I grab Miss Geraldine’s clothing and hand it to her. She delicately plucks her things from my hand and hops to the back room. While she changes, I take a garbage bag and shove Fran’s gaudy clothing and cheap accessories—Poe has certainly taught me the value of things—into it before tossing the bag into the dumpster behind the shop. By the time I return, Miss Geraldine is joining us in her human form, running her fingers through her thick salt-and-pepper hair.
“That crow was a cheap piece of work,” she coos, dusting herself off. “Bullshit and bad vibes.”
Poe and I fall over each other laughing and we bring Miss Geraldine in for a group hug and a free coffee. She offers to help us clean up the mess Fran left behind, but we shoo her away with a smile and another round of hugs. Poe and I need a little alone time.
She takes the hint and leaves, blowing us a kiss as she does.
Fran’s temper tantrum was more dramatic than actually destructive, thankfully. The glass shelf she broke has to be ordered special, so I go out to the local building supply shop for a sturdy piece of wood. There’s a teak piece that fits perfectly, and once everything’s in place, Poe lets out a little chortle as he puts his head on my shoulder.
“It’s nice, the glass and wood together.”
“Kind of like us, right?” I ask, kissing his temple.
He gazes into my eyes, thoughtful. “Did you mean it? Do you… do you really love me?”
“I meant every word,” I say, cupping his face, bringing him in for a soft kiss. “You are the love of my life, Poe. And you will be the love of my life for the rest of our lives. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. My ideas about what a fated mating could be were completely wrong. I don’t feel trapped, I feel loved. I feel settled. Happy.”
“You are, you know,” Poe says, a gentle blush tinting his cheeks. “Loved, that is.”
I pepper his pretty face with even more kisses. “Iknow,” I say, thumping my chest. “I can feel it right here. That’s romantic, don’t you think?”
“It’s damn romantic, if you ask me. Which is a good thing because I kind of like loving you.” He emphasizes this with another searing kiss.
Rolling my hips, I whisper against his lips, “I kind of like loving you, too. What do you say we finish cleaning up in here and I show you exactly how much I love you?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
8
POE
We pull up to the Wolfsbane family home—compound, really—overlooking Oak Harbor, and I turn to Thorin. “Are you sure that we shouldn’t have called first?” I ask as I open the door.
He gets out on his side and gives me his most wolfish grin over the roof of our rental car. “For the hundredth time, yes, I'm sure, my love. If you think my reaction to being treated like shit by my ex was bad, you should’ve seen theirs. My mother, the kindest soul on the planet, wanted to rip her throat out. They need to meet you and to know that this is different.”
“Thorin?”
My eyes widen as Celia Wolfsbane, Thorin’s stunning, silver-haired mother, sprints down the front porch steps to us. “What are you doing here?” she asks, delighted as tears stream down her face. “I thought you wouldn’t be here until the holidays.”
Thorin’s smile is soft and so full of love as hegathers her up in a big hug. “I couldn’t wait until then. There’s someone I need you to meet.”
His mother turns her glowing eyes to me. She’s a wolf-shifter, there’s no doubt of it, and her hair shines iridescent in the afternoon sun.
“You have the most stunning hair I’ve ever seen,” I gasp, unable to stop staring. “Is this what Thorin’s hair will look like as he gets older?”
“Uh, yes,” she says, probably weirded out that I’m looking at her like she’s a goddess. Because hello, she is. “And who are you?”
I grimace at the growl in her tone and look to Thorin for help. He laughs and lets go of his mother, pulling me into his arms. “Mom, this Poe Ravenswood.”
“Son,” she says, concern lowering her voice, “another avian? So soon? I thought…”
Her words drift off, and I ruffle my fingers through my hair, awkward.
“Yes,” Thorin answers proudly. “Poe is a raven shifter. More importantly, though, he’s my… mate.”
A line appears between his mother’s brows, and she shakes her head. Shit. Will she not accept us?
“Wait, what?” she asks, still confused.
