“That helps, actually,” I said after silence had filled the air. “Do you really believe it?”

My grandfather smiled. “I believe it’s possible. But I’m not sure there’s anyone on earth entirely sure what’s in that man’s head, Merit.”

That wasn’t much of a surprise.

• • •

I refused to let circumstances I couldn’t control affect my mood. Mallory, Lindsey, Margot, and I danced until my feet were numb with it, and I’d had more champagne than I should have, and not nearly enough food.

“Well, well,” Mallory said, sidling next to me as we took a breather between songs. “Looks like you managed it.”

“What?” I asked, and turned in the direction of her pointing. Jonah and Margot stood in a corner, nearly hidden by an enormous potted palm. He was taller than her by nearly a foot, his auburn hair and chiseled face interesting contrasts against her sleek black bob and curvy figure.

Margot laughed at something he said, touched his arm in a gesture of camaraderie. It was a simple, easy move, something she’d probably done a thousand times before. But they both seemed startled by the contact and looked away, both with secret smiles. Smiles full of hope.

A woman walked by, offered a tray of hors d’oeuvres. Jonah held up a hand to decline, but Margot laughed, took his arm, pointed to the tray, began explaining the snacks arranged there while Jonah looked on. He looked suspicious when she pointed to something, but agreed to try it, popped it into his mouth.

And then closed his eyes in obvious satisfaction.

“I told you,” she mouthed, the words easy enough to read on her smiling face, and nudged him with her elbow.

I wanted to rub my hands together and cackle in satisfaction. But gloating seemed like bad juju at my own wedding.

Mallory put an arm at my waist. “You know what’s amazing?”

I let my head drop to her shoulder. “What’s that, kid?”

“We’ve made it through a wedding and reception without supernatural drama.”

“If you just jinxed us I’m going to be so pissed.”

“Jinxing isn’t a thing. Charming? Yes. Hexing? Absolutely. But not jinx. That’s just coincidence.”

“What, supernaturally, did you expect to happen?”

She snorted. “Anything and everything? You know how it is—life for the Real Cadogan Housewives.”

“That should never be an actual thing.”

“Au contraire,” Mallory said. “I would watch the shit out of that.”

I bet she wasn’t the only one.

CHAPTER SEVEN

DELUSIONS OF GRANDEUR

When hunger got the best of me—there’d been no time to even sample the beautiful food Margot had put together—I grabbed a spiraling cheese straw from a basket and ducked into a corner to munch it.

I wasn’t officially sure if Margot had put crack in it, but it was good enough that I instantaneously wanted another. I carefully dusted off my hands, trying not to get Parmesan-scented crumbs on my dress, and emerged from behind a potted palm.

“And there’s the beautiful bride,” Gabriel said. He was tall and tawny, with golden skin and blond-brown hair streaked by the sun. He’d traded his usual jeans and leather jacket for slacks, a button-down shirt, and a blazer, but the clothes just made him seem more feral. Tarzan, newly emerged from the jungle, disguising muscle beneath a suit.

“Merit, you look lovely. And it was a lovely wedding. I hope your husband proves himself worthy.”

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” I said with a smile. I glanced around, didn’t see Tanya. “Where’s your lovely wife?”

He gestured across the room, where Tanya—slender and delicate, with brown hair and blue eyes—sat at a table with my grandfather. He was talking animatedly while she scribbled something on a small pad of paper, smiling as she wrote.

He smiled. “She’s borrowing your grandmother’s meat-loaf recipe.”

“Excellent choice,” I said with a nod. My grandmother had been a fantastic cook.

He pulled a hip flask from his coat pocket, offered it as Ethan joined us. “May I offer you a congratulatory drink, Kitten?”

Ethan’s smile looked pleasant, but there was steel behind it. “I’ll thank you not to call my wife ‘Kitten.’”

Gabriel grinned. “Wondered when you’d get around to saying that.”

“And now you know.”

“So I do.”

“Drink,” I requested, and took the flask from Gabe’s hand, sipped it suspiciously, and was pleasantly surprised. It was Scotch, or so I thought. Dark and oaky, but still as smooth as honey, and with the same citrusy sweetness.

I handed the flask to Ethan. He lifted his eyebrows but took a drink, and surprise crossed his face, too.

“Well,” he said, and took another. “It’s like . . . drinking sunshine.”

Gabe took back the flask, capped it. “This is a little something we’ve been working on.” His smile went sly. “We’re happy with the first results.”

Ethan slipped his hands into his pockets. “Are you looking for investors?”

That sly smile went positively wolfish. “Shifters in bed with vampires? That’s a dangerous game.”

“Too dangerous for the Apex of the North American Central Pack?”

“Didn’t you once say we were family?” I teased.

At the word “family,” a shadow crossed his face, and the dread in his eyes chilled my blood. I didn’t like seeing that emotion on Gabriel Keene, who was as fearless as they came.

“What is it?” Ethan asked.

Gabriel shook his head. “It’s your wedding.” He uncapped the flask he hadn’t yet put away, took a drink of his own before tucking it away.

“It’s our life,” Ethan said. “And our city. If you know something . . .”

Gabriel had prophesied Ethan and I would have a child—the first among vampires. Historically, three vampires had been conceived, but none were carried to term.

There’d been a caveat to our possible miracle: We’d have to face some unspecified test before it happened, and even the drama of the last year hadn’t filled that horrible quota.

Gabriel turned and looked at me, seemed nearly to look through me in that shifter way of his. “You need to be on your game.” He looked at Ethan. “Both of you.”

“Meaning?” Ethan asked, a thread of concern in his voice.

“Meaning . . .” He paused, seemed to grapple for words. “There’s something in the air. Something I don’t like. Something uncomfortable.”

The chill grew stronger, lifting goose bumps on my arms as I thought of my conversation with Mallory . . .

“What kind of something?” Ethan asked.

Gabriel just shook his head. “That’s the problem. I don’t know.”

“Is it a general unease?” I quietly asked. “A malaise?”

He looked surprised, then suspicious.

“Mallory said the same thing,” I explained. “That she had a sense of dread and didn’t know why. Couldn’t identify a reason for it. Catcher didn’t sense anything, and she didn’t want to talk to you because she was afraid she was just being paranoid.”

Gabriel shook his head. “I don’t like this.”

“Why do you think it’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” he said, and looked back at us. “You know prophecy isn’t exact. I get senses, images, but I don’t know details.”

“But?” I said.

“But it feels like the world is shifting. And with it, the future. Your future.” He glanced down at my abdomen. “His or her future.”

I hadn’t taken the idea of a child for granted, or hadn’t meant to. I knew the future was uncertain. But that didn’t ease the fear that clutched at me, that made me feel preternaturally protective of someone who didn’t even exist yet.

Ethan moved a step closer, as if to bring me within the sphere of his protection. “You’ve already said we’d be tested.”