Chapter 17

Mexico truly was spectacular, especially on the oceanfront and Brooklynn was a bundle of nerves as Mark made all the arrangements for their wedding. It would be short, sweet and simple, just like them. Magic played a huge factor in giving them exactly what they wanted, a little persuasion and money went a long way. She made sure to pack something white, which was a simple white dress that was sleeveless and went to her knees with a V-shaped neckline. Her feet were bare in the sand and she had a bouquet of an assortment of white flowers, including a white flower crown on top of her head.

When it was time to walk, she took a deep breath and made her way toward Mark, chewing her bottom lip at the smoldering look he gave her. It was enough to make her weak in the knees, even after 17 years of being together. They were under a veranda of sorts Mark created with magic, keeping the sun out of their faces as it began setting on the horizon. She discovered what Mark's issue had been – no ring, so they rectified that and picked them out at a local jewelry store before the ceremony.

It was an amethyst stone, princess cut, with diamonds on each side, nothing fancy or over the top, set on a white gold band. Mark's ring was white gold and had an amethyst stone in it that matched hers, though it was a lot smaller than her stone. After their vows were said and they were pronounced husband and wife, Mark lifted Brooklynn in his arms and kissed her breathlessly, the sun glittering on the ocean. He was right; this was the perfect place to get married.

Should have gone with the tattoos. This ring is disgusting and not us. A black band would have been better. His thoughts were somewhat runaway these days and he knew it, though he shoved them out of mind, as much as he was able too. She was a vision in white and all his. Ours. She is all ours.

He had seen enough, expended enough energy… it was going to take a lot more time to properly 'wake up' and he left them to their disgustingly happy moment, lapsing back into slumber.

For a split second, his eyes had gone from emerald to acid green and then back to emerald again. Brooklynn was completely consumed in his kiss that sealed the deal between them to notice the slight change. When they parted, she glowed up at him and caressed his face with her hand, kissing him again.

"My husband…that's going to sound so weird to say for a while, you know that right?" She had called him her man for so many years, but now they were permanently locked together forever. "Being called Mrs. Calaway is going to be even weirder, but I love the sound of it."

Part of the service was the paperwork being filed immediately and they had signed all that earlier, so… he wasn't worried about that. He knew in so many weeks they'd get all the legal documents proving they were husband and wife, in the mail, and the great state of Texas would as well. "Mmm, Mrs. Calaway, I like it…" He growled, lifting her bridal style and spinning in a slow circle with her. "I like the sound of that, I should've put a ring on your ass a long time ago."

"Yeah, but better late than never." She rested her forehead against his, taking the crown of flowers off her head and tossed it aside before kissing him again. "I've always been yours, Mark. Only yours." All these years, all this time, the beautiful home they built together and their beautiful daughter they were so proud of and created. Marriage was just a formality, but apparently, one Mark wanted now. "Now, I do believe you promised me real Tequila on the beach, followed by getting down and dirty, my husband." Maybe it wouldn't be that hard to call him that after all.

"Real tequila my wife shall have."

Laughing, Mark carried her down the ways to where lounging chairs, a low table on the sand and their tequila waited. Along with proper tequila drinking glasses because tequila wasn't meant to be shot. He lowered her down, foregoing the chair for a spread-out blanket and reached for the bottle, showing it to her.

"See, actual tequila is made from only one kind of agave plant, the blue agave, whereas its bastard cousin can be made from any. And this bottle, darlin', is some special shit because apparently, it's extra, extra aged."

"Oh wow…" Mark cracked open the bottle, filling each tequila glass and handed hers over, their eyes locking. "You are amazing. Everything you do for me…and Claira, you're simply incredible and I love you now as much as I did when I first met you."

Even in his darker days, when his other counterpart had more control, Brooklynn had fallen for him and he claimed she was the light in his life. They clinked their glasses together, took pulls from their glasses and snuggled together while watching the sunset. Beneath her 'wedding dress' was a white bathing suit, just in case they wanted to dip in the ocean.

This had been a brilliant idea. They needed to get away more, even without the excuse of getting married… Mark realized that he and Brooklynn had precious little time together outside of their bedroom, without the demands of their house, daughter, work… or spirits, in her case. He suddenly prayed all the Mexican ghosts stayed away from his wife during their time here.

Making love and consummating their marriage on the beach was the perfect way to end the night. Mark had put up a barrier that canceled out their noises and made sure to pick a very secluded part of the beach. She'd never been so drenched in her life, not sure if it was the environment or the fact she was now this man's wife. Either way, the smell and taste of him, combined with Tequila, was mouthwatering. Hours later, under the full lit moon and glittering stars, on the rumpled blanket with a half bottle of Tequila gone, Mark was spooned up against her back to keep both their naked bodies warm. Brooklynn never wanted to leave, deciding if she died now, she would pass into the light with no regrets and happily. What a way to go to die in the arms of the one she loved, her husband.

Brooklynn was sound asleep, and so was Mark. Glittering, venomous eyes stared down at his wife, a long finger reaching out to blaze a path down her bare shoulder, to her arm and finally to her hand and that wedding ring. He touched it, watching the gem flash brightly for a moment before fading and felt his lips curving into a sneer. For 17 years, he had been dormant, locked away by Bastet and, unlike Mark, he didn't have consciousness when stuck in a feline. He had just been 'asleep'; he wasn't overly amused at learning he had slept 17 years of his life away. There was quite a bit to catch up on, but not tonight, not when he was still coming out of his weakened state.

"Soon, Lynn," He hissed softly, already fading back. "Soon."

She was married to Mark, not the Undertaker, and if Brooklynn thought for a second, she was in the arms of Undertaker and not her beloved Mark, she would've run in the opposite direction as far away as she could. Undertaker terrified her, and she knew he didn't love her. He didn't love anyone. She shivered in her sleep at his voice, even though they were in a warm, comfortable bed in their hotel suite with his arms around her.

It was no surprise when she woke up in that same dark room, another dream, black sheets on the bed and she immediately drew the sheets up to her chest, her breathing turning uneven. "Why am I here… again?"

Last time, he had throttled her, and it had scared the hell out of her. Instinctively, Brooklynn moved up on the bed as those glittering venomous eyes shone through the blackness of the room. Looking down at her left hand, she saw the beautiful ring on her left finger and felt tears sting her eyes, wanting to be back with Mark.

"Why are you here, Lynn?" His voice echoed in the darkness and the stone flashed from purple to acid green, the same shade as his eyes. "Why are we here…. am I on your mind as of late, Precious?" He stepped out of the shadows, moving so he was towering at the foot of the bed, bare from the waist up and stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"No, hell no, fuck no, absolutely not!" She gritted her teeth, scooting back further to where her back pressed against the headboard and noticed the stone on her finger wasn't amethyst. "I don't want to be here with the likes of you. I just got married to the love of my life and I want to go back to him."

Taker was invading her dreams somehow, he had to be. Bastet…was He released when the cat died? No…no, Mark would feel that happening and stop it. He was strong enough to push back his darker half and had a happy, satisfied life.

"Go away." Closing her eyes, Brooklynn willed herself to wake up out of this dream. "Go away, go away, go away…"

Her eyes snapped open to meet his, shaking her head repeatedly. "No, you're not. He hasn't needed or wanted you back in 17 years, and neither have I! We're happy without you – I don't love you, I love Mark and nothing you say or do will ever change that." Her hands shot up to stop him from hovering over her, digging her nails in his chest and felt her arms tremble because he was slowly pushing back. "Go away…GO AWAY!" Brooklynn tried scooting away from him, but he had her pinned and felt as if her heart would fly out of her chest at any second from how fast it was pounding. "Let go of me! Mark!" She had to wake up, she had to wake up NOW!

"I'm hurt, Lynn… well and truly hurt," His lips were now on her throat and, in this dream, she had no power, as it had been proven already. "You act like I've harmed you… and I've never, would never, and you know it." Because, as he had said, he and Mark were the same, just extreme opposites. He had always wondered if maybe he was one of those twins that wound up cannibalized in utero, which is why Mark and he had these issues.

"Y-You did though! T-The last time…the last dream, you throttled me and told me not to give you a reason to hurt me! P-Please…" Brooklynn was shaking, tears stinging her eyes as he continued caressing her throat with his lips, his strong hands kneading her sides. "Please don't hurt me…" Mark, wake me up now, her mind screamed, wishing there was a way out of here and felt the sheet being pulled from her body, his lips now hovering over hers. Instead, he brushed her tears away with his lips and groaned at the saltiness they gave off, making another shiver rush through her.

"They're your dreams, Lynn, not mine…" Taker said very pointedly, nipping at her pulse point as his hands skimmed up her ribs to curl beneath her shoulders, drawing her body up with his.

His head bent forward, dropping kisses along her collarbone and then down to her now bare chest. If she was having dreams of him throttling her, that was her problem. Neither Mark nor himself had ever laid hands on her, and neither probably would. This part of Mark scared her more than she would ever admit out loud. Brooklynn also couldn't deny being with Mark/Taker felt amazing; it was the same body, the same lips, the same tongue, the same fluids movements and motions…the same cock. And it was currently probing her, his naked body aligned with hers and all Brooklynn could do was moan, bringing his mouth down on hers.

"I love you, Mark…" She heard him growl and gripped him, his teeth sinking into the spot where her neck met her shoulder, clinging to him for dear life. There was no throttling this time, even though she did call him the wrong name and Brooklynn became lost in the ecstasy, the darkness enveloping her as he brought her to heights only they could reach together…

Just as she came, the dream was over as Brooklynn bolted upright in bed, gasping for air and felt Mark stir beside her, trembling from head to toe. "Damn it, what the fuck is going on?" She whispered, looking down at the ring on her finger that was back to its original amethyst color and turned to study her sleeping husband. "Why am I dreaming about Him now, after all this time?" Extracting herself carefully from the bed, Brooklynn grabbed the silk robe and pulled it on before stepping out on the balcony, seeing the sun was just rising on the horizon.

Mark woke up to an empty bed, but the spot Brooklynn's body had occupied was still warm. He had woken up in the early AM hours and carried her inside from the beach, figuring neither of them would appreciate being seen naked by a bunch of strangers. Yawning, he rolled onto his side, staring out onto the balcony and inhaled as the breeze came through, bringing Brooklynn's scent along with it. Not bothering with clothes or a sheet, he rolled out of the bed and trailed after her, wrapping his arms around her upper body and rest his chin on top of her head. Brooklynn closed her eyes and leaned back against his chest, caressing his tattooed sleeved arms, relishing the feeling of being with Mark, not Undertaker.

"Sorry if I woke you. I had…another nightmare and I needed some air. It's not a spirit, just so you know. They're leaving me alone for the time being, haven't seen one since we left home." He kissed her neck and tightened his arms around her, while she tried wrapping her mind around the fact she was dreaming about his counterpart…the part of him she didn't want to ever encounter again.

Obviously, she did want to encounter him again if she was dreaming about him. She wanted him to fuck her senseless the way his counterpart only wished he could.

"No ghosts, at all?" When she shook her head, Mark snorted. "Hell, maybe we should move here." Fat chance. A lot of people tended to die in Mexico, due to the drug issues and gang wars. Brooklynn and Claira would both lose their respective minds in a week, minimum.