Epilogue
Christmas Day dawned bright and beautiful. The golden rays streamed through the cabin’s skylight, caressing Payton’s blonde hair and giving her an angelic air.
Dailey grinned.
He knew it to be false. Last night, she’d been a wild, wanton goddess—no enchanted boots needed.
“Stop staring at me. It’s creepy,” she said in a husky voice.
“It’s my favorite pastime. Ready to get up and face the day?”
“No.”
Typical Payton.
“Has anyone ever told you how ornery you are in the mornings?” he teased.
She peeked one bleary eye open, and he felt the heat from her glare.
In response, he held up a perfectly flavored, steaming cup of coffee.
“You thoughtful sonofabitch,” she muttered as she sat up and shoved her hair back. “Gimme.”
“Scooch over, bed hog.”
After she made room for him, Dailey handed her the mug.
“Do you know what today is?”
With a scrunch of her nose and a squint of one eye, she shook her head.
He laughed. “Liar.”
“Why are you still here? Isn’t it bad luck to see the bride on her wedding day?”
“That’s for the groom, and I’m under strict orders from Tripp to get Elara to the venue on time.” He kissed her temple. “He’s worried she’ll bolt. Apparently, there’s a rumor going around about the Hawthorne sisters being runaway brides.”
“Okay, that was one time. Poor El can’t be tainted by association.” She sipped her drink. “Damn, Lee. I think this is the best cup yet.”
“You say that every morning,” he replied dryly.
“And I mean it!”
“You have one hour, then I’m coming back. If you’re not ready, there will be hell to pay.”
“What can be worse than global extinction from super volcanoes and asteroids?” she asked with an eye roll.
“Brelenia’s wrath.”
“Fair point.” She handed off her mug, kissed him, then tumbled from the bed.
“You’re so graceful,” he quipped, leaning sideways to admire her bare ass.
“Shut it, Officer Knob. Or no more of this”—she slapped her butt cheek—“later.”
Laughter bubbled up in his chest, and he set the coffee aside.
He lunged for her as she made a run for the bathroom and locked herself inside.
“Game on, Hawthorne! Game on!”
Her muffled giggle made him grin, and he paused to let his happiness settle.
The last year hadn’t been easy.
After a few therapy sessions, he and Payton had forged new bonds.
He’d rented out their old condo and purchased the building housing Elara’s old apartment.
They planned to renovate all four floors and expand into the empty lot behind the original structure.
Permits had been harder to obtain due to the stricter rules imposed by Witchmere’s new mayor, Archer Roche.
Apparently, he liked the architecture as it was.
Thankfully, he had a soft spot for Katie Sanderson, and Payton hadn’t been above using it.
Construction was moving right along, and 98% of their tenants had placed down payments on their future condos. Of course, it helped that Dailey was a warlock and could keep maintenance dues at a bare minimum. It required little magic or effort to keep the place in tip-top condition.
The Triad’s curse was an ongoing challenge, though, and they were still dealing with the fallout. But honestly, he was thrilled Sloane had left Bradford the Bougie Biscuit, and he’d made no bones about telling her. But the Camden elders would get theirs soon. He’d see to it.
The bathroom door opened, and Payton paused in the opening.
The effect stole his breath.
She was a vision, and he thanked his lucky stars every fucking day. When they were old and gray, he’d still be grateful. Because she was his everything, his reason for existing.
“Lee.” Her voice was too serious, and his heart began to hammer painfully. “Before we go, can we talk?”
The tone and “talk” reference were never a great combination, and he did his damnedest not to wince. He’d promised to always listen and keep their lines of communication open, and by the Goddess, that’s exactly what he’d do. He only hoped he didn’t hate the outcome.
“Of course. What is it, Pay?”
“Will you sit down on the bed, please?”
Once he was settled, she opened the nightstand drawer and removed a small box.
His heart stalled.
He recognized it as the one he’d held during his proposal.
“Payton?”
Instead of answering, she eased up the hem of her bridesmaid gown and knelt before him. Holding out her hand, she cleared her throat. Her fingers shook as she flipped the lid of the box open.
Centered inside, beside the ring he’d given her, was its male counterpart. The band was platinum with an etched design, familiar yet not. His mind struggled to recall while simultaneously trying to wrap itself around her actions. The memory surfaced. It was a protection spell for the wearer.
“I love you, Dailey. And if you’re still willing to build a future together, I’m asking you to marry me. Will you?”
His throat was too thick to speak, so he joined her on the floor. Kneeling in front of her, he removed the box from her trembling grasp and withdrew her old ring. For the longest moment, he was caught by the single winking solitaire.
“Are you in love with this design?” he asked.
“What?” She was adorable in her confusion.
“It’s a solitaire, but it seems lonely. I was thinking it should be surrounded by stones that loved it,” he replied, capturing and holding her stare.
A blissful smile transformed her face, and he once again struggled to draw a breath. “Yes, I think it needs the love of another to shine the way it’s supposed to.”
He drew the magic from his core, then brushed his fingers over the setting, creating the new setting as he imagined it.
“May I?” he asked. When she nodded, he slid the ring home.
Her hum of appreciation was his reward. Just as it always was.
Then, she picked up the discarded box and removed his ring.
“You didn’t answer me,” she said pertly. “Dailey James Cobb, will you marry me?”
“I did answer. You weren’t listening.” Leaning forward, he took her hand in his and helped her slide his ring in place.
They spent only a moment admiring it before he swept her up and kissed her.
“I will marry you every day for the rest of our lives, Payton Hawthorne, if that’s what it takes to make you as happy as you make me. ”
“Every day seems excessive, but I’m not opposed to the occasional vow renewal.” A naughty smile curled her lush mouth. “I think we still have thirty minutes before we have to get Elara to the clearing.”
“Hm. What did you have in mind?”
“Something very wanton. You in?”
He conjured a pair of handcuffs. “Are we doing this the easy way or the hard way?”
Rand held out his hand, palm up. “Give them to me.”
“Rand, darling—”
“Brelenia, we are never going through that again. Give me the damned boots. I intend to see they’re destroyed.”
She crinkled her nose. “There’s just one small hitch with your plan, my love.”
He crossed his arms, pleased to see her lick her lips as her gaze lingered on his muscled chest.
“You were saying?” he asked
“I was?” she sounded delightfully confused.
But it was a partial act. He’d been married to the woman for centuries and knew all of her stall tactics.
“The boots, Brel. I want them out of commission.”
She huffed in frustration. “Fine. Top shelf on the left,” she said with a gesture toward her walk-in wardrobe. “But they won’t stay hidden, Rand. Those blasted things have a life of their own.”
“Then maybe our resident pain in the ass needs a taste of his own medicine.”
Brelenia’s eyes lit up. “Tripp had mentioned the same thing. Perhaps it’s time to bring Hermes and Storm Bringer together. What do you say?”
Rand halted halfway to the closet.
The idea had merit.
Knowing he’d probably live to regret it, he agreed.
Thank you for reading Wanton Witchmas. If you’d be so kind as to write an honest review, I’d be forever grateful.