As Hannah stopped to catch her breath, she looked behind her. A buzzed grin lit her husband's face as he grabbed her hips and pulled her closer. The bluegrass band had been replaced with a DJ, and more people were dancing than sitting. She stopped and turned to face him. Now oblivious to the crowd, she touched his face and kissed him gently. A familiar ache seeped into her bones, and she knew they'd be going up to their honeymoon suite soon. Every single guest had opted to stay overnight at the winery, and small castle would be full with their friends and family.
"You are the most beautiful girl in the world, Hannah Morgan," Abel growled low against her mouth. Pulling his new wife tightly against him, he marveled at how their bodies melded together perfectly, just as they always had. Unlike Hannah, who had been a virgin when they'd met, Abel had experienced a few girls before beginning his seven year relationship with his wife. After being with Hannah, not a single one of them could compare. She was all he needed.
"I don't know about that," Hannah replied as she broke their kiss. "I just know I am definitely the luckiest." The look in her eyes was almost savage as she stared at him. The hunger she had for Abel was plain, and Abel didn't give a fuck about propriety at this point. Without warning, he scooped his wife into his arms, cradling her. As the dancing guests registered what he was doing, they erupted in a chorus of bawdy cheers, hoots, and hollers. The tipsy groom blushed deeply as he smiled. Hannah, utterly embarrassed, buried her face his Abel's shoulder. Still, she couldn't ignore her body. It screamed for husband's touch. If that meant being carried over the threshold, so be it. Embarrassment was a price she'd gladly pay.
"Get er done, Adam!" Lala's voice rose over the music and the crowd. She'd been sneaking drinks off and on throughout the evening. She didn't know if alcohol was supposed to make loneliness more palatable, but about four shots of tequila in, she didn't really care about anything.
Hannah watched as Abel rolled his eyes. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she shrieked as he rushed out of the reception room. He practically ran down the stone corridor, thankful for the beautiful woman in his arms. It was shockingly quiet in comparison to the party they'd left behind. Abel had found the stairs, and when he'd climbed them, he carefully set Hannah on her feet. The stairs led to a long hallway, which had a singular door at the end. The couple walked towards it, knowing that the honeymoon suite awaited on the other side.
The massive, intricately carved mahogany door was a piece of art, and it flowed beautifully with the small chateau's renaissance feel. When Hannah and Abel reached it, it was Hannah who reached for the knob and opened the door.
"Oh. My. God." Abel's voiced echoed in the silence. Hannah was speechless. The room was massive, with the same large stone walls of the halls and the reception room. A gigantic King size bed sat at the center of the room. The covers were a deep green velvet, and Hannah could see a glimmer of golden bedsheets peeking out from underneath the luxurious blanket. A huge Oriental rug interwoven with various shades of green, gold, red, and brown covered the dark hardwood floors. On the small bedside tables stood three long, tall white candles, all lit. The smell of vanilla and cinnamon filled the room. It was simply beautiful. She heard the door shut behind her.
Before she could speak, she could feel Abel undoing the buttons on the back of her dress. She closed her eyes and leaned into him.
"Baby, I gotta get you out of this dress," Abel darkly whispered. Hannah hummed in anticipation and moved slightly away from him. She moved her long dark hair away and damn near swooned with the pleasure of his touch. It shouldn't feel this good, she excitedly thought. We've been together seven years. We should be bored already. The heat of her husband's skin was far from boring. Goosebumps erupted over her arms and legs as a rush of cool night air hit her bare skin. Abel carefully extracted her arms from their tight sleeves. Now exposed to the waist, with just a flesh-toned bra covering her breasts he turned her to face him.
It was her turn to make quick work of Abel's clothes. She started with pushing the navy jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor. Shaky fingers flew to his gold embossed buttons. Anxious desire made her fumble, and before she could stop him, he brushed her fingers away and undid them himself. She stayed busy by divesting herself of the rest of the dress. Abel's blue eyes widened appreciatively. Hannah was small, but her body was curvy, an hourglass of perfect proportions. Her panties, garters and stockings matched the bra, and Abel, unable to help himself, reached out to grab his wife by the waist.
"I love you, Mrs. Morgan," he whispered just before he crushed her lips with passionate kisses. As his lips moved to her throat, his fingers fought to find the clasp of her bra. She moaned into the silence, oblivious to the revel unwinding downstairs.
######################################################################################################
"You never told me you came from a long line of party animals," Will drawled. Thomas looked over at his lover, an enchanting smile plastered to his face. The evening had gone incredibly well, better than either one of them ever expected. They stood next to one another, bodies touching. Thomas had a long, lovingly possessive arm wrapped around Will's waist.
"I don't think I've ever seen them this turned up," Thomas confessed. Jax and Tara generally kept to themselves. There were less questions that way. To see them drinking with Hannah's parents was a strange sight, but it was a wonderful one. His parents looked genuinely happy. They were at ease. It didn't happen often, especially in the presence of others.
"Will-iam Char-les Lat-rie!" Lala's almost tipsy voice rang out above the music. "Get yer fine self over here and dance with yer future sister-in-law!" Lala's long, lean body moved with an expertise far greater than her eighteen years. The sophisticated chignon from before had come undone, and her chocolate brown curls bounced in time with the beat. She was shoeless and singing loudly. Thomas immediately regretted sneaking the leftover Jack to her, but the thought of Will one day being his husband was an exhilarating one, so he smiled in spite of himself.
"You heard the girl," Thomas motioned. There was a beer in his hand. "Get yer fiiine self to the dance floor!" Will laughed loudly, but he didn't have to be told twice. He loved dancing, and poor Thomas had two left feet. Lala was the perfect dance partner. Her rhythm was limitless. Will left his jacket behind, and Thomas watched as his partner, clad in charcoal slacks, a black button-down, and the sexiest set of black suspenders Thomas had ever seen, bounced in time with Lala.
Thomas was relieved at the reception Will had received. Both twins handled the news of Thomas' sexuality with the ease of youth. To them, nothing seemed strange or foreign, because the world was brand new. It was to them anyway. They loved Thomas with such veracity, it would matter if he brought Satan himself to their doorstep. As long as Thomas loved and was loved in return—that was, once again, all that mattered.
The feeling of freedom was utter insanity. Thomas couldn't believe he didn't come out sooner. If I had known they'd love me like they do—His throat ached with the need to sob. He drowned the urge in beer. They have no idea what this means to me.
"My brother loves you," Lala said as she danced. Will beamed.
"I love him," he returned. Whitney Houston's So Emotional echoed in the small reception room. "More than anyone. I'd kill for that man." Lala smiled with that statement. They undulated with the bass, mouthing lyrics as they moved. I been hearing your heartbeat beside me / I keep your photograph beside my bed—
Thomas watched, utterly enamored with Will. He marveled at his grace. Long legs moved at lightning speed, but the motions seemed effortless. Ain't it shocking what love can do—
"Get your ass out here!" Lala's voice once again rang out in over the music. Without any warning, Thomas watched helplessly as Lala rushed across the dancefloor and grabbed his hand. Scared and shell-shocked, he tensely complied. As Whitney's voice rang out, signaling the end of the song, the music instantly changed to something slower and mellower. Thomas didn't know if the DJ had seen the painful scene, but no matter what, he was instantly grateful. He turned to leave the floor, when he felt the tug of a hand stopping him.
"Dance with me, Luke," Will pleaded. His dark brown eyes were limpid pools of love and desire, and Thomas, so awestruck by the moment, easily agreed. His left feet forgotten, he moved into his lover's arms. Swaying gently to the music
Lala watched from the sidelines, open-mouthed and more than a little jealous—not of Thomas having Will—just of someone else having love in general. Her thoughts raced to Charlie, but she knew that wasn't true love. It was a good lay, nothing more. That's all she'd ever ended up having—damn good, or sometimes really bad—sex. There was never love. Ever.
Tears blurred her vision as she hurriedly left the room. She travelled down the same corridor Hannah and Abel had so recently vacated. There was a huge balcony at the end of the stone hallway, and she retreated to it. Lala needed to be alone. Her thoughts were too sad for such a wonderful moment. She never wanted to bring anyone down. After all, she was the life of the party.
The balcony was the same stone as the floors, but it had a massive wrought iron railing. Painted a distressed white, it blended beautifully with the pale cream, white, and beige stone that seemed to be everywhere. Lala gripped it tightly and allowed her lungs to fill with fresh mountain air. Something about the Blue Ridge calmed her, healed any wounds she'd inflicted upon herself. It felt good to be outside.
"I'm amazed it isn't hotter out here," a deep voice danced up her spine. She jumped and turned suddenly.
"Victor," she breathed. "You scared the hell outta me. Next time, warn a bitch when you're out here."
A low, melodic laugh trickled into her ears. "I don't necessary make a habit out of scaring young girls," he explained apologetically. "Next time, I'll make sure to warn a bitch." Lala laughed, surprised. If that had been one of her brothers, she'd rush up and pop them in the head. With Victor, who was now, in a strange way, family, none of the idiotic fury flooded her.
"You look different," Lala said without thinking. A heated blush stained her cheeks. Of course he looks different, dumbass, she cursed at herself. The last time you saw him, you weren't even in high school. The Victor she'd remembered was very tall and very skinny. Victor Sinclair had been a kid when he left Silver Spring. The Victor that stood in front of her now was heavily muscled, extremely handsome, and every single inch a man.
"You do too, Laura," Victor replied. Lala struggled with him calling her by her given name. It was weird to hear anyone use it. He reminded Lala of his father. Dr. Sinclair was the only person in this new clan that called both she and Opie by their true names, and neither one of them liked it.
"Can you call me Lala?" she asked. "Everyone else does."
"Nope," Victor returned quickly. "You're too grown, too smart, and far too pretty to be called something as childish as Lala. Leave that to your family. Laura is a nice name."
Victor's words felt like backhanded compliments. I don't want to be nice, she thought. Why couldn't he just think I'm pretty? She didn't say anything else. She turned her back and looked out into the moonless night. She heard the tap of his dress shoes on the stone. He stepped beside her and leaned on the railing. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the navy of his jacket. The white of his cap stood out in the darkness.
"Hannah and Adam chose a beautiful place," he said in an attempt at small talk.
"Mama and Daddy come here all the time," Lala stated, still not looking at him. "They suggested it, and Hannah loved it. Hannah could've wanted a wedding in Hell, and Adam would've gladly followed." Victor chuckled lightly. It was true. It was the only thing that gave him any kind of comfort. When he left all those years ago, it was in a haze of evil words and threats and lies. The only thing he regretted was leaving Hannah behind. Knowing that she had someone like Adam Morgan lifted a huge burden from his shoulders.
"Adam does love my sister," Victor said as he turned to face her. Unable to help herself, Lala faced him. God, he's hot. She remained stone-faced, determined not give the Marine the upper-hand. There was something about him that made her think he was a soldier in every area of his life. "I don't think I could see him with anyone else."
Lala turned and faced the mountains again, trying to end the conversation. The urge to just touch Victor was too strong. It was confusing, the sensations that radiated through her. She didn't necessarily want to bang Hannah's older brother, and that in and of itself was strange. She saw the faraway look in his eyes. It was the same look she saw when she looked in the mirror. She noticed the clenched jaw, the struggle to speak, and she could almost bet that, once he took of that uniform, he was the life of the party too. Victor Sinclair was too close, and it was all too weird.
The silence was deafening. This was the kind of moment that made Victor wish for a stiff drink. Adam's little sister was a beautiful girl, but her fiery personality drew him more than he thought it would. He could see the old soul that dwelled in the depths of her eyes. It was unsettling. She was barely eighteen. He was ten years her senior. She's a little girl, he thought. A gorgeous little girl, but a little girl nonetheless. He stood straight.
"I'm going in," he said. "You wanna go in with me?" Lala shook her head in the negative.
"I'll be in soon," she whispered. "I just need a minute." With a quick nod and an undetected racing heart, Victor went back inside. Lala looked out at the mountains; they scrawled a strange, almost smoky gray line across the midnight black horizon.
I'm so ready to get the fuck out of here, she thought as she stared out into the void. Maybe then I'll meet someone that kills this pain. God knows I never asked for it.
######################################################################################################
Abel's breathing was irregular as Hannah clutched him. They were drenched in sweat, and her legs were still wrapped around his waist. Her hand was on his chest; she could feel his uneven heartbeat beneath her palm. Concern crept into her as she stared into Abel's eyes. She worried about his heart condition. It'd been a long time since his last episode, but knowing that Abel's heart could give out at any time was scary as hell.
"You alright?" Abel asked as he rolled off of her. He quickly rolled onto his side and pulled Hannah close. The jagged, syncopated beating of his heart pounded against her spine.
"I was going to ask you the same thing," Hannah countered. "You feel ok?"
"My heart is fine, baby," Abel breathed. He stroked her hair, careful to avoid any tangles. "I can't help what you do to me. You're the one that makes my heart skip a beat."
Hannah groaned good-naturedly at Abel's bad joke. "You suck at puns," she firmly stated. Abel's heart corrected itself and began to beat normally again. Hannah breathed a sigh of relief.
"I love you," he mumbled into her hair. "I am so fucking lucky to have you. You are amazing." Hannah inhaled deeply.
"I love you," she returned. She lay there for a moment, content to listening to Abel's slow and steady breathing. She was almost asleep when the room began to spin. She breathed deeply again in an effort to control the constant circling. Nausea crept up her throat, and she bolted upright. Flipping her legs over the bed, she ran to the adjacent bathroom. She barely made it to the toilet. Vomit spewed from her as she knelt down.
Abel was behind her instantly. He was just as naked as she was. He reached for one of the complimentary bathrobes and draped it over his sick wife. He pulled the other from the wall hook and slipped into it. He knelt by her, holding her hair back as she retched.
"How much did you drink?" Abel queried.
"I didn't drink anything," Hannah responded. Finished throwing up the contents of her supper, she sat back, clutching at the robe.
"Did you eat something bad?" Abel fired back. If she did, then I'll have it in no time, he reasoned. A stomach virus is just the thing a honeymoon needs.
"I was going to wait until we were at the beach, but I don't see any reason to hide it anymore," Hannah said. The couple had planned a short Outer Banks trip for their honeymoon. After everyone departed the vineyard the next morning, Abel and Hannah would be on their way to the beach. They'd planned it for months. "Do you know if your mama managed to get my purse up here?"
Abel was confused. Hannah wasn't making sense. Maybe she did drink and just doesn't remember. With all the insanity of that day, it made sense. She could've easily gotten everything jumbled. Instead of questioning, Abel went back into the bedroom. Flicking on the light, he quickly surveyed the room, and in the corner, just between the door and the dresser, rested Hannah's purse. Quickly, he scooped it into his hands and went to the bathroom.
Hannah had managed to pull the robe on and tie it shut. She was pale. Now it was Abel's time to worry.
"What'd you need the bag for?" Abel asked. Without speaking, she reached into the bag and pulled out a small, oblong rectangular box. Abel reddened with embarrassment.
"I didn't get you anything," he said quietly. He was still unsure of what the hell was happening.
"Just open it," she gently demanded. Guilt edged Abel's eyes as he opened his wife's gift. Pulling back the tissue paper, he understood how it all tied together.
"You're pregnant?" Abel's voice cracked with the question. The test's two pink lines stared back at him, and he didn't know whether to weep from happiness or shout it from the mountain tops. Unable to hold it together any longer, Hannah nodded as tears streamed down her face. They decided just before the wedding to stop Hannah's birth control. Two months would be plenty of time to get Hannah's body in prime baby making mode. They wanted kids fast; neither one of them realized it would be that fast.
"About eight weeks, according the doctor," Hannah weepily replied. "I'm pretty sure we did it on the first try." She laughed through her tears. "Talk about timing, huh? I just barely fit in my dress today. It was almost too tight. I'm just amazed that we got knocked up that fast."
Silently, Abel gathered Hannah into his arms. He'd started his day a young, single guy, and he was ending it married with a baby on the way. It was pure madness to think how twenty-four hours could change everything. Hannah's vows rang in his ears. One day, you will be my baby's father, and I know that, if I go first, you will be the one holding my hand so I'm not alone. He tipped Hannah's tear-stained face up to his and kissed her gently. You'll never be alone, Hannah Morgan. Not while my heart is still beating. His hand instinctively went to her belly as she twined her fingers in his golden hair. Abel opened his eyes and stared into Hannah's.
"I can't believe I'm gonna be a—"Abel's words were silenced by a scream. It was distant, but it was loud. Peel after peel of what sounded like pure terror echoed from outside. It didn't cease or taper off; in fact, it grew louder and louder as the seconds passed. Abel carefully but quickly extracted himself from his wife's grasp. Jumping to his feet, he padded across the bathroom's marble floors and ran to the bedroom. Hannah quickly scrambled to her feet as well and followed Abel out. Before Hannah could grasp what was happening, Abel had already managed to throw on his pants and his button-down. It flew behind him as he rushed to leave.
Swinging the massive wooden door, he was startled to see Tara there, her hand ready to knock. Still dressed in her beautiful Grecian gown, her face was ghostly and her arms, Abel immediately noticed, were covered in goosebumps.
"I know, Mama," Abel said through clenched teeth. "Dad and Luke downstairs?" Tara nodded as Abel rushed past her. Hannah's heart hammered against her chest as she tried to comprehend what was happening.
"What's going on?" Hannah stammered as Tara entered the room. Tara was visibly shaking. A mix of worry, terror, heartbreak, and sadness etched the older woman's eyes and her lips. In the quick moments that Tara hesitated, Hannah tightened her robe, grabbed slippers, and readied herself to leave. Grabbing Tara's hand, they bolted from the room, and Hannah repeated her question. "Mom, did you hear me? Do you know what's going on?"
"I don't know, Hannah," she whispered breathlessly as they practically ran down the stairs. "But I've only heard that sound once before, a lifetime ago, and the sound came from Opie's lips."