10. Ecco

10

ECCO

S lowly, I turn to Mariah, one brow arched in silent question.

At least she has the decency to look sheepish, guilt pinking her cheeks as she shrugs helplessly.

"Surprise?" Mariah offers weakly, peeking at me over my mother's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Ec. I meant to tell you, I swear. It just slipped my mind with all the planning, and I thought?—"

But I'm already shaking my head, cutting her off with an upraised hand. "It's fine, Mar. We'll talk about it later."

I don't have the bandwidth to deal with her guilty-apology routine right now, not with the mushroom cloud of my mother's presence still exploding through my brain.

Turning back to Deandra, I force a bright, brittle smile on my face, determined to get through this interaction with my dignity intact.

"It's great to see you, Mom. I had no idea you'd be coming. But we have to run, I'm afraid. Mariah and I need to go set up for the rehearsal dinner."

Deandra isn't even listening to me, of course, her avid gaze already flicking over my shoulder to land on Graeme's imposing form.

Her smile turns coy, an avaricious interest filling her eyes that makes my blood run cold.

"No worries, my love," she purrs, dismissing me with an airy wave. "I'll see you later. But first, aren't you going to introduce me to your strapping friend, here?"

Subtly, I angle myself to block her predatory line of sight, as if I can shield Graeme from the full force of her covetous appraisal.

"This is Graeme Grigori. My bodyguard." I bite out the words. "He's here to make sure everything runs smoothly. Graeme, this is my mother. Deandra Lark."

Graeme inclines his head, the picture of professionalism. But after days of spending every moment together, I can see how his expression ever-so-slightly betrays his wariness, a muscle ticking in his carved-from-granite jaw.

"A pleasure, Ms. Lark."

"Oh, the pleasure's all mine," Deandra practically moans, her thirsty gaze raking over Graeme's massive frame. "And call me Deandra. You must come find me later, Graeme . I'd love to hear all about how you're… protecting my daughter."

Ignoring me completely, she takes one brazen step closer, reaching out as if she's going to lay her perfectly manicured claws on his brawny bicep.

And that. Is. It.

I swoop between them, seizing my mother's hand in a death grip, matching her stare head-on with a knowing one of my own.

"Lovely seeing you, mother. We'll catch up at the wedding. Gotta run!"

I drop her hand, and without giving her a chance to respond, whip around. Then I glom onto Mariah with my free hand and tug her down the street at a breakneck clip, not stopping until we've put a full block between us and Hurricane Deandra.

Graeme, bless him, keeps pace easily, his bulk carving an imposing path through the milling pedestrians.

I don't want to add any more stress to Mariah's plate right now, but I can't hold back the accusing words that tumble out of my mouth.

"I can't believe you invited my mother without telling me, Mariah!"

Mariah's guilty expression deepens. She looks stricken, her eyes pleading, and I know I'm already halfway toward forgiving her.

But still! Mariah knows what my relationship with my mother is like, everything that went down during my parent's turbulent divorce. It's a huge part of how we became so close, why Mariah's mom Lori feels almost like a second mother to me.

There were more than a few nights that I ended up crashing at the inn with Mariah and her family, unwilling to head back into the fray at my own house.

"I should have told you, Ec, I'm so sorry, I really am! I didn't mean to invite her, you have to believe me. I just…"

Mariah lets out a frustrated sigh, and I squeeze her hand, reassuring.

Her voice loses a little of its quiver as she continues. "I ran into her last month and she'd heard about the wedding and was clearly angling for an invite. She was so passive aggressive and I was just so surprised to see her back in Elderberry Falls, since she never really comes here, I wasn't thinking and I just blurted out that we'd be happy to have her. I meant to tell you, really, it's just been so busy and?—"

I cut her off. "I know. And I know just how manipulative my mom can be. Don't worry about it, Mar."

Graeme clears his throat, and we turn to find him frowning in confusion and concern.

"Is there anything more I should be aware of here? I'm sorry to have to ask about personal matters but, it doesn't seem like you and your mother are on the best of terms. Do I need to keep an eye on her this weekend?"

I force a laugh, humorless and strained. "Oh, no. My mother isn't a danger—not to me at any rate. But you should watch out. You're exactly her type."

Powerful. Unattainable. Dangerously hot.

I shove the thoughts down.

Mariah gives me a knowing look as I continue.

"Deandra might make it her mission to seduce you," I tell him, "so just watch your back. She and I… let's just say we have very different opinions about what's right and wrong, especially when it comes to using our siren powers."

I studiously avoid thinking about the affairs and very public cheating that finally led to the demise of my parents' marriage for good.

I wrap my arm through Mariah's, conviction steeling my spine. "Enough about Deandra. Let's focus on this amazing wedding we have in front of us. Time to go set up the rehearsal dinner!"

But as we walk toward Fusion, the trendy restaurant where Mariah and Thorak are hosting the dinner, I struggle to shake off the sour feelings that my mother's presence summoned up.

This wedding week just got even more complicated.

The interior of Fusion is a riot of color and noise as the rehearsal dinner winds down. Abstract art adorns the walls, splashes of bright hues that seem to pulse in time with the lively chatter of the guests. The air is thick with the mouthwatering aromas of exotic spices and sauces, a tantalizing combination of human and monster cuisine, with the menu tonight focusing on classic orcish flavors.

The traditional orc feast has concluded, and now Mariah and Thorak's guests are mingling and socializing, their laughter and animated conversations blending into a dull roar.

I'd usually be laughing and mingling right alongside them, but after everything that's happened today, I'm exhausted. Nursing my drink, I know I'm being a downer, but I just can't seem to shake the mood.

I've probably had more to drink than I should, I don't think that's helping. But after seeing my mother unexpectedly…

"Ecco!" One of Thorak's cousins drops into the seat next to me. She was a few years ahead of us in school, and in my tipsiness, I can't quite remember her name.

"So good to see you!" I say, trying not to let my bad mood show, but my voice sounds false even to myself.

My fingers tighten on my glass of berry wine as I catch a glimpse of Graeme again. He's been trying to keep out of the way during this event, which I appreciate. But even so, he's never far. And his constant hovering is suffocating tonight.

I can't even wallow in my own misery without an audience.

Thorak's cousin is saying something, but I'm not listening—all I can focus on is a flicker of movement across the room.

My crystal wine glass crashes to the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces.

For a split second, I swear I can see the same distorted figure from before—the stalker that's been haunting my nightmares. My heart leaps into my throat, my pulse pounding in my ears as I try to focus on the shadowy corner where the apparition appeared.

But as quickly as it materialized, the figure is gone, leaving me questioning my own senses.

Graeme is beside me in an instant, his body tense and coiled for action.

"What is it?" he demands, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of danger. "Did you see something?"

I nod, my breath coming in shallow gasps as I try to calm my racing heart. "I... I thought I saw them. The stalker. But it was so fast, I can't be sure..."

Graeme's jaw clenches, his expression grim. "That's it. We're leaving, now. It's not safe for you here."

The alcohol coursing through my system has made me bold, reckless. I shake my head vehemently, my blue hair whipping around my face.

"No way!" I say. "This is the rehearsal dinner, I'm not going anywhere. I'm having fun!"

The words come out slightly slurred, a dead giveaway that I'm not nearly as carefree as I'm pretending to be.

Graeme knows better. Somehow he can see right through my facade. But I'm too proud, too stubborn to admit it. I cross my arms over my chest, meeting his steely gaze with a defiant one of my own.

"Ecco, this isn't up for debate," Graeme growls, his patience clearly wearing thin. "If there's even a chance that your stalker is here, we need to get you to safety immediately."

I scowl petulantly, my lower lip jutting out in a pout. "I'm not leaving. And you can't make me!"

A beat of tense silence passes between us, a battle of wills. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Thorak's cousin discreetly stand and sneak away, clearly scared off by our little tiff. Meanwhile, frustration simmers in Graeme's eyes, that telltale muscle ticking in his jaw as he struggles to rein in his temper.

Then, without warning, he swoops down and scoops me up, throwing me over his broad shoulder like I weigh nothing at all.

I shriek in indignation, my fists pounding against his back as he strides purposefully towards the exit, ignoring the curious stares of the other guests.

"Put me down, you cretin!" I holler, my face flushing. I'm not sure if I'm more embarrassed or angry. "I swear to the gods, Graeme, if you don't let me go right this second..."

But my threats fall on deaf ears as Graeme carries me out into the night, his grip on me firm and unyielding.

Despite my fury, I can't help but notice the way his muscles ripple beneath his dress shirt, the effortless strength with which he holds me. The cool evening air does little to quell the heat rising in my cheeks or the sudden, undeniable desire that coils low in my belly at being handled this way.

Graeme's hand rests on my lower back, large and possessive, sending sparks of want skittering across my skin. I squirm against him, equal parts outraged and aroused.

"This is humiliating," I grumble, but there's less bite to my words now, my indignation slowly giving way to a reluctant thrill.

Still, I keep up a steady stream of complaints and demands all the way back to the Moonflower Inn, determined not to let Graeme see how much his bold actions are affecting me.

It's only when we're safely back in our shared room that he finally sets me down, his eyes glinting with irritation and something else. Something heated that makes my breath catch.

"You're such an ass," I huff, straightening my dress and trying to salvage my dignity. "I can't believe you just manhandled me like that in front of everyone! I'm your client, you're supposed to listen to me !"

Graeme steps closer, his large frame crowding my space, making me feel small and delicate in comparison.

"You might be my client," he says, his voice rumbling low all the way to my bones, "but your safety is my number one priority. I'll do whatever it takes to protect your life, even if that means saving you from your own reckless decisions."

With that, he turns and strides into the bathroom, leaving me gaping after him, my heart pounding and my skin tingling. I get myself ready for bed in a daze, replaying Graeme's words in my mind.

He takes his time coming back into the room, and I stubbornly tuck myself in bed, turning off the light, refusing to wait for him. He's the one who created this ridiculous situation after all, sharing a room like this.

But as I lay in the dark, staring up at the enchanted ceiling, I can still feel the phantom sensation of his touch on my body, can still hear the fierce protectiveness in his voice.

No one has ever been so intensely dedicated to my safety before, so single-minded in their determination to keep me from harm's way.

It's infuriating, and yet...

I shift restlessly beneath the sheets, trying to ignore the persistent ache in my core, the way my body thrums with a wanting I can no longer deny.

As much as I hate to admit it, Graeme's unwavering devotion to my protection is undeniably, irresistibly…

Arousing.

Just as I admit my arousal in my thoughts, the telltale vibrations of the bed beneath me thrum back to life.

I push my face into my pillow and release a silent scream.