Dianne Duvall: Night Reigns

David winced. “Damn it, Marcus. She’s like a daughter to me.”

He frowned. “Well, stay out of my head.”

“What’d I miss?” Darnell asked.

“You don’t want to know,” David murmured.

Seth popped back in. “Done. The shoes are waiting for her in the hallway, just outside the Quiet Room.”

“Thanks,” Marcus said.

Seth sank into the chair he had occupied earlier.

A door opened downstairs.

Marcus’s heart leapt, slamming against his ribs as he rose.

“Oh,” he heard Ami say, a soft exclamation of pleased surprise.

He smiled at Seth.

Seth smiled back as he and the others rose and moved to stand at Marcus’s side.

Ami’s light footfalls, normally silent, made tapping noises as she approached.

When she stepped into the doorway, Marcus lost his breath and, for many long moments, could only stare.

Her hair was its usual mop of fiery curls, a fetching contrast to the elegant formality of her gown.

Marcus swallowed. She had left it natural for him. He much preferred it to stiff, hair-sprayed perfection and had told her often how much he enjoyed burying his face in the silky tresses and combing his fingers through it.

The black gown left her slender shoulders bare. He had chosen black to reinforce her inclusion in their makeshift family, and it offered a beautiful contrast to her pale, perfect skin. The bodice molded to her full breasts, providing only a hint of cleavage. (More than once, she had expressed her astonishment over how much flesh women routinely exposed here on Earth. On Lasara, women’s clothing was far more conservative, tantalizing without exposing the goods, as she put it.) The dark material hugged her narrow waist, clung to her hips, then flared out in a wealth of material that fell to her ankles, giving him only a glimpse of the black, high-heeled shoes Seth had fetched for her.

She was so beautiful Marcus couldn’t find his voice.

Ami had to work hard not to gape when she reached the study. Marcus, Seth, David, and Darnell all wore stunning black suits, black shirts, black ties, and black dress shoes. David’s long thin dreadlocks were drawn back with a leather tie into a soft mass that fell to his hips. Seth’s wavy tresses were similarly bound, the ends brushing his waist. Darnell’s smooth-shaven head gleamed beneath the overhead lights. And Marcus ...

Marcus’s hair was tamed and confined in a tail, too, the sable softness shining against the material of the jacket he had donned since leaving her. A tie lay neatly knotted at his collar.

He was nothing short of gorgeous. All of them were. If they went out like this, they wouldn’t be able to hunt vampires because they would be fighting off the women in droves!

But Marcus most of all. He was the one who sent her heart soaring and sped her pulse. He was the one who had sparked white-hot passion within her, inspired her to find a strength she had thought never to possess again, and lit her life with laughter and teasing.

His eyes met and held hers, glowing faintly with such fierce love she thought she might weep.

“Hi,” she said, emotion choking her.

Marcus crossed the room with a smooth, prowling gait that made her think of balmy nights and beds with rumpled sheets. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured as he stopped in front of her.

Heat flooded her face. “Thank you. So are you.”

He raised a hand to her cheek, offered a featherlight caress.

“Are we going out?” she asked, curious about the formal wear and, frankly, trying to distract herself from the rising need to launch herself into Marcus’s arms.

“No.” Taking her left hand in his, he slid his right arm around her waist and escorted her over to the others.

They seemed pretty somber, but ... she didn’t feel any kind of trepidation radiating from them that might warn of bad news.

What was going on?

“Ami,” Marcus said, drawing her attention once more, “I know, from the stories you’ve told me of your world, that Lasaran society is guided by rules and traditions that, in certain areas, are not unlike those of the time in which I was born. And I wanted to do this right, in a way that would best emulate the customs we would follow were we on Lasara.” He drew her hand to his lips for a kiss. “Your own family is distant. I regret that I cannot meet them in person. At least, not yet.” He motioned to his brethren. “But Seth, David, and Darnell have become your family here on Earth.”

“Joyfully,” David added in his deep, warm voice.

Ami smiled. She did consider them family.

“For this reason,” Marcus continued, “I have brought you before them to profess my deep, profound love for you, my desire to keep you by my side always, and to ask their permission to marry you if you are willing to so honor me.”

Ami’s chest swelled. With a happiness so great she wondered that her feet still touched the floor. With sorrow that this man she so adored would never meet her father, mother, or brothers. And with thanksgiving that she had found such a loyal, loving new family here.

Her vision blurred with tears. Ami bit her lip, blinked the moisture back, and smiled. “I’m willing. I’m very willing.”

Eyes flaring bright amber, Marcus ducked his head and brushed his lips against hers in a tender kiss, then turned to the others. “Seth, David, Darnell ... I respectfully ask your permission to wed Amiriska, your daughter, your sister,”—he met each of their eyes in turn—“and give you my word that I will love and cherish her always, put her happiness before my own, and protect her with my life forevermore.”

Seth held out his hand. “You have my permission, Marcus. I wish you both every happiness.”

David offered his hand next. “You have my permission as well and my congratulations on losing your heart to a woman unequaled.” He smiled at Ami. “You’ve chosen an honorable man, Ami. I could not be happier for the both of you.”

Darnell pulled Marcus into a jubilant hug. “Welcome to the family. This has been a long time coming.” He grinned as he stepped back. “Apparently you were just waiting for the perfect woman.”

Then it was Ami’s turn to be enclosed in large, muscled arms and passed to the next set as her surrogate family expressed their pleasure over her finding so much happiness after enduring such a horrific initiation to this world.

Ami wiped her damp cheeks as she turned back to Marcus.

Marcus kissed her again, then dropped to both knees. Slipping one hand into his pocket, he withdrew a ring. “Most women in our society prefer gold and diamonds,” he began, uncertainty creeping into his expression and dimming the happiness there. “But, knowing what I do of your world, I wanted this to be not an expression of wealth or status but a true symbol of our union.”

He held up a small, wide silver band whose only ornamentation lay in a dark inscription of some sort. “While gold is weak and malleable, silver is strong.”

She smiled. “Like the love we share.”

A hint of relief touched his returning smile. “Yes.”

She pointed to the dark markings etched into the gleaming metal. “I don’t recognize these symbols.”

“It’s Hebrew. The Scripture of Ruth, taken from the Bible. Loosely translated it means: Where you go, I will follow. Your home will be my home. Your family will be my family. Your people will be my people. And I mean that, Ami. I never want to be parted from you again. Should you at some point in the future find a way to return to Lasara, I will abandon my life here without a single regret and accompany you.”

“Marcus ...”

“Until such time ... my home is your home, Ami. My family”—he glanced at their smiling audience—“is your family. My people are your people.” He took her left hand in his and slid the heavy band over her ring finger. “Will you marry me?”