Ilona Andrews: Magic Binds

I held out my hand and he slipped a ring on my finger.

“Your turn,” Roman told me. “I, Kate Daniels . . .”

“I, Kate Daniels, take you, Curran Lennart, to be my friend, my lover, the father of my children, and my husband. I will be yours in times of plenty and in times of want, in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow, in failure and in triumph. I promise to love no other, to cherish and respect you, to care for you and protect you, and stay with you, for all eternity.”

I took the ring from the pillow and slid it on his finger.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Roman said. “May your life be rich in blessings and poor in misfortunes. May you see your children’s children grow up and make you proud. May your fights be short, your laughter loud, and your passion hot. May you live long and die happy. You may now kiss each other.”

Curran reached for me. I kissed him and the world faded.

We broke apart, turned, and I saw my father standing behind the tables, wrapped in his cloak. He smiled at me and vanished.

Roman waved his arm and a murder of crows shot out of the forest, flew above our heads and up into the sky.

“I don’t do doves,” Roman said.

Then there was cake and toasts and gifts. We jumped over the Ivan Kupala bonfire. The party got loud, then louder. People laughed. Wine flowed. We danced, and then everyone danced. The Pack danced, the People applauded.

Curran wrapped his hands around me. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Come with me. I have to tell you something.”

I followed him behind the tent. “What is it?”

He picked me up and took off into the woods. I laughed and wrapped my arms around him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m kidnapping my wife.”

We shot through the woods. “Do you even know where you’re going?”

“Yes.”

He turned and stopped. We were under a massive tree. To the right the narrow brook gurgled its way through the forest. A blanket waited under the tree next to a cooler.

“You planned this.”

“Yes, I did.” He knelt on the blanket, still holding me. “You look . . . You look.”

I cracked up.

“And whatever the hell that scent is from those flowers is driving me crazy.” He took my crown off and looked at me. “Nope. Not the flowers.”

I kissed him, tasting him, teasing his tongue, and he kissed me back, eager and tender. The kiss turned possessive, and when I came up for air, I wanted all my clothes off.

“I finally caught you,” he said. “You can’t get away now. I love you, Kate Lennart.”

“I love you too, Curran Lennart,” I whispered, and kissed him, enjoying every delicious moment. “For all eternity.”

MARRIED LIFE WASN’T much different than single life, I decided, reaching for the stove. It had been two weeks since our wedding. Things were almost back to normal. There were still breakfasts to be made and bacon to be cooked. Atlanta was slowly picking up the pieces.

The Pack had lost sixty-two shapeshifters. Nineteen were younger than twenty. The Jackal alpha became a widower. Desandra lost her beta. Clan Nimble’s alpha pair mourned their oldest daughter. Both of Barabas’s legs were broken when a magical bull knocked him off his feet and then trampled him. Christopher had a full-on nervous breakdown and almost leveled what remained of the Keep’s wall before Doolittle managed to convince him that Barabas wouldn’t die. The wall was now being rebuilt.

Two knights of the Order and four mercs didn’t come back from the battlefield. My father’s chariot had been stripped and dismantled. The golden panels turned out to be real gold, which was completely unsurprising, knowing my father. The surviving mercs claimed it as spoils of war, and the Guild had made a fortune off it. We’d have no shortage of volunteers for the next battle.

A quarter of the Casino’s vampires were destroyed. Oddly, Ghastek didn’t seem concerned about it. He had this strange smile on his face when I talked to him about it. After I was done, he’d leaned toward me and said, “He fled.” I had a feeling that was all he cared about. Just when I thought I had Ghastek all figured out, he threw me a curveball. But he was right. No matter what we did or said, one inescapable fact remained. We had beaten my father. We won the battle. We didn’t win the war. The war was still coming. But we had beaten him this time. He lost.

I opened the oven. The smell of cooked bacon hit me. Mayday. I charged across the kitchen into the bathroom and threw up.

Oh no.

I cradled my stomach, reaching with my magic, gently, softly, and felt a tiny spark.

“Kate?” Curran said outside the door. “Are you okay in there?”

“Yeah. I’ll be a minute.”

I washed my mouth, splashed cold water on my face, and opened the door.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“I’m pregnant,” I said.