“Thank you. And to be honest, if I had taken one moment to really think about everything, I should have realized what was going on.”
“Ah, don’t be too hard on yourself, man. Jon has no scent, so you didn’t have the slightest clue what he could be to you.” Troy made a show of sniffing the air. “Though now he seems to have gotten a scent of his own. It’s a mixture of you and…truffles? With rum?”
Declan held up his nose as well. “Yeah. Truffles and rum.”
“I’m not sure I like you sniffing out my mate. And I”—Barion took a deep breath as well—“smell sun and cream and blackberries, thank you very much.”
Declan shrugged. “Scent is always different for mates.” He and Troy went to congratulate Jon while Amber, Emilia and the witches descended on him.
Amber hugged his waist, not able to reach any higher, while Emilia simply floated up a bit to give him a kiss on each cheek. Mavis and Maribel grabbed his arms and tugged him down to get their arms around his neck, a chance Amber apparently didn’t want to miss, because she dove into the hug again. After the initial round of congrats, it was an impromptu party with food Dre and the witches provided. Barion had to admit that it was nice, celebrating with their family and friends.
“Oh, I almost forgot… Dad and Quirion send their love. They’re looking forward to the official party.” Sammy took a huge spoonful of crème brûlée, moaning at the taste. Dre was eyeing his mate like he was some kind of delicious dessert.
“Where is Dad? I know Quirion won’t come out of his library under any circumstances, but I thought he would be here.”
“Dad had to go to that weird dimension where gravity is spotty. You remember that one?” Dre had one hand on Sammy’s shoulder, gently massaging his mate’s neck with his thumb.
“Yeah, you never know when you’re going to fly and when you’re dropping like a rock. It’s fun.” Barion had fond memories of that particular dimension. It probably wouldn’t be as nice without the incubus who had visited it with him back in. Damn, back in the seventeenth century. It was something he wouldn’t mention to Jon, who was currently talking animatedly to Mavis and Amber, though he could see himself and Jon visiting there soon. The possibilities were endless. “What’s going on there?”
Sammy huffed. “Friendly family strategy game gone awry.”
“Oh.” Barion could imagine the carnage. “How many players?”
“Twenty.” Dre winced.
“Damn. That’s a violation of the first rule.” Barion shuddered.
“What’s the first rule?” Jon had come over and snuggled under Barion’s arm.
“Every gathering with more than five demons present is considered an attempt at war and therefore forbidden unless there’s express permission from the king.” Barion tugged Jon closer to his side.
“Judging from your looks, permission wasn’t given?”
“No. Dad is furious.” Dre grinned. “By the way, Jon, I think something has changed about your scent.”
“Huh?” Jon looked up from where he was cuddled against Barion. “I don’t have a scent.”
“You have one now,” Barion smiled at his mate full of love. “Troy and Declan have mentioned it as well. They say you smell of me, truffles and rum. To me, you smell of sun and cream and blackberries.”
Dre sniffed the air, obviously thinking he was being discreet. “I’ll have to second the werewolves. It’s truffles and rum. I think I’m getting hungry.”
Sammy held up a spoonful of his dessert to his mate. “Oh, mo grah thu, you take such good care of me.”
“Only the best for my beloved mate.”
Instead of feeling the green monster clawing at his insides, Barion could now watch his brother and brother-in-law with the happiness for them that they deserved.
“Could we go back to why I suddenly seem to have a scent?” Jon had lifted his arm and was sniffing his pit. It was so cute that Barion could have eaten him on the spot.
Barion threw his brother a questioning glance. “Any ideas?”
“Nope. My knowledge about zombies begins and ends with The Walking Dead. I’m sure it’s not a reliable source, though we can always ask Quirion.”
They both shuddered. “Or we could just accept it as the miracle and blessing it is and not bother the cranky hoarder of books in his cave.” Barion winked.
“Since when does Quirion live in a cave?” Sammy seemed confused.
“He doesn’t, mo grah thu, but you have to admit that his library kind of is his cave.”
