Of Blood & Consequence (Book 2 of The Blood Bond Series)

43. Content

The rest of the premier passed by uneventfully, and applause broke out at the end of the movie until Cassie gave the first deep breath she'd taken since the beginning of the evening. It might not be an epic drama or the next Star Wars, but it seemed to be well-received by those attending.

An after-party had been planned at a popular location, The Roosevelt Hotel on Hollywood Boulevard, right across from Madam Tussaud's wax museum. Guests stomped over the star of Julio Iglesias on their way in, eager for booze and laughter and the kind of elbow rubbing you expected with the rich elite, but it didn't seem pretentious to Delia, and she relaxed as they sipped cocktails they didn't particularly want, gazing at each other as people took them in, whispering admiringly about Michael and wondering who the diminutive female was on his arm was.

"They're talking about you, you know," she told him, smiling. They could hear what was being said as easily as if they'd been talking directly to the couple, and Delia was proud. It was all good things. Admiring things. Looking at Michael like he hung the moon saving everyone's favorite new ingenue.

"So, I see." He seemed almost embarrassed by the attention, a slight dark light echoing in his eyes.

The crowd around them seemed almost hesitant to approach, but eventually the producer and director came by, shaking Michael's hand and thanking him profusely. Apparently, someone had been sending things to Eva onset, and there had been gifts also brought to the gate of her home, though no one had known who the man was until today.

And this wasn't the man's first rodeo with starlets or the criminal justice system. He'd been incarcerated for stalking another celebrity a few years earlier, but when Eva came on the scene, young and beautiful and new, his obsession went from fixated on his former crush to intent on winning over the new object of his affection.

Soon more people showed up, shaking hands with Michael, asking him if he was an actor. He looked stunned. He'd never thought to become one, and he wasn't all that interested in their offers of him reading for them—whatever on earth that meant. He was gracious when they proffered their business cards, but ultimately always declined. He was happy the way he was, and it would have been hell to try and figure out how to trick makeup artists in to believing he was aging when it was so obvious he wasn't.

And couldn't.

At one point, they took to the dance floor, a slow jazz number that had many of the couples joining them to dance as Under The Sea played softly.

"You saved a life—two lives today," Delia murmured to him as she kept close, gently rubbing her hands over his firm, muscular shoulders.

"It...but I didn't know that," he told her. It was almost as if he was wary of taking too much credit, although it was so obviously his to grab hold of. "I only knew that he had a knife. The man—he looked crazy. Dangerous."

"Doesn't matter if you knew. You did it, and you need to remember that." She took a deep breath. "Every time you think of the woman with the baby you couldn't save, I want you to think of Eva and her baby. Mike, even. Who knows if that lunatic would have turned on him next, maybe cut his throat and made that baby fatherless before it was even born? Would you do that for me? Remember?"

He hesitated briefly, then nodded his head enough to placate her for the moment. "I'll try. I can't always see past what I've done, but I'm trying to be better. For you. For our future family. For everyone in our lives that cares for us."

"We all are family. Cassie, the babies, even Eli, that old sourpuss. And his family by extension. Family—not by blood or birth, but family at heart still."