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.
