Blood of the Maple

“Perv.”

Brian shook his head. He was becoming used to his unusual new family, and Parker couldn’t be happier about it. “Greg and I want to get married.”

Parker blinked. “Is that legal in Maryland?”

“Dude. I’m pretty sure necrophilia is illegal in all fifty-two states.”

If he could have blushed, he would have. “I meant male-male marriage. Pillock.”

“I’m dead. Legal has nothing to do with it.”

“We want to share our love, and no perv jokes, okay?” Brian looked nervous. “I guess we want your permission. You’re the closest thing to family Greg has. It would mean a lot to both of us to know you approved.”

Parker choked, touched that they’d ask him. “You don’t need my permission, but you have my blessing.” He shook his finger at Greg’s amorphous form. Was it Maggie’s Grove that had lent him that extra bit of strength, or was it the ghost’s bond to his lover? “I’d damn well better be your best man.”

“Wouldn’t want anyone else.”

Parker hugged Brian. “Congratulations, Greg.” He gave Brian his best sad face. “My condolences. Now you’ll be stuck with him forever. Almost like a hemorrhoid.”

“Don’t make me tell the Great Cactus Story of ’69.”

Brian was about to burst into laughter at any moment. “Do I want to know?”

“Yes.”

“No.” Parker glared at where he assumed Greg was. “I will so dump your ashes in the Atlantic and make you late for your own wedding.” He turned back to Brian. “Seriously. Where do you want to hold the ceremony, and who do you want to officiate?”

Brian’s shy look was bloody endearing. “We haven’t worked out all of the details yet. He asked me last night.”

“Oh. That explains all the moaning and thumping.”

Brian was horrified. “You heard that?”

Parker hadn’t heard a thing. He’d been too busy making love to Amara. A monkey could have been banging on his head with a coconut and he wouldn’t have cared. “Oh yes. It sounded like you had quite the time.”

Brian, wide-eyed, turned and began walking away. “Tell me about the cactus thing.”

“Don’t you dare, Greg!” Parker started to scramble after the pair but was brought up short by a hand on his arm. A very strong hand. “Can I help you?”

Noah Wulfenbach’s teeth were clenched. “I’m here to apologize.”

Parker shook free of the werewolf’s grasp. “Where did you go the other night? One moment you were racing along behind us, the next you were gone.” Most of the pack had returned, but enough hadn’t that Parker was pissed.

Noah grumbled, low and full of discontent. “One of ours was taken.”

Parker relaxed, some of his anger drifting away. “Bloody hell. Is he all right?”

“He’s missing. One of my strongest too.” Noah leaned back against a convenient pillar and shoved his hands into his tuxedo’s pockets. “We can’t find a damn trace of him.”

“Shit.” Parker rubbed his chin. “You think this has anything to do with Iva going missing?” The dryads were still looking but hadn’t found a trace of her yet.

Noah twitched. “Possibly. No one asked my opinion before. How long has she been gone, and why haven’t they said anything?”

“Is it your beta who’s missing?” Parker shot back.

“No. One of my enforcers.”

Parker’s eyes widened, and he whistled softly. “Damn. An enforcer would be tough to take down.”

“Which is why I think it was more than one person who did it.”

“Hell.” He looked around, but he could no longer see Greer or Ash. “Greer and Ash need to know about this.”

“I know your loyalty is to the dryads, but—” Noah sighed, “—we could use your, and Amara’s, help.”

He didn’t even have to think about it. “Of course.”

Noah straightened slowly, removing his hands from the pockets of his tux. “That’s it? You’ll help me? No making me grovel? No asking for favors?”

“You’ll grovel all right, but onstage, and to my wife. Other than that? We agreed that once you did, all would be forgiven. And if two of our people are missing, who else could get taken? Amara? Brian? Even Greg?” Parker shook his head. “I think we need to talk to Mina, Dragos and Selena, get their take on this as well.”

Noah nodded. He clapped Parker’s shoulder, and if he hadn’t been a vampire, he would have been driven to his knees at the force of it. “You’re good people, Parker Hollis.”

“Wonderful.” Parker tried not to wheeze, but he was pretty sure his elbow was somewhere down by his knee. Actually it would be difficult not to wheeze, considering his lung was folded in half. He straightened as best he could once Noah lifted his hand. “Where is Amara? It’s about time for your apology, I believe.”

Noah winced, but he followed Parker toward the stage.

“Amara, sweet?”

“Hmm?”

“Noah is here and needs to talk to you.”

“He doesn’t have to do this, Parker.”

Parker had made a pact, and by damn the alpha would stick to it. “Yes, he does. It’s a man thing. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Uh-huh. Where should I meet you?”

“By the stage, sweet.”

“On my way.”

“Everything ready?” Dragos, looking both suave and surly, appeared at his elbow. He grunted hello at Noah, who grunted back.

“Yes. And we need to have a powwow when this is over. It seems one of Noah’s enforcers has gone missing. It’s possible the same person may have Iva Yamauchi.”

“Yew?” That seemed to snap Dragos out of his self-imposed pity party. “You think they’ve been kidnapped?”

Noah glanced up at the stage as the music came to an end. “There’s my cue. We’ll finish this discussion later.”

“Come on, big guy. A few simple words and this will all be over.” Parker followed Noah onstage but stood back, letting him be the center of attention.

Noah stepped up to the edge and took a deep breath. The crowd turned quiet, waiting for Noah to speak. They all knew what was coming. Some were anticipating it with glee, others with dread. For some reason Parker didn’t think the alpha would take out his embarrassment on his pack; the man, for all he could be an arrogant jerk, had bone-deep integrity and a sincere desire to protect what was his.

Noah’s gaze raked the throng. “Two weeks ago my pack hunted an innocent woman.”

There were murmurs of disbelief, mostly from those who, despite evidence to the contrary and testimony from witnesses, still believed Amara was responsible for the deaths. Those voices were few, but Parker knew who each one belonged to.

He’d already visited a few of their dreams. He’d warned them, after all.

“We learned the hard way that you do not go after a dryad in her woods, especially a hamadryad.”

Most of the crowd laughed at that, some darting sly glances at Amara, others nodding in either understanding or approval.

“Yet she did nothing that would cause us permanent harm. She taught us a lesson and nothing more. And when we learned she was not the one responsible for the tragedy that occurred here, we realized some form of reparation would have to be made.”