CHAPTER 2 #2
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat, and follow her into the spacious but humble kitchen; its efficiency is my favorite thing about it.
Sealed wooden counters line the walls, ready to bear whatever we need: parcels from the store, cutting boards brimming with our garden production, or the occasional suturing kit and bloody rags.
The large range built to feed an army hums in the center like a heart.
Grabbing mitts, I hoist the roast from the oven while Grace lays the table.
Riot mutters curses as he snatches as many glasses as he can carry between his thick fingertips.
I park the roast on top of the range, and the smell hits me.
Home.
“I’m sorry about Tuck,” Grace says, her graceful hands carving the meat onto our plates.
Riot drops his enormous ass at the long table that seats twelve, although we typically squeeze fifteen.
“Thank you, my darling,” I tell her, landing a kiss in her hair and carrying our plates toward a salivating Riot.
“I’m starved,” he growls.
Grace laughs. “We know.” She leans out of the kitchen doorframe. “Boys! Come and get it!”
Riot stabs at the roast, shoveling a dripping piece into his mouth before Grace and I can sit down. Boots thunder overhead and then down the stairwell, rattling the candlelit chandelier above us.
“I deployed half of us to the Night Kingdom today. Eastern outfit is sending the most. They leave tonight,” I tell Riot.
He stops mid-chew. “You think they’ll make it in time?” he asks through his food.
I nod, but I have no fucking idea if I’m right.
“They won’t know what hit ’em when our boys get there,” he growls.
Grace stares at her food beside me, and I run a hand along her thigh. There’s a certain pressure on the rest of us when we thin the Hunters like I’ve done today. Holding the line here gets riskier when our numbers dwindle.
“Damn right,” I say, shoving meat in my mouth as the kitchen fills with Hunters.
Sam plops down next to his sister, and Grace sets a roll on his plate, his fork already stabbing into the platter of roast.
Rhett, Sam’s stationmate and best friend, reaches over my shoulder to grab his own roll. “You didn’t wait for us, Captain?”
“Sit your ass down and eat your food, Rhett,” Riot scolds.
Rhett flops next to Riot, stuffing the roll into his grin, stubble stretching across his chiseled features, and blue eyes sparking.
“How does it feel to be three decades today?” Grace asks me, running a hand over my shoulder.
“A lot like two decades, but with more muscle,” I laugh, and my wife grips me harder.
Grace hums. “I remember your two decades. You were piss drunk and wouldn’t shut up about me.”
My chin jerks to her. “How do you know that?”
She grins, shooting a look at Riot. “A birdie told me.”
I drill my narrowing gaze across the table, and Riot’s hands raise innocently. “I did you a favor. Look at you now.”
“Bastard,” I say as Grace trails her fingertips down my spine.
“I’m glad he did. Someone had to make the first move,” Grace says.
I snort. “It’s not like I could. I didn’t need the wrath of your father aimed in my direction.”
“Or her brother,” Sam snarks next to his sister, eyes narrowed on Grace’s hand over my shoulder.
“Give it up, Sam. It’s been ten years,” Grace drawls, her attention still aimed at me, and I lose myself in those green eyes that hold me in place no matter what else exists around us.
“I would have made a move eventually,” I say, tracing her jaw, ready to show my wife all the ways I’ve loved the last decade with her. “There’s no life for me without you. Whether it’s five days or decades, we’ll live them together the best we know how.”
“And how’s that?” she whispers.
“As Hunters. Swords at our backs, hearts at our fronts.”
Her top lip curls. “Aye, Kade. What a privilege, isn’t it?”
Riot shakes his head at us. Talking around his full mouth again, he says, “You two are cheesy as fuck. And we’re trying to eat.”
I point at him. “It’s my birthday.”
“And you’ll be spending it alone with your wife if we have to listen to any more of this,” Riot says, washing his food down with ale.
Rhett smirks at Riot, whispering, “Mommy and Daddy are fighting.”
Riot fists Rhett’s shirt and tosses Rhett off the bench before Grace’s laugh hits my ears.
My heart is full, and I relax, gazing at the table filled with my Hunters from the Central outfit as Rhett clambers back into his seat. Then Grace douses us in an ice bath.
“It’s a huge risk, splitting the legion,” she says, bringing back our topic before the distraction of ravenous men interrupted us.
I turn to face her. “What would you have me do, Grace?”
“I don’t know. But things are bad enough here as it is.
I just—” She pauses, gaze locking onto mine.
“I need you safe. I need you all safe,” she confesses, eyes pleading.
Her face softens, and she gives me a gentle smile that says she understands my position but doesn’t want to live through it.
Love and logic rarely collide in perfect harmony, like a woman who desires peace married to a warrior.
And my graceful, loving wife not only was born to the only remaining Master of the Hunters but also is the Heir of the Hunters, descendant from the most brutal and powerful line of magic that has ever run through our kinsmen.
But here we are, living the cards we were dealt. And I thank my lucky stars her birthright at least softened the blow of her falling in love with one of us.
I run a thumb along her jaw. “The Hunters are the strongest we’ve ever been. Our odds are fantastic,” I assure her.
“And you have me, so—we’ll win any fight we get into,” Riot says, tone dripping with confidence around the teeth he’s flashing us.
Grace lobs an eye roll in reply. “I want change in Goreon. I’m tired of walking past human pain on every fucking corner of Southend.”
“Once we stabilize the Night Kingdom territories, then we make a plan to take back Goreon,” I say, repeating the mantra that hasn’t changed in the last year.
Hunter goals are slow-moving when we’re up against a millennium of vampiric rule, solidified by a blood-obsessed king who foments fear and doubt from his perch in his iron-and-stone fortress.
“I’m sorry we don’t have more warriors for you, Captain,” she says, lowering her gaze away from mine.
And there it is: her guilt.
There’s never been an Heir who didn’t accept their Hunter magic.
I cup her face in my hand. “Look at me.” Grace’s eyes flick to mine. “I respect your choice, my love. I want what you want. And I plan to give you peace in Goreon, just like I promised I would.”
She nods at me, eyes brightening at my comforting words. “Good—you’d better. Now eat your food. You’re going to need energy for later tonight.” Grace winks and shoves a roll in my face, and I chomp at it, wondering how I ever got so damn lucky in this life.