next time you see her, but if you make a thing of it, that she’ll never forget.”
“I would just as soon not get thrashed with a dozen roses again, so I’ll take your advice.”
With that, Corbin eased into the crush, moving in the opposite direction. He met up with Boaz at a line of pickup trucks idling at the curb in front of Woolly. Driven by pack members, the truck beds overflowed with grills, charcoal, and meat. Lots of meat. Lots and lots of meat.
Done with my moment in the sun—er, moon?—I reached behind me for Linus and drew him up beside me.
“The urge to stand at the edge of the porch and lift LJ over my head while we proclaim him our son and heir is almost overwhelming.” I kept him tucked against my chest, just in case. “I thought I was deprogramming Keet, but I think he was programming me instead.”
“I have noticed you humming ‘Hakuna Matata’ lately.”
“He loves to sing along,” I grumbled a weak protest then perked. “Where did the cake smell come from?”
“I wondered when you would work your way back around to that.” He lifted a hand, and Marit patted the arm of the muscular gwyllgi beside her. Jack, her boyfriend, turned his back to me while everyone shuffled aside. “What do you think?”
When Jack turned around, he held a board with a four-tiered cake decorated with a speckled cream cheese frosting that smelled like cinnamon and sugar. Churros stood like candles along the edges of each tier, dozens of them, and the whole thing was topped with two churros piped to make a giant heart.
Esteban followed the cake on its march to me, and I hugged him tight, breathing in his confectionary scent.
“You’ve outdone yourself.” I stole a churro and shoved it in my mouth, fully intending to still blame it on pregnancy in some fashion. “Oh, my goddess.” I swayed on my feet. “This is amazing.”
“You ruin the presentation with your snacking.” He tsked at me. “There are alternating chocolate ganache and caramel cream layers between each cake. You must eat a full slice for the full effect.”
“I am more than willing to suffer for the sake of your art,” I said solemnly as Linus took LJ from me.
“It will be a good hour before the steaks are done,” Lethe chimed in. “Let the woman have her treat.”
“Thank you.” I swept out my arms. “Cake for all!”
Proving these were my people, no one said another word about eating dessert first. As a matter of fact, I saw an eager gwyllgi dive into the coolers and produce vanilla and cinnamon ice cream while a few more scattered to locate the plates and utensils.
Napkins could wait.
We had priorities.
Leaning in, LJ sleeping against his chest, Linus nuzzled the column of my throat. “Happy?”
Gazing out over the lawn, at the faces of everyone we loved, I didn’t have to stop and think about it.
“Yeah.” I shivered as his cool lips skated over the shell of my ear. “I am.”
“Me too,” he murmured against my skin. “You’re my everything.”
Pressing my mouth to his, I tasted the sweetness of his smile when I said, “And you’re my always.”
New Series Alert!
Perfumed with bleach, dressed in dark leggings and a long-sleeve shirt to hide my healing wounds, I climbed into a bed fit for a fairy princess and kissed Ash on her puckered forehead. Kids are smart. They pick up on cues far better than we give them credit for, but I knew one sure-fire way to distract her from the bruises and cuts I earned every day on the job.
The job I had on paper anyway. What I did off the books wasn’t a topic for young ears.
Reclining against her pillows, hissing when the scabbing furrows a wendigo raked down my side pulled, I played with her silver-blonde hair. The silky texture reassured me ten times over that the bright pain was worth the risk of cracking open a client’s safe at the start of my shift in order to memorize the ten bold digits scrawled on a wrinkled corner of stained paper. Ten little numbers that might change all our lives. Forever. “Do you want to hear the story?”
A slight hesitation telegraphed her indecision. To act too cool, or not to act too cool. What a question.
Lately, she had been putting aside childish things. Those included bedtime stories. No, The Story. I could read to her all I wanted, but she was approaching the age where fairy tales