He moved toward her, ferocious and wild, completely solid. “Keep the smile. You owe me for each and every dig I take from my family today over the pink shirt.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she murmured.
He reached her in two strides, both hands grasping her waist and lifting her onto the table. “We trying for a baby again tonight?”
“What? Twice this morning wasn’t enough for you?” She pressed her thighs in on his, her hands flattening across his muscled chest.
“No.” He tangled a strong hand in her hair. “It would’ve been three times, but I had to check on Hope.”
Sarah nodded. The second the vampires had begun to heal, she’d followed him as Max had shown up outside Janie and Zane’s temporary room and declared himself bodyguard to the baby. The demon had taken one look at Max’s serious face and had nodded. That Zane was a smart guy. “Little Hope is still smiling the most at you?”
“Of course.” Max’s chest puffed out, and amusement filled his rapidly pinkening eyes. “Ticks Zane off every time.”
“You’re terrible.” Sarah laughed.
“That’s not what you said this morning.” Max leaned in and nuzzled her neck, shooting sparks directly south to her sex.
She pushed. “We have to get moving. The party starts in just a few minutes.”
“I bet I could change your mind.”
“Yes.” She levered herself back to cup his whiskered chin. “Always.” Then she glanced at the pretty flowers. “Although you don’t have to keep bringing me flowers, candy, and presents. I mean, I love it, but you can relax.”
He shook his head. “I made you a promise, years ago, that I’d court you.”
Love for him welled through her. “We’ve been mated for decades.”
“I know. After I mated you, I promised I’d still court you. Then the virus hit, the war went crazy, and we had to go into survival mode. Things are good now. So, Sarah?”
She smiled, her gaze on her one true love. “Yes?”
“Be prepared to be courted. A lot.”
Connlan Kayrs leaned over the crib to tickle his son’s belly. Bright green eyes sparkled up from the babe’s seven-month-old face, full of fun and a little craziness. Yeah. Definitely Moira’s child.
His brother kicked pudgy feet next to him, his gaze more thoughtful and serious. His eyes glowed a burnished silver.
Twins.
Conn winked at the little guys. His wild witch of a mate had given him twin boys. One had already set the nursery on fire. The new nursery in the subdivision was fireproof, as was most of the house.
Moira’s boots echoed on the tile outside, her lilac scent preceding her arrival. “You mixed up the food in the refrigerator again.”
He grinned and turned. Yeah, he’d placed the limes in the cold-cut drawer just to mess with her. “You really need to let go of the fridge organization problem.”
She lifted a creamy shoulder. “Food should be organized. You know that.”
Crazy and compulsive. No wonder he loved the petite little witch. Red curls cascaded down her back, showcasing smooth skin. For the party, she’d donned a crimson blouse with black skirt and matching boots. “You look lovely, Dailtín.”
She blushed. “I’m the mother of two boys. Perhaps it’s time to stop calling mebrat.”
Not when it brought such a glimmer of pleasure to her stunning eyes. “At this point, it’s tradition.” One he liked and she’d definitely earned.
Moira frowned and strode to touch his still aching jaw. “Who hit you?”
“Jase.” Pleased humor tipped his lips. “We trained earlier.” Like the old days before they’d all taken ill. “It was great. I threw him across the gym and dented the new wall. Dage was pissed.”
Moira smiled and slipped her hands down his chest. “Aye. I do so appreciate your stamina returning.”
