She’d been battling that label ever since high school. She’d been tall and gangly without any grace whatsoever. Boys made fun of her. Until she spelled them, of course, but still the ridicule hurt. And managed to stay with her. Obviously.
Even some in the magical world thought her silly. One of them just happened to be in attendance. Because of her belief in astrology and signs and portents, some called her a pseudo witch. She just had a firm belief in fate. Some things were meant to be. And some were not. She wasn’t quite sure in what category to put her growing attraction to the human crime scene investigator.
When Hector had her tight in his arms, she’d actually felt willowy and dainty. Maybe it was because he was so masculine and sexy. He wasn’t a huge man like a brutish bodybuilder, but he was a little bit taller than she was, and he possessed wide shoulders and hands. She liked how they felt around her, on her. As if he could lift her up and hold her, the way Atlas held the world. Corny, she knew, but it was still how she felt.
Maybe she was romantizing the event too much. Hector saved her. He probably did that a lot considering the line of work he was in. She shouldn’t read into his actions. He did it because that was the kind of man he was. An everyday hero. It definitely wasn’t because he found her irresistible.
Someone nudged her in the ribs. “Fi, I’ve been talking to you for the past two minutes.”
Fiona blinked into Lyra’s big brown eyes. “I’m sorry. I was thinking about something.”
“Was this something tall, dark and named Hector Morales?”
She shook her head but looked down at her feet. “No. I was thinking about how lovely your ceremony was and how happy you look.”
“Yeah, I’d believe that, if you hadn’t been looking at Hector the entire time.”
“I wasn’t,” she sputtered.
Lyra arched a brow. “Uh-huh.”
“Okay, maybe a little.”
Lyra put her arm around her shoulders. “Hector’s a good man. You could use a good man in your life.”
Fiona looked sideways at her. “You know, when I said that to you eight months ago, you nearly hit me.”
“Well, that was before.”
Fiona saw the looks Lyra and Theron were trading from across the room. It was full-blown heart-pounding love. A little pang of jealousy stabbed at her. She wanted that. A man who looked at her as if he couldn’t take his next breath without her at his side.
She couldn’t have been happier that Lyra had found that kind of relationship with Theron. Her cousin had been far too long alone.
“I see Oliver is here.”
Lyra frowned. “Yeah, Theron thought it was best that we invite members of all the powerful families in the city and from Europe. You know, to keep the peace between species.”
“Is it working?” Fiona asked.
Lyra shrugged. “Who the hell knows?”
After the last pictures were taken, the wedding party took their places at the head table and the meal was served. Starving, Fiona savored the salmon, rice pilaf and roasted asparagus spears. It wasn’t until she caught Hector’s gaze from across the room that she was aware that she had some of the lemon saffron cream smeared on her chin. Mortified, she grabbed the linen napkin and hid her face.
When she peeked past the napkin, she saw that Hector was still looking at her, a smile on his handsome face. She smiled in return and waved her napkin like a flag. An “I surrender” flag. Could she be a bigger dork? Not wanting to know the answer to that question, Fiona excused herself from the table and went in search of a glass of wine. Maybe if it looked like she was drinking, people would assume she was drunk and that was the reason why she was so inelegant.
She sidled up to the bar, which was located near the stone fountain, and ordered a white wine spritzer. As she waited for her drink, she admired the white twinkling lights all over the rooftop. It gave the whole place a magical atmosphere, as if Lyra and Theron had gotten married in the sky among thousands of blazing stars.
She smiled at her whimsy, obviously overwhelmed by the enchanting ceremony. During a night like this one, it seemed anything was possible. At least the lights were still on. That was something. She hadn’t blown out the breaker. She’d done that once at prom. It wasn’t one of her best events.
Taking a sip from her glass, Fiona turned, intending to go back to the table when she came face-to-face with Hector. Surprised, she said, “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Can I buy you a drink?” she asked.
“Ah, it’s an open bar, isn’t it?”
Fiona winced at her gaffe. “Right.”
“Did you enjoy the meal?”
She nodded. “Yes, it was very good.” She chuckled. “But you probably could see that by the sauce all over my face.”
“It was just on your chin.”
She laughed and was about to say something else, when Henri, Theron’s best man from France, stood up to make an announcement.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Theron and Lyra will now for the first time dance as husband and wife.”
The crowd started to clap as soft music started to play, and Theron led Lyra out onto the dance floor. Fiona watched, a wistful smile on her face, as the happy couple moved gracefully across the floor, their gazes never leaving each other.
Startled, Fiona felt a hand at the small of her back. She glanced up. Hector was standing right next to her.
“Would you like to dance?”
She nodded and he took her wine glass from her and set it onto the bar counter. He then took her hand in his and led her to the dance floor. Caine and Eve, and Jace and Tala, whose belly was swollen with twins, all coworkers of Lyra’s from the crime lab, were already whirling around the floor with the bride and groom.
“I’m not much of a dancer,” Fiona admitted.
“Me, neither,” Hector said with a smile. He pulled her in close, his hand settled firmly at the small of her back. “I’m sure we’ll manage.”
And manage they did. By the time the song was over, she was giddy. Having Hector so close, his heart hammering against hers, made the insides of her thighs squeeze tight. His scent was subtle—a combination of spice and clean soap—and it tickled her senses. She liked his smell. It made her feel safe and secure. As did his strong arms encircling her body.
After the last notes of the song played and everyone was clapping, Hector looked at her. His mouth was a mere inch from hers. She held her breath, thinking he was going to kiss her. She wanted him to, desperately. Her lips parted in invitation.
“May I cut in?”
Startled, Fiona nearly knocked her head against Hector’s. She turned and saw Oliver, a witch from one of the wealthy magical families, standing next to them waiting, a winning smile on his pale face. He was also her ex-boyfriend.
“Of course,” Hector said, and relinquished his hold on her, although she could tell that he didn’t want to. “I can’t keep all the beautiful ladies to myself.”
“No, you certainly cannot.” Oliver said it with a smile, but Fiona didn’t feel the lightheartedness of the statement in his words. There was really nothing lighthearted about Oliver.
Hector didn’t comment, but he lifted one eyebrow in question.
Oliver laughed. “I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?” He took Fiona’s hand and brought his other around to rest at her waist.
“No of course not.” Hector tipped his head and took a step back.
But Fiona didn’t want him to go. She wanted to dance with him still. She wanted that moment back. That moment, that beautiful perfect second, right before his lips touched hers and their breath mingled in sighs of release. As she watched Hector walk away, she wondered if she’d ever get that moment again.
The music started and Oliver waltzed her around the room. What she really wanted to do was to stomp on the man’s foot.
“It’s nice to see you again, Fiona. You’re looking very well.”
“Thank you,” she said between clenched teeth.
“Are you not happy to see me?”
“You don’t want me to lie, do you?”
He laughed. “Oh, Fiona. I’ve always enjoyed your sense of humor.”
“Can we just dance? I’m not in the mood to talk to you about anything of importance.”
He didn’t respond, but she got the feeling that he wasn’t very happy with her comments. She was beyond caring. She just wanted to get out of his arms and back into Hector’s, where she could feel safe and cared for. Because she was feeling the exact opposite being held by Oliver.
Chapter 3
Feeling slightly jilted, Hector returned to his table. He sat and watched as Fiona was waltzed around the dance floor by another man. It wasn’t as if he could say no when the man asked if he could cut in. It would’ve been rude. And he really didn’t want to appear rude, not in a room full of Otherworlders. By the looks of it, Eve and he were the only humans at the ceremony. An honor to be certain, but a precarious one as well.
Not all Otherworlders were as open and welcoming as the members of the OCU. He’d learned that over the past couple of years he’d been working with them.
He sipped his drink as the next song started up and the man took Fiona for another dance. He was looking at her as if he was quite enchanted. Hector couldn’t blame the guy. He’d been bewitched, as well, by the breathtaking, statuesque redhead.
“Sitting this one out?”
Hector nodded as his friend Caine slid into the vacant seat next to him. “I’m not much of a dancer.”
“It looked like you were doing quite well before.”
He glanced at the vampire, knowingly. “Yeah, well, I had a good partner.”
“Fiona’s a lovely woman. I haven’t known her long. A couple of years at most. But she is definitely a person that remains in your memory long after.”
Hector looked at Fiona as she danced. She was smiling and her silken hair swung around her like dancing flames. How his fingers itched to touch it, to touch her again. Her skin had been smooth in his, and when he’d spun her around in the dance he could feel her heart racing as wildly as his.