Chapter 19
Eb
“You know, I survived one accident this week, but I think I almost died eighteen times on the way here, Eb! I’m telling Mom!”
I don’t dignify my brother with a response.
Just a growl.
And then I’m out of the car, leaving Bobby to hobble after me like a wounded raccoon in designer crutches. He’ll live. Probably long enough to exaggerate this car ride to our mother, who will undoubtedly guilt-trip me into holiday penance.
Whatever.
I toss my keys to the valet without breaking stride, blinking away the snowflakes that pelt my lashes. It’s just flurries, nothing serious. Not like earlier. Not like what I feel barreling through my chest right now.
Truth is?
I don’t care about the weather. I don’t care that I’m late. I don’t care that my tux is wrinkled, or that I left my brother in the driveway bitching about potholes and near-death experiences.
I only care about her.
My Badger is clawing at my insides, ears twitching beneath my skin, sniffing. Searching. Desperate to get closer to the one person he wants more than honey or a sun-warmed burrow.
Marigold.
The moment I step into the warmth of Uncle Uzzi’s grand ballroom, everything stills.
No, correction.
I still.
The world moves around me in a blur of glittering gowns and enchanted mistletoe, but I can’t process any of it.
Not the music.
Not the murmuring voices.
Not the clinking of champagne flutes and cocoa mugs or the sparklers whirling about dangerously close to the paper mache ornaments.
Because I catch it.
Her scent.
Cinnamon. Honey. Buttercream. Sugar. Her.
And all the air whooshes out of my lungs like I’ve been hit by a gingerbread-scented freight train.
Which, honestly, is the only way to describe falling for Marigold.
It was all things sweet and spicy.
Unexpected.
Beautiful.
And totally impossible to stop.
My Badger goes still and focused, ears up.
The ballroom is exactly what I’d expect from a matchmaking Witch with a flair for dramatics—floating enchanted candles, a ceiling charmed to look like a starry winter night, garland that twinkles back at you if you stare too long, and a suspicious number of strategically placed mistletoe clusters.
And there.
Under the largest one, sparkling like it personally pays rent to the North Pole, stands her.
Marigold.
My holiday Honey.
She’s ravishing wrapped in burgundy velvet, pale skin glowing in the candlelight, dark curls hanging down her back, and those warm honey eyes sparkling with humor.
She’s laughing at something Emery said, looking unfairly beautiful in that dress that is hugging her curves like I want to.
She’s so thick and luscious, and fuck me, I’m not the only one looking. My Badger snarls at some unwitting asshole checking out my female.
Hell, she’s gorgeous. A fucking knockout. And that dress should be illegal.
It sure as hell is making me want to commit some crimes.
But fuck that. I don’t want to spend the night in jail.
I just want her.
My Badger heart does a full somersault.
Then, the beast starts clawing at my chest.
Mine. Fix it. Now.
I shove through the crowd—ignoring Fae fashionistas and a Vampiress or two—until I’m in front of her.
She turns.
Her eyes go wide.
I don’t even give her time to cuss me out.
I cup the back of her neck and pull her in, slamming my mouth to hers like it’s the only way I’ll survive.
Because maybe it is.
I’ve spent hours aching for her.
Impossibly long hours, wishing I could rewind time and do it all differently.
And now? With her standing here, beneath that charmed mistletoe Uncle Uzzi had to have enchanted himself—glowing with power and promise—I don’t hesitate.
Yeah, I kiss her.
Hard.
Right here in front of everyone.
Right where the air between us ignites like sugar meeting flame.
She’s stiff at first—resisting just enough for my Badger to panic and for my heart to seize in my chest.
But I’m nothing if not persistent. I stroke my thumb across her cheek, trying to tell her without words: I’m here. I’m sorry. I’m yours.
And then, she kisses me back.
Sweet mother of carbs, she kisses me back.
The noise of the party vanishes.
The scent of cinnamon and snow fades.
All I know is Marigold in my arms, tasting like the sweetest honey and revenge, her body soft and furious against mine.
My Badger is doing literal flips in my head, squealing like he just won the jackpot. I feel like I did.
When I lift my head, she’s flushed.
Her lips are kiss-swollen.
Her amber eyes sparkle with something that might be heat or maybe murder.
Her lips quirk.
Almost a smile but not quite.
She takes one step back.
Then smacks me so hard the enchanted mistletoe trembles and the magical snowfall above us flurries sideways.
Ow.
Still grinning like a dumbass, I open my mouth to speak—then I think better of it, and I kiss her again.
She responds at first, kissing me sweetly.
Then she bites my lip. Drawing blood.
I gasp, and I wipe it, licking the red drop and growling.
Naughty girl.
She growls, “Stop it, you jerk!”
“Never. I will never stop coming for you, Honey.”
“I swear to—"
She doesn’t get to finish because—SPLASH.
Ice-cold champagne rains down the back of my tux.
“What the actual hell—”
“I told you if you broke her heart, I’d break your face!” Emery screeches, holding an empty champagne flute like she’s channeling some wrathful holiday goddess.
I blink, dripping.
Behind her, my brother Bobby crutches his way over in the rental tux I made him put on.
He pauses, blinking at Emery like he’s just had a religious experience.
“Oh,” he says dreamily. “Hello.”
Emery whips her head toward him.
“What’s your problem?”
“I think it’s you, actually?” Bobby murmurs, his eyes wide.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I mutter.
Bobby’s still staring.
“Yep, it is definitely you, Darlin’.”
I would worry about that, but right now, I’ve got bigger problems.
Namely, the gorgeous, furious, honey-scented woman in front of me who I can’t let slip away.
Her arms are crossed. She’s glaring. The mistletoe’s still hanging over her like it’s waiting for me to screw up again.
So, I do what any self-respecting Badger Shifter would do when his fated mate looks like she’s about to bolt.
I scoop her up, toss her over my shoulder, and start walking.
“Eb!” she gasps, pounding on my back. “Put me down!”
“Nope,” I say calmly. “Not until I’ve said what I came here to say.”
“You’re the one who ran!”
“True. But I’m here now.”
She tries to twist free.
Slaps my shoulder.
Pulls my hair.
Pinches my ass.
“Ow!” I yelp—but I think maybe I like that?
Shit.
My cock starts to stir.
Okay, I definitely like that—makes mental note to revisit the hair pulling, spanking, and maybe a little biting later.
“Ebenezer Rogers! You put me down right now!”
So. Fucking. Adorable.
“I know I’m an idiot,” I tell her, loud enough for anyone eavesdropping under the fake snow to hear. “But I’m your idiot. I’m a dumbass Badger who’s absolutely crazy about you, Honey. And I’m not leaving without you.”
Uncle Uzzi appears amidst a group of party revelers looking on in amusement. Somehow the old Witch is not surprised in the slightest.
“Excuse me, my dear. Marigold, are you alright?”
“Uh, yeah? I mean, I think so. Maybe ask again in ten minutes,” she mutters.
“I see,” he says with a sage nod and a twinkle in his electric blue eyes. “Ebenezer,” he now directs his attention to me, “if the lady says no, understand I will use all my power to assist her escape.”
“Yes, Uncle Uzzi. I understand, and I appreciate your stepping up for her, even if it’s unnecessary. But she won’t say no,” I reply, tightening my hold as she wiggles.
“Oh, really? How do you know?” she growls.
I give her a gentle shake, keeping one hand on her sumptuous ass and another on her calves, so she doesn’t kick.
“Because you’re meant for me, Honey. Only me. And I sure as hell am the only man meant for you! All the way down to my cranky, tunnel-digging soul.”
Marigold growls something under her breath that sounds a lot like a plot to maim certain parts of my anatomy.
Nah, she’s not serious. She likes those parts, I tell myself.
I swear my Badger is all but purring with her so close to me.
“Marigold?” Uzzi asks again.
“I’ll be fine, Uncle Uzzi, thank you for checking on me,” she says.
And I feel it like a victory in my soul.
“That’s my girl.”