Chapter 2 #2
“Yeah, apparently so. You’d think he was the one who got into the catnip.
” I returned to the table, where Faron drew me onto his lap.
I straddled him, basking in the heat that radiated off his body.
Shifters were warm, so warm, and where Bran’s touch was cool and magical—like sparkling ice, Faron’s touch was fiery and steamy.
Faron slid one arm around my waist, and I leaned down and kissed his forehead, my breasts pressed against his chest.
“So,” he said, his voice a soft growl. “You’re sure Bran’s okay with this?”
I nodded. Bran and I’d had a long, in-depth talk before Faron moved in.
It hadn’t been without a few heated moments, but by the end, we had hammered out the details.
“He is. He convinced me that he’s telling the truth.
I wouldn’t be sitting on your lap unless it was all right with him.
” I leaned down to give him a kiss, and my lips played against his, setting off sparks.
He nibbled on my lower lip, running his other hand over my back.
“I can’t believe we’re back here,” I whispered. “I promised myself I’d stop thinking about you. Bran helped me do that, but now…now both of you are always on my mind,” I added. “Tell me, what would you do if they offered you the throne again?”
Faron paused, then said, “Honest answer?”
I nodded. “Yes. Be honest with me.” I wanted to hear his answer, because if he were offered the chance to take the throne again and seemed interested, I planned to cut off the relationship right there.
I had no desire to be an interim diversion while he figured out how to retake his position.
I had faith in him, but I wanted to be sure.
I wasn’t going to let myself be surprised like last time.
“That part of my life is gone. It’s done. For one thing, they will never take a wounded king back, and the fact that I’m sterile means that I’m wounded.”
“What if they changed their minds? What if they changed the rules?” I asked, running my fingers through his hair.
“I’d say no. I did my duty. I ruled over the Pack. I put in my time. They cast me aside, and I wouldn’t give them a second chance.” He froze. “And yes, I hear the irony in that.”
“I was wondering,” I said. “I’m still skittish, Faron. You acted like I were dead. Worse than dead. You treated me as though I wasn’t worth even speaking to.”
“I’ll never be able to say I’m sorry in a way that makes up for that. But…I won’t ever do that again. I’m not going to toy with your emotions. I refuse to do that to you again.” He shook his head, leaning back as he let out a long sigh.
I kissed him again, a gentle peck on the lips, then swung off his lap. “I trust you, for now. Time will tell.”
“I understand,” he said. “I’d feel the same.” He stood, stretching. “I start work tomorrow, by the way. Early shift. I have to be up and out there by five AM. I’ll make a lunch tonight, and I’ll buy breakfast on the way. With all the storms we’ve had lately, there’s a lot of cleanup to do.”
“Well, you’re a working man again. How does it feel?” I asked.
He carried our coffee mugs and the shortbread plate over to the counter. “Good, to be honest. I hate just sitting around. I’m heading to the store. I need to buy a lunchbox and thermos. You need anything while I’m out?”
I laughed. “Yeah. Apparently, we need more flour and sugar. And can you get me some more roses? Oh, also, cooking oil.”
Faron texted himself a note, slid on his jacket and headed out.
I followed him, standing on the porch. It was time for Fancypants to come inside.
I waved as Faron drove off, then whistled long and loud—the signal for Fancypants to come home.
Nothing. After a moment, I whistled again.
Still nothing. Maybe he was wandering in the woods between May’s house and my own.
I closed my eyes and sent him an emotigram—what we—Fancypants and I, called the non-verbal communication that existed because of our bond.
I waited, tensing up. Fancypants always answered right away. I paced the porch, not wanting to even go where my mind was going. Maybe he’d gone too far. Maybe he was on the way home. Maybe he’d slid into the Sescernaht—the dimension certain Cryptos could phase into—and couldn’t sense me there.
I glanced at my phone. Five minutes. Usually we were close enough that he always answered within that time.
Another five minutes and I was frantic. I tried to clear my mind in order to reach him through our bond.
I sifted through the anxiety, seeking that one calm space where I could stave off the fear.
Slowly, my heart rate settled. I took one more deep breath and let it out, forming a new emotigram in my mind.
As I readied myself to send it, a sudden flutter of wind hit me. I shivered.
“You called?” Fancypants asked.
I whirled.
He was hovering right above my head. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Before I knew what I was doing, I broke into tears. “I thought you were dead,” I said, crying with a ferocity that I hadn’t felt in a long, long time.