Mor has her hands full.
The whole town does.
“Last I recall,” I say in an overly casual voice, “the library has multiple bedrooms. At least two of which are unoccupied.”
Broderick’s face clears of disappointment. “You are a genius. Automatic A.”
I laugh. “You’re not grading me.”
The witch leans in and presses a gentle kiss to my jaw before whispering in my ear, “You should still come by office hours. For extra attention.”
“Are you about to tell me your bedroom is calledthe office?” I murmur back.
Broderick straightens with a chuckle, and I swear he’s the handsomest being I have ever encountered.
“You know me so well, Ophelia Vatra.”
I grin at his use of my surname. The one I gave myself, plucked from a memory of my mother. Was the name hers? Maybe not, but I like to think it was.
“I wonder though, would you still want to teach me a lesson if, one day, I called you Professor Vatra?”
In my time spent with other mythics in Folk Haven, I’ve learned it’s common among many mythics for a male partner to take a female partner’s surname when they officially mate. My comment was meant to tease, but as the words leave my mouth, I hear the weight they carry.
The future I’m hinting at.
Broderick cradles my cheeks in his hands, his hold gentle, as if I’m as fragile and precious as one of my glass creations. “Please,” he says, “call me Broderick Vatra. Anytime. Anywhere. For as long as you want me.”
And I’m sure that my happiness is pure fire spilling from my skin.
The End
