11. Ecco

11

ECCO

T he glory of the enchanted gardens at Rosewood Mansion takes my breath away as I make my way down the glittering ivory aisle runner, Minx prancing proudly at my side. Moonflowers and irises line the path, their petals shimmering in the glow of floating candles.

Ahead, a flower-draped arbor frames Thorak's imposing figure, his slim, elven best friend Finnian a contrast beside him.

Gruna walks alongside me, leading Thorak's teacup boar Snuffles, who trots dutifully with Thorak's wedding bracelet balanced on his back. Minx wears Mariah's more delicate bracelet around her fluffy neck.

The adorable pair of pets draws coos from the assembled guests. Two vastly different, equally precious creatures united in their important roles.

My gaze drifts to the front row and my step falters. Graeme sits there looking like sin in a suit, his pale blue eyes burning into me.

Memories of last night flood back—the way he manhandled me out of the rehearsal dinner, his hard body pressed against mine, that dangerous gleam in his eye...

No.

I wrench my eyes away, my heart pounding. I can't think about Graeme right now, about the confusing whirlwind of frustration and desire he stirs in me.

Instead, I focus on my dad. His silver-streaked hair shines under the lantern light as he leads the wedding band in a soft, lilting melody. I raise my hand in a small wave. He sees and winks back.

Gruna and I reach the altar, removing the bracelets from our furry charges and handing them to Robert Kingsley, the officiant. The music reaches a crescendo and Mariah appears at the end of the aisle on her father's arm, a vision in shimmering ivory lace and golden orc jewelry.

"Oh my gods," I breathe, tears pricking my eyes.

Mariah is radiant, regal. The enchanted beadwork on her gown casts her in an ethereal glow as she makes her way towards us. When she reaches the front, she takes Thorak's hand, her smile brighter than all the floating lanterns combined, and I swallow around the emotion rising in my throat.

My best friend is getting her happily ever after. And as Robert begins the ceremony, his voice rich and resonant, I can't help but wonder...

Will I ever have that? That once-in-a-lifetime, against-all-odds kind of love?

Instead, I've just had a string of disappointments, men who wanted something from me, or were jealous of my success, or tricked me into thinking that we had something real.

My treacherous gaze strays to Graeme again, his stony features inscrutable.

I have a sinking feeling that even if I did find that fairy tale ending with some gorgeous guy at the wedding tonight… Graeme would never let me out of his sight long enough to enjoy it.

The reception is in full swing inside the grand ballroom of Rosewood Mansion. Enchanted lanterns float above us, casting a warm glow on the revelry below. I weave through the crowd, taking my maid of honor duties seriously, making sure everyone has a drink and a smile.

"Ecco, this is amazing!" Laurelle gushes, pulling me into a lavender-scented hug. "You and Mariah have outdone yourselves! And your song for Mariah and Thorak was so gorgeous, honey."

"Aww, thanks Auntie," I beam, my heart full to bursting. I pull back and watch as her eyes clock the shadow standing behind me.

Graeme has followed me every step of the reception, refusing to let me get even five feet away from him aside from when I sang Mariah and Thorak's surprise first dance song.

Laurelle's smile grows. "Is this your boyfriend?"

"No," Graeme and I say loudly at the same time, and then scowl at each other. I'm officially in need of a break from his presence.

I make excuses to use the bathroom, which finally gets me a few moments alone. Locked in the powder room, I take the opportunity to breathe. Process. And get my game face back on for a bunch more socializing and small talk.

But as I make my way back into the hall and over to the bar for a much-needed glass of champagne, I stop dead in my tracks.

Because there, draped over Graeme like a designer scarf, is my mother.

"Deandra," I say through gritted teeth, my nails digging into my palms. "What are you doing?"

She looks up at me through lowered lashes, a feline smile curving her lips. "Oh, hello darling. I was just getting to know your delicious bodyguard a little better."

My blood practically boils. Irritation flares hot and bright, pulsing behind my eyes like a headache. They met yesterday, I'm her daughter, this man has to be practically glued to my side… yet nothing is off-limits for Deandra's avaricious talons.

The spicy-tart taste of jealousy blooms in my mouth as I watch her fingers trail over his chiseled arm.

I don't even like him, but he's mine , damn it.

My… my employee. My pain in the ass gargoyle.

I paste on an expression so saccharine it could melt teeth. "Sorry to interrupt, but I need to borrow Graeme. Wedding stuff, you understand."

Without waiting for a response, I grab his elbow, my fingertips sparking at the contact, and steer him away from the bar. Away from my mother and her wandering hands.

Graeme arches a granite brow. "Wedding stuff?"

"Oh, shut up," I snap, letting go of him like he's made of hellfire. "You should be thanking me."

"For what, exactly?" His voice is a low rumble, the sound prickling along my skin.

I toss my hair, fighting the urge to stomp my foot like a petulant child. "For saving you from Hurricane Deandra. Trust me, you couldn't handle her."

Something flashes in his eyes, there and gone too quickly to decipher. "I can handle quite a lot, Ecco. More than you give me credit for." The rough purr of his voice travels straight to my core.

I bite my lip, holding his gaze for a breathless moment. The air grows heavy, charged with a tension totally outside of the issue of my mother.

Then I force a laugh, breaking the moment. I'm not touching that claim with a ten-foot pole; it feels like we're on the edge of a very dangerous precipice.

"I'm sure that's true," I say. "Now, can you just wait here for a minute so I can talk to Deandra alone?"

Graeme looks like he's going to argue, but something in my face must convince him I need the space, because he nods instead.

I find my mother by the dessert table, doing indecent things with the frosting on a cupcake. Gods, she instantly sets my teeth on edge. Can't she ever just be normal?

"Mother. You need to control yourself."

She blinks at me. "What are you talking about?"

I scoff. "Don't give me that little act. I know just what you're doing, and I need you to stop. Graeme is off-limits!"

Deandra puts down her cupcake, rolling her eyes. "Oh please, Ecco. Don't be so dramatic. I was just talking to him."

My jaw drops, incredulous. "That's not what I saw! You're throwing yourself at my bodyguard at my best friend's wedding. It's completely inappropriate!"

I swear I see hurt flicker across Deandra's face, but it's gone before I can be sure, replaced by cool indifference. "Well, forgive me for being inappropriate. I didn't realize I was such an embarrassment to you."

Is it possible that I was reading into their interaction too much? That my mother wasn't trying to seduce Graeme?

Ugh.

She always does this. Makes me feel guilty, like I'm the one who's out of line.

"That's not... I didn't mean it like that," I say with a huff. "It's just, Graeme's here to work, not to be harassed by drunk divorcées."

Deandra flinches as if she's been slapped. "Message received," she says coldly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need some air."

She brushes past me, leaving me confused and conflicted.

Just what she's best at. Creating a mess.

I throw myself back into the festivities, determined to focus on anything but the brooding gargoyle at my back and my mother sending me frosty glances across the room.

I chat with Mariah's cousins, gush over the adorable cake topper, and snap selfies with Snuffles and Minx, who've been let loose to revel now that their important duties are complete.

I'm cooing over the adorable photos, trying to decide which ones to share, when a charming elf with a cool ombre fade and a dazzling smile approaches me, his hand extended in invitation.

"May I have this dance?" the elf asks.

Just as I'm about to accept, eager for a distraction from my rioting thoughts, Graeme clears his throat behind me.

"Actually," Graeme rumbles, stepping forward with a scowl, "Ms. Waverly's dance card is full. Security reasons, you understand."

The elf blinks, taken aback, but quickly recovers with a gracious nod. "Of course, my apologies." He slinks back into the crowd, disappearing among the swirl of ball gowns and tuxedos.

I whirl on Graeme, eyebrows raised and anger sparking behind my breastbone. "Since when do I have a dance card? And since when are you in charge of it?"

Graeme shrugs, utterly unrepentant. "Since you have a target on your back. I can't let you dance with just anyone."

I scoff, planting my hands on my hips. The audacity of him!

"It's a wedding, Graeme! I think I'm allowed to have a little fun!"

His jaw tightens, his eyes flashing like blue fire. "Not with strangers, you're not."

Oh, that is it .

Seething, I step into his space, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze head-on. "Fine. Then you're dancing with me."

Graeme tenses, his expression unreadable, and I think he's going to turn me down flat. This stone-hearted alpha asshole probably doesn't do something as passionate and sensual as dance.

But then, without a word, he extends his hand to me, his eyes blazing with an unspoken challenge. My anger gives way to nervous anticipation as I slide my fingers into his rough palm.

What in the seven hells am I doing?

This is the opposite of keeping my distance. The opposite of not doing something reckless and foolish.

But as Graeme leads me onto the dance floor, his touch searing through the thin silk of my dress, I can't bring myself to care.

I want this. I want him.

Even if it's just for one dance.

Graeme pulls me close, one hand resting on the small of my back, the other entwining with mine. As we start to move, I'm struck by how graceful he is, how effortlessly he leads me in a dance that's somehow both elegant and sensual.

Every point where our bodies touch is electric, his cold skin rough even through his suit. I'm hyper-aware of the flex of his muscles beneath my fingertips, the sway of my hips against his, the heat building between us with every step and turn.

Graeme's pale blue eyes burn into mine, intense and unwavering. The rest of the room fades away until it's just the two of us, swaying to the music, lost in each other.

My heart races, my blood singing with a need I can no longer deny. I want to run my hands over every inch of his chiseled body. To taste his lips.

To have his weight pressing me into the mattress.

Graeme spins me out and then reels me back in, my back colliding with his solid chest. His hand splays across my stomach, holding me to him as we move in sync. I let my head fall back against his shoulder, my eyes fluttering closed as I surrender to the sensations coursing through me.

My whole body is alight, every cell crying out for more.

I know suddenly and surely that I must have this man, if he'd have me, too. I want to know everything about him.

What he feels like underneath me and inside of me.

Maybe Mariah is right. Maybe it's time to throw caution to the wind and have a wedding fling.

Just for one night only.

Surely I can survive one night without giving my heart away.