“You’re welcome. Now.” Luna sat at their feet and stared up at them expectantly. “My dinner is late. The romantic reunion was very touching, but I require sustenance. Feed me.”
Cassie laughed—she couldn’t help it—and grabbed a can of cat food from the pantry while Luna supervised with the air of a restaurant critic evaluating a Michelin-starred meal.
“You realize,” she said to Liam as she spooned food into Luna’s bowl, “that this is your life now. Talking cats. Sentient toasters. Gnomes that rearrange themselves.”
“I’ve lived through worse.”
“Have you, though?”
He caught her hand as she straightened, pulling her gently toward him. “Aye. I have.” His voice dropped, lower and rougher. “Twelve years of manipulation and magic used to control instead of connect. Feeling like I couldn’t trust my own feelings.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “This isn’t that. You’re not that. Whatever chaos comes with you, I’ll take it.”
The house sighed. Actuallysighed, the walls settling like they were finally relaxing after holdingtheir breath.
Jacques shifted to something slower. Deeper. The candles dimmed to a soft amber glow.
“I think,” Cassie said, her voice barely above a whisper, “the house is trying to set a mood.”
“Subtle.”
“Nothing about this place is subtle.”
He kissed her again, slower this time, and she felt the rightness of it settle into her bones. No panic. No fear. Just the steady certainty that she was exactly where she was supposed to be, with exactly who she was supposed to be with.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing harder than the kiss strictly warranted, Liam’s eyes were dark and intent in the candlelight.
“Cassie.”
“Yes?”
“Tell your toaster to stop playing mood music.”
“He won’t listen to me. He never listens to me.” She bit her lip, fighting a smile. “But we could… go somewhere the toaster isn’t.”
The smile she got in return was slow and warm and full of promise.
“Lead the way.”
She led him upstairs,past Luna who was pointedly ignoring them in favor of her dinner, past walls thatpulsed rose-gold with every step, past Jacques’s increasingly suggestive music selection. Her bedroom door swung open before she touched it—because of course it did—and the room beyond was bathed in soft lamplight that she definitely hadn’t left on.
“The house is helping,” she said.
“The house needs hobbies.”
“The house needsboundaries.”
But she was laughing as she said it, and so was he, and then they were kissing again and she stopped caring about boundaries or hobbies or anything except the solid warmth of him and the way his hands felt sliding into her hair.
They tumbled onto the bed together, all tangled limbs and breathless laughter. He paused above her, a question in his eyes, and she answered it by pulling him back down.
This time, there was no hesitation. No almost. No interrupted moments heavy with everything they weren’t saying.
Just them, finally choosing each other.
The details blurred after that—a kaleidoscope of sensation and warmth, whispered words and soft gasps, the discovery of each other without magic or binding or fear getting in the way. At some point, the lamp flickered. At some point, the walls definitely changed color. At some point, Cassie’s magic sparked bright gold along her skin, and she felt Liam smile against her mouth instead of pulling away.
“You’re glowing,” he murmured.
“I can’t help it.”
