CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Shadow
The rest of the guests have left by the time the werekittens eventually burn through their first-ever sugar high and fall asleep in a furry heap beside one of the picnic tables.
Kayla plops down onto the wooden bench beside me and sneaks a peek at the napping younglings. “I didn’t think we were going to survive the Sugarpocalypse.”
“You’re the one who gave them pie and cobbler,” I say.
“They were little pieces.” She holds her thumb and finger an inch apart. “I didn’t realize they’d never had sugar before until they went hyper. And I think I saw Dewdrop sneaking them extra pineapple chunks.”
“Oh, there’s no doubt about it. He definitely snuck them extra pineapple chunks.”
She huffs a soft laugh. “Thank god we didn’t break out the ice cream.”
Mist emerges from the house. “I’m going to put the younglings to bed.” I help her get a firm hold on all three, and she flashes me a knowing grin and whispers, “I’ll make sure they stay out of your rooms tonight.”
Once I’m alone with Kayla, I shift into a man and pull off my shirt.
“There you go, getting naked again.”
“All the different foods the werekittens left on me are getting to be a little too much for my shifter sense of smell.” I hold it up to show off the tiny handprints, then toss it to the other end of the table.
“Excuses, excuses,” she says, a playful look in her eyes.
I love that look and like to think I played a big part in putting it there.
“Did you have a good time?” I want her to like the handfasting, since I hope for us to repeat the ceremony for real someday soon.
“I did. I kinda liked that there wasn’t an officiant, just two people making promises to each other.”
“I suppose you could say magic is the officiant. The orcs even have a magical crystal that will detect if the vows are true, but for most other fae, the enchanted ribbons are enough.” I pull the ribbon we used out of my pocket and wrap it around her neck before tying the ends together. “There, a symbol of our union.”
“You mean a fake ribbon for a fake union.”
“It doesn’t have to be fake.” I pick up her hand. “We could go upstairs right now and consummate, and none of this would be fake.”
“I can’t.” Old pain flashes through her beautiful brown eyes. “All that stuff I told you about my father and how he controlled me?”
I nod. “I remember.”
“Right now, the problem isn’t about marrying you or not marrying you. It’s that Victoria took away my choice.”
“That’s why the marriage contract is so hard for you to accept.
” As the realization hits, pain pinches my heart.
I hate what her parents did to her, the way they tried to squash her strong spirit.
Lifting her hand, I place a kiss on her palm.
“I understand. After everything your parents put you through, you deserve to feel in control of your life.”
Kayla sighs with relief, her shoulders relaxing, then whispers, “I’m not saying I don’t want us to be together. But if we’re going to do this, I need it to be because we both freely choose it.”
“It’s only a week. I can wait.” I’ve played the game of courtship this long. I can wait a little longer, because I’m playing for the most important thing of all, and I refuse to lose.
Her love. Our future.
“You’ll do that for me?” she asks.
“I’ll do anything for you.” She wants to wait another week to make sure what we have is real? I’ll simply show her I love her in other ways. I cup her face and kiss her, soft and slow and teasing, until we’re both gasping with need.
Then I take her inside and worship her like the goddess she is.
When Kayla’s alarm goes off for the fourth time the following morning, I greet her with a mocha.
She reaches for the coffee with both hands, fingers wiggling, and takes a big sip. “You are a god among men,” she husks, voice sleep rough.
“I thought you upgraded me to god,” I tease, smirking and curling the tip of my tongue around a fang. “You certainly screamed it enough last night.”
“I’ll write you into a game as the Cunning God.” She offers me one of her new, playful smiles, more precious than any gold. “It’ll work on both levels. You’ll be a clever trickster god, and you’ll be the god of cunnilingus.”
“Perfect,” I purr. “Have the character look like me, and make T-shirts so I can wear one.”
My witchy beauty laughs. “You got it. I’ll make you so popular you’ll have merch.”
“Of course I will.” I gesture up and down my body. “I’m magnificent.”
“And humble.”
“I’m a cat. We don’t do humble. We don’t need to.” The patter of tiny footsteps comes from the stairs. “Speaking of cats—”
Victoria opens the door, and the werekittens burst into the room, all three wearing T-shirts and shorts. “Look at us!” “We can play video games now!” “Show us, please!”
They leap onto the bed and start bouncing so hard I have to swoop forward and save Kayla’s cup before her coffee can spill.
“They can’t wait for you to teach them how to play Super Mario,” I say.
All three kits stop bouncing and gather at Kayla’s side, turning huge, pitiful eyes on her. Wisp lets a plaintive “Please” slip out, her tiny voice wavering as if she’s on the verge of tears.
The little con artists.
They’re amazingly hard to resist when they look this adorable, but I’ve had practice.
My witchy beauty has not. Her eyes widen, and she blurts, “Of course I’ll teach you!”
They cheer and clamber onto her for quick hugs, then race for the living room.
She turns to me. “Did I just get played?”
“You did.” I hand her the coffee.
We eat breakfast together in the kitchen, Victoria opening and closing cupboards as needed while also carrying on a conversation with Mother about human cooking techniques. When we finish eating, Kayla sets up a tablet for the two of them so they can watch cooking videos on YouTube.
The rest of us go to the living room, where Kayla syncs the children’s game controller to the Switch and starts teaching them how to play Super Mario.
She remains equally patient with all three of them, as they each take their turns, explaining both the controls and the details of gameplay over and over while Mist and I watch.
When I head into the kitchen for more coffee, I bring Mother back with me. “You need to see this.”
We watch as Dawn makes the little cartoon man leap for a power-up star, her tiny hands flying across the controls.
“Look at how good they already are with their hands,” I murmur.
“Way to go, Dawn!” Kayla says. “Now make sure you get that stack of gold.”
Mother whispers, “She’s good with them.”
“She is.” Patient and giving and kind. She regularly asks each of them if they’re still having fun or if there’s something else they’d rather do. Kayla’s making sure they always have a choice—she’s respecting their ability to choose for themselves, even though they’re young.
I’ve never felt prouder of her for overcoming how her parents treated her to become this amazing woman.
This woman I love.
This woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.