Chapter 14 Put Down Roots #2
“We’ve always kept everything digital.” His fingers paused over the keyboard. “It was easier when we moved around so much. Safer, too.”
Made sense. The constant relocating, the missions that sent them around the world at a moment’s notice. Physical mementos were luxuries they couldn’t afford, not when they might need to disappear in the middle of the night, leaving everything behind except weapons and essential gear.
“But you have a home now,” I reminded him. “Evermere isn’t going anywhere.”
“No, but books can burn,” he mumbled.
“So can we,” Zane scoffed, “but we keep breathing, anyway, yeah?”
Brumous yipped in agreement, his blue eyes bright and attentive.
“See? Even Brummy thinks it’s a good idea.” I smiled at the wolf, who wagged his tail happily. “And someday, when we have children, you could share it with them. Let them know about the amazing woman who helped raise their dads.”
The word “children” dropped into the conversation like a bomb. Zane’s body went rigid beside me, and his eyes widened to comical proportions.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” His hands flew up in surrender position. “What happened to Project: No Oopsie Babies?” He made frantic cutting motions across his throat while mouthing “abort mission” at me.
Casimir cleared his throat, sitting up even straighter, an impressive feat considering his normal posture was already perfect.
“You have no ovulation window at the moment, Seri, because your cycle has not yet resumed. The statistical likelihood of conception is approximately less than one fourth of one percent—”
“Oh, my Goddess!” I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “I wasn’t suggesting we conceive babies right this second!”
Koa’s deep laugh rumbled around us, amused at his brothers’ panic.
“Cruor! You can’t just drop the C-word without warning, buttercup!” Breathing hard, Zane clutched his chest. “I think I just lost three years of my life!”
“Which C-word? Children? Conceive?”
“Both! Any word that implies tiny creatures that share our DNA!”
Brumous, thoroughly confused, hopped down from the armchair and trotted over to sniff at Zane’s foot, head tilted in canine concern.
“Relax, Zoodle.” I reached over to pat his knee. “I promise there will be no babies until we’re all ready. We’ve discussed it. Extensively. With official charts and diagrams, courtesy of Simmy.”
“Thank you,” Casimir said with his usual seriousness. “Proper planning is essential for—”
“For the love of the eternal night!” Zane erupted. “I cannot handle Dr. Cimmerian’s Supernatural Family Planning PowerPointTM right now!”
“You know,” Casimir ignored him, “there are services online where you can create a high-quality photo book. Professional binding, archival paper, multiple copies available.”
“You’ve researched it?” I stared at him, not sure why I was surprised by this.
“I research everything,” he replied without a hint of self-consciousness.
“That’s actually a good idea,” Koa said.
“Of course it is.” Casimir nodded. “All the benefits of a physical memento without any of Seri’s crafting chaos.”
“Hey!” I protested.
“Bunny, we all saw what happened when you tried to make Sebastian a birthday card,” Zane reminded me. “There was glitter in places glitter should never be. For days.”
“I’m still finding it in the weapons locker,” Casimir said.
“That’s because someone knocked over the entire container!” I said, poking Zane’s ribs accusingly.
“And the Brumeister sneezed sparkles the rest of the day,” he smirked.
“Fine.” I sighed, conceding defeat. “A professionally made photo book does sound lovely.”
Koa nodded, but there was something in his expression, a flicker of worry that made me reach for his hand again.
“Even if all these photos disappeared tomorrow, she wouldn’t be forgotten,” I said.
“How do you know that?”
“Because I see her in you every day. In how you take care of me, how you protect what you love. In your quiet strength. That didn’t come from nowhere, Koa. That came from her.”
“She would have loved you.” His eyes met mine, and what I saw in them made my breath catch. “She’d have called you keiki before you finished introducing yourself, then stuffed you full of cookies.”
“I would have loved her, too,” I promised.
Casimir cleared his throat, probably uncomfortable with so much raw emotion.
“If we’re going to do this, we should select a service with good reviews. Five-star minimum. And check their privacy policy.”
“Of course you should,” I said, biting back a smile. Some things never changed, and Casimir’s need to vet everything was one of them.
Koa opened a new browser tab and searched for photo book services. Brumous came over and pressed his heavy weight against my legs and laid his head on my chest. I stroked his ears gently as I watched Koa navigate through the options.
“This one has good reviews,” Koa said, clicking on a site. “And they offer leather-bound options.”
“Ooh, fancy.” Zane draped himself over Brumous and me to see the screen. “What about that one with the beach theme? That seems fitting for Hawaii, right?”
“It’s a bit tourist-trap,” Casimir critiqued. “What about something more subtle? The one with the tropical leaf embossing?”
I bit back a smile. For men who claimed to have no interest in aesthetics, they certainly had opinions!
After much debate, they settled on a simple leather cover with a tasteful island-inspired pattern embossed along the spine, something that nodded to Mahina’s heritage without being ‘tourist-trap.’
“Which photos?” Casimir asked, most likely already sorting them in his mind into categories. I could almost guess them, too: Never, no, acceptable, yes, and definitely.
“All of them.” I shrugged. “It says you can add as many pages as you want.”
So Koa uploaded the photos, and the site automatically arranged them chronologically, to Casimir’s great satisfaction.
“Should we add captions? Dates?” Koa asked.
“Maybe just the years,” I suggested. “And possibly a quote on the title page?”
“ ‘Ohana,” Casimir said immediately. “That’s all it needs to say.”
“And a photo,” Zane insisted.
Koa added the word to the title page, then looked at Zane, who motioned for the laptop. His long pianist fingers flew across the touchpad, then he handed the laptop back to Koa. Curious, I looked at the photo he’d chosen and saw Mahina mid-laugh, her head tipped back and sunlight haloing her.
“That’s Mom. That’s how I remember her.” Zane swallowed hard, no mischief in his eyes as he whispered, “Please.”
“It’s perfect,” I said as Casimir and Koa both nodded in agreement.
When Koa went to the checkout, he added four copies to the cart.
“One for each of us.”
“Add two more,” Casimir said. “One for Sebastian and one for the library as an archive copy.”
That made tears spring to my eyes. My monsters were finally allowing themselves to put down roots. To build something lasting.
After completing the purchase, Koa closed the laptop and looked at me as if half-expecting me to say something profound. Instead, I reached over and took his hand, giving it a squeeze.
No words were needed. They echoed through our hearts without needing to be spoken aloud.
Brumous sighed, his head under my chin, as if he understood. Zane flopped against my shoulder, his face half-buried in Brumous’ ruff. Casimir sat with his usual stillness, but his eyes were somewhere far away, maybe in a kitchen where cookies baked and evening primrose sat on a windowsill.
#
The lunar magic theory book in my lap weighed approximately eight thousand pounds.
At least, that’s how it felt after two hours of reading about moon phase influence on gravitational spells and shadow walking. I’d expected studying my powers to be exciting. Instead, I was drowning in technical jargon that made my brain feel like it was leaking out of my ears.
When the sound of raised voices echoed down the hallway, I welcomed the distraction like a drowning woman grabbing a life preserver.
“That is not what I said!” Casimir’s voice carried down the corridor, sharp enough to cut glass.
I gently closed the book, taking special care not to damage the ancient leather binding. Not because I respected the book that had tortured me all morning, but because Casimir would deliver one of his hour-long lectures on the proper handling of medieval texts if I so much as dog-eared a page.
“Look, I’m just saying maybe we should consider—” Koa’s voice dropped to an even lower rumble than usual, his deep baritone stroking down my spine.
“We considered. We decided. It’s done.” Casimir’s tone brooked no argument.
I padded out of the library on silent feet, my curiosity officially piqued.
Living with three supernatural men was like having front-row seats to the world’s most chaotic improv show.
Sometimes it was unexpectedly dangerous.
Like Koa sharpening all the butter knives into scalpels.
Sometimes it was surprisingly sweet. Like Casimir color-coding my closet in the middle of the night because the “disorganization was causing physical pain.” And sometimes it was devastatingly hilarious.
Like Zane asking if inserting a tampon caused me to orgasm, which earned him a head smack from Koa and an hour-long educational lecture from Casimir.
But it was never, ever boring.
As I crept down the hallway toward the security room where the voices originated, I heard a third voice join the fray.
“Both of you need to calm down,” Zane growled. “This isn’t helping.”
“Oh, that’s rich coming from Mr. ‘Let Me Punch Through A Wall Instead Of Using The Door’ Cimmerian,” Casimir shot back.
“That was one time, and there was an actual emergency.”
“You were late for breakfast!”
“Waffles are serious business.”
I stifled a laugh as I peeked inside the partially open door. Three broad, tense shoulders blocked most of my view, but just as I was about to announce my presence, Koa threw his hands up in exasperation.
“Cruor!” he roared, the word exploding from him and rattling things in the room. “Why are you so stubborn?!”