze speak for him, apologizing for the indignity as he placed his hand on her head in a gesture of ownership. This was wrong. Marriage was supposed to be a partnership, not a form of slavery. But he followed directions and accepted the loose bracelet she placed on him, then slid one over her wrist, clasping it until it locked. Unlike his, only cutting the gold would allow her to remove the snug-fitting band.

Though subservience was utterly against her nature, she quickly hid the baring of her teeth by bowing her head.
Thank you, chán-láng.
Even drugged, she played along. He was so proud he wanted to burst.

Then it was over and the entire tavern cheered and toasted. Des and Lana were forced to drink several rounds with their witnesses and hosts. Finally, amid hoots and catcalls, Lana led him up to the room they’d been given for the night—the same one, they were told, where she’d dressed for the ceremony.

Once inside, Des slammed the door behind them and leaned against it, his shoulders sagging with relief.

“You don’t like being the main attraction, do you?” Lana carefully unhooked the gold belt from her waist and laid it on the dresser, along with the crown of grain from her hair.

“Not in the slightest.” He didn’t know how she could stand getting on stage and playing for a crowd night after night.

“It gets old sometimes.” She moved over to him and turned her back, silently asking him to untie the laces that held the velvet close to her curves. “But it can be a rush, too, if you’re doing something you love. This just felt…icky.”

“I’m sorry.” He untied the laces and loosened the gown until it sagged around her and she could pull it off over her head. “For what it’s worth, you looked amazing in that dress.”

“Thanks. I was terrified of spilling wine on it or something, but it turned out okay. Anys wants to save it for her girls, so I didn’t want to damage it.”

“Girls?” He hadn’t seen any daughters.

“Two—and just about grown. Given the local marriage customs, is it any wonder they keep them locked up here when there are customers in the tavern?”

Des winced. “You’ve got a point.” He helped her with the dress. She folded it carefully and set it aside, while he stripped out of his fur jacket and flannel shirt. He tripped taking off his own boot, he was so busy watching her pace about the room in her see-through, sleeveless shift.

She finally sat cross-legged on the bed, her chin on her fists, watching him undress with a hungry look.

“Look, I know they drugged you, and I don’t want to take advantage of that…” Much as he wanted to.

“Don’t worry, it wore off about fifteen minutes after they stopped pouring it into me. My lupine metabolism still works, even if I can’t shift.”

“Are you sure?” He stared at her nipples, hard as rocks against her thin garment. He’d sleep on the floor if he had to.

Her laugh was wry, and heartening in its familiarity. “Don’t be an idiot. I wanted you before there were any potions involved. Or haven’t the last few nights taught you anything?”

“I know.” He rubbed his temples, feeling like a twit. “I think it just falls into the same category you just mentioned…icky.”

She lifted one eyebrow and tipped her chin downward.

“I didn’t say
you
were icky.” Wearing just his boxers, he thunked down on the foot of the bed, facing a wall. “Just the idea of having sex with someone who’s been drugged… I’m going to shut up now before I get even deeper into trouble.”

“Good answer.” She squeezed his shoulder. “So, look at it this way. We get to experience married sex without really being married.” If he hadn’t been listening closely, he’d have missed the slight tremor in her voice. It helped, to know she was affected, too, by the whole situation.

“I guess. I’m still sorry about the kneeling and everything. You tolerated it a lot better than I could have.” Though he kissed up enough with the League—why had he thought that was acceptable?

“With my grandfather, I got plenty of practice playing the subservient female.”

Des had met “the old man,” as his grandchildren had called Ivan Novak out of his hearing. He could well imagine the obeisance the elder werewolf had demanded, and how hard that had sat with someone as dominant as Lana.

“And you hated every minute.” He turned and somehow she just seemed to flow into his arms. “Downstairs, I could tell how much that ‘obey’ business was driving you nuts, but you didn’t give us away, so thank you.”

“Hey, I don’t want to have to fight my way out of this world any more than you do. Especially since I can’t shift in this backwater hellhole.”

“It’s kind of sad, actually,” he said, “that they think of marriage like this. When I look at my parents, any of our friends—it can be so much better than ownership.” He meant every word—and yet, somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d also meant almost every word he’d said before the Makran priest. Some small part of him
did
feel like he’d just married Lana. And it was trying really hard not to show its teeth and beat its chest. He knew in that instant, that for him, the vows they’d just spoken were binding. Even if they couldn’t stay together once they were home, Lana was his
one.
He’d never love anyone in quite the same way he loved her. In his heart, she’d always be his wife. The concept terrified him.

“Quit thinking so hard. It’s late, and we leave at first light.” She scooted away from him and pulled the shift over her head, tossing it to the floor. “I’m not drugged anymore, I promise. Now, let’s go to bed and worry about the rest in the morning.”

How could he argue with that? He checked the screen on the fire, blew out the oil lanterns and shucked his boxers on the way back to the bed. Lana waited on the crisp sheets, warm and smiling.

“Now that’s more like it.” She held up an arm and he lay down beside her.

Their bodies had already grown attuned to one another—they meshed perfectly as they moved together, neither initiating or accepting the kiss that consumed them both.

He was already hard—had been since the ceremony—and he reached down to find Lana swollen and wet, ready for him. She was just as eager as he, biting down on his shoulder as he rolled her to her back and plunged inside.

“Amazing,” he said on a groan as her inner muscles gripped him like a fist.

Her broken little whimper when he moved let him know she was just as into this as he was.

Des tried to take it slow. He propped himself on his elbows and leaned down to suckle her pebbled nipples, teasing each in turn into an even harder peak. Her nails dug into his shoulders and her spine bowed. She twined her legs around his, allowing him a better angle for deeper penetration.

“Harder,” she murmured, her head thrown back, tossing against the pillows.

His control snapped and he took her hard and fast. He let his weight rest on her, bringing his face down to hers so he could kiss her. Lana must have approved because she gripped him close and sucked his tongue into her mouth.

A few moments later they each gasped for air and Lana let out a wail, almost a howl, as her climax hit, milking his cock. It was more than he could stand and he joined her, shoving as deep as he could go and releasing, over and over until he was sure he’d be nothing but a dehydrated husk come morning. Even when he thought he’d black out, he kept coming, Lana’s seemingly endless orgasm dragging out his own like never before.

Lana bucked her hips and a leg snapped on the bed, sending them tumbling. Des managed to catch the headboard, steadying them, before they hit the floor. His cock was still lodged deep in her channel, and he really, really didn’t want to move.

“Did you hear cheering from downstairs?” she asked breathily after he managed to roll them carefully to the side of the tilting bed and drag in a breath.

“Uh-huh.” No question about it, the entire bar had heard them going at it like minks and breaking the bed. He couldn’t help a stirring of male pride, along with the inevitable embarrassment.

Lana’s chuckle puffed warm air against his sweaty shoulder. “Well, at least they know the wedding was consummated. We’ll have to pay Pak and Anys for the bed.”

Des laughed into her hair. “It was worth every penny.”

* * *

The next morning before dawn, Lana took a bath while Des worked his magic to clean their clothes. She was in a fabulous mood, despite the fact that they still had to find a way home and put a stop to the demon drug empire once they got there. They’d pulled the mattress onto the floor for the rest of the night and after another round, had gotten a good night’s sleep. This morning Lana looked at the broken bed frame and laughed like a lunatic.

It took Des about thirty seconds to repair it with magic, now that he was thinking with his brain instead of other body parts. Not that she was complaining. Her own parts still tingled with the memory of the night before. While last night might not have been a wedding night in the truest sense of the word, it had felt like one, and Lana was very afraid this was the closest she was ever going to get. Other than
obedience,
she’d meant every word of what she’d said last night. She’d never tell him, of course, but to her, the vows had been real. Des was her mate—probably the only one she’d ever have. Lupines, like normal wolves, mated for life. She would love Desmond Sutton until the day she died.

Now, though, it was time to resume their trek. She climbed out of the tub, dried off and dressed before Des had finished his own quick wash-up. While he pulled on his jeans and shirt, she checked their packs and bedroll, making sure everything was cinched tight and ready.

Anys waited for them in the nearly-empty barroom with a hot breakfast prepared and a knowing smile on her face. The porridge wasn’t unlike oatmeal, and with a generous dollop of honey, it was pretty edible. There was something similar to bacon on the side, and Lana snarfed down her portion, barely refraining from swiping Des’s.

As they were finishing their meal, Uther walked through the door and ordered a mug of the honey-beer, sitting down uninvited at their table.

“Are you sure you want to cross through Underhill to get back to Earth? Llyris is none too fond of lupines, or
Wyndewin
for that matter.”

“My sister is Lady Green Oak,” Des said. “We’ve done some favors for Her Majesty. We’ll be okay.”

Uther narrowed his gaze. “So you’re part of that crew of humans and lupines, eh? I’m familiar with Aidan of Green Oak and Alaric the Bard. I’ve also heard about the Owain business. Nasty. In that case you should be fine. You said you have a map?”

Des nodded and pulled out the map of Faerie surrounding the portal from Makra.

“You’ll come out here, in gnome territory, near the eastern border of the region controlled by Llyris. Walk west, to the first village, then head to the nearby keep—believe me, you won’t be able to miss it. My people aren’t exactly subtle when it comes to castles.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen a couple,” Des said. “Who’s the lord of this one?”

“My older brother,” Uther replied. “Sir Galen Goldenhair, though he’s a minor vassal, not one of the council lords like your brother-in-law. Give him this, and he’ll get you to court.” He handed over a folded piece of parchment with a waxed seal pressed into it. “I’m not technically allowed back in Seelie lands, but my family and I still get along. It should also get you into the portal house on this side, which is manned by gnomes. Though they pay lip service to Llyris, the gnomes pass messages through their territory from time to time.” He described the cottage they were looking for and how to identify it.

Lana wasn’t surprised this portal was inside a building. The Fae liked to keep all gateways into their world carefully guarded.

“Thanks.” Des tucked the note into the pocket of his jeans. “Any surprises around the far side of the portal?”

Lana snorted. “Like it being perched on the side of a cliff?”

“Ah, came through that one, did you? Ouch.” Uther finished his beer and Anys was instantly at his side with another.

“Just a little.” Lana finished her…well, tea was probably the best thing to call it. “Again, thank you. If you ever decide to hang out in the human realm instead of here, look us up. You can find us through the Detroit safe house. I guarantee Aidan won’t give a shit about the Queen’s opinion.”

“My thanks,” Uther said. “But for now, I’m content here. There’s a woman I’m thinking of life-bonding with, if she’ll have me.”