And we are as safe as can be...
Chapter Three
It’s later, and Kingsley and I are lying in my bed with the oscillating fan on high. Best to muffle our voices.
We watched the latestAvataron Disney+ and came to the mutual conclusion that someone really ought to make a movie about the Moons and friends. We’re pretty sure it would make excellent television.
Kingsley lies on his back, hands folded over his stomach, chest rising and falling like a resting bear. His long hair spills across my pillow, his beard brushing my shoulder whenever he shifts. He smells like hops and soap and something warm and wild beneath it all.
I run a finger through the dense fur on his chest. “You’re shedding.”
“I do not shed,” he says. “I molt.”
I snort. “You’re a walking carpet.”
He grunts, unoffended. “You like the carpet.”
“I tolerate the carpet,” I say, then lean in and press my cheek against it. “For warmth.”
The fan rattles softly. Somewhere down the hall, the house settles. Everyone is asleep. Safe.
Kingsley turns his head to look at me. His eyes are dark, thoughtful. Not wolf-like, the amber having dimmed. Just man.
“You ever think about the future?” he asks.
I pause. That’s not a casual question coming from him. “Sometimes.”
He nods, beard scratching the pillow. “I mean… us.”
I tilt my head. “What about us, you big oaf?”
He huffs a quiet laugh. “People keep asking. Not me. Other people.”
“People always ask,” I say. “They’re nosy.”
“Hmm.” He hesitates. “They ask what it would look like. If we… you know.”
I raise an eyebrow. “If we what?”
“Got married.”
There it is. I don’t pull away. I don’t tense. That tells me everything. I study him for a moment, then smile. “You’d hate it.”
He frowns. “Why?”
“You live in a mansion,” I say. “I live in a house full of witches, fairies, empaths, and an angel-in-training who cooks like a Michelin chef.”
“They all already have rooms here,” he says immediately. “I’d give them each a bathroom, too. Hell, they could all have their own living room.”
“I know they could,” I say gently. “That’s not the point.”
He shifts onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow, all broad shoulders, fur, and earnestness. “So whatisthe point?”
I trace a lazy circle in his chest hair. “We have a good thing going, Big Guy. The way we live separate but together. The way we all interact. I can’t have us moving into your world and disappearing inside it. Marriage can’t turn us into something we’re not.”
He smiles faintly. “When you say ‘us,’ you mean…”
“My family,” I say. “We’re simple folk. Don’t laugh. You know what I mean. Other than being our own little superhero team, we’re simple. We live in a small suburban house with an unattached garage. Hell, your garage alone is bigger than my whole place.”
