Malphas smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “No, we’re certainly not that.”
The rain intensified outside, drumming against the roof in a soothing rhythm. In the garden, I knew the supernatural plants would be drinking in the moisture, growing stronger. Inside, in this space we’d created together, I felt the same—nourished, thriving, evolving.
“I’ve been thinking about names,” Malphas said suddenly.
“Names? For what?”
“For us. After the ceremony.” He looked slightly uncomfortable, as if venturing into unfamiliar territory. “Traditionally, humans often share a surname after marriage.”
I hadn’t even considered this aspect. “I’m not sure how that would work. Do you even have a last name? Is Malphas your first name or your title?”
“It’s both and neither,” he explained. “Demonic naming conventions are complex. But I’ve existed in the human world long enough to establish a legal identity. On paper, I’m Malphas King.”
I snorted. “King? Really?”
“It seemed appropriately regal at the time,” he defended. “I was establishing a mortal identity in the Victorian era. Standards were different.”
“So I could be Sam King,” I mused, trying out the sound of it. “Or you could be Malphas Fletcher.”
“Malphas Fletcher,” he repeated, considering. “It lacks a certain demonic gravitas.”
“Fletcher-King?” I suggested. “A hyphenate has a nice modern touch.”
“Sam and Malphas Fletcher-King,” he said thoughtfully. “It has potential.”
The casual discussion of our shared future, down to the mundane details of last names, filled me with a warmth that had nothing to do with Malphas’s supernatural heat. This was real. This was happening. I was building a life—an eternity?—with a being who defied all categories and expectations.
“Whatever we decide to call ourselves,” I said, reaching up to touch his face, “we’ll figure it out together. Like everything else.”
His expression softened, those unique eyes reflecting both his demonic nature and his evolved self. “Together,” he agreed. “I like that word.”
“Me too,” I murmured, stretching up to kiss him softly.
The kiss deepened naturally, six months of familiarity making us perfectly attuned to each other’s desires. Malphas shifted us on the sofa, laying me down and covering my body with his larger one.
“The show isn’t over,” I pointed out as his mouth trailed down my neck.
“The renovation is doomed to failure with those tile choices,” he murmured against my skin. “I’d rather focus on more enjoyable activities.”
“Can’t argue with that logic,” I gasped as his hand slipped under my shirt, warm fingers tracing patterns on my stomach.
Just as things were getting interesting, Malphas suddenly stiffened, lifting his head.
“What?” I asked, concerned by his sudden alertness. “What is it?”
He sighed, resting his forehead against mine briefly before pulling back. “I just remembered—tomorrow is recycling day.”
I stared at him for a beat, then burst out laughing. “Seriously? We’re in the middle of what was becoming very promising foreplay, and you’re thinking about recycling day?”
“The bins need to be at the curb before 7 AM,” he explained earnestly. “And we have that extra cardboard from the new patio furniture delivery.”
“Oh my god,” I groaned, still laughing. “This is why Eden thought you needed an exorcism.”
Malphas looked offended. “Proper waste management is important, Sam. Environmental responsibility is not a joke.”
“No, of course not,” I agreed, trying to control my laughter. “By all means, let’s pause our makeout session to discuss waste segregation.”
He narrowed his eyes at my obvious amusement. “You’re mocking me.”
