You have no idea what this means to him,she telepathed to Race.Dad’s usually so reserved. He has never opened up to anyone, until now.
He was probably testing me to see if I was truly immortal—and I couldn’t very well stab myself in the heart to prove it, could I?
Ash pressed her lips together, suppressing a laugh, then she said aloud, “Dad used to lecture on Classical Civilizations at the college.”
“Yes, I did.” Her father blinked, as though surprised he hadn’t mentioned that, and both Ash and her mother laughed.
“Come, let’s have tea. I’ll make a fresh pot,” Mum said, heading for the kitchen.
They settled back at the table, the warmth of home seeping into the moment, a rare calm after all the chaos.
As Mum switched on the kettle, she looked over her shoulder, smiling. “Ash, darling, why don’t you show your father the dagger—the way you revealed it to me?”
Oh, Lord.
But she did.
After her father’s initial shock—and a string of questions about metallurgy and runic inscriptions—the rest of the afternoon slipped away far too quickly.
“We should leave,” Race said at last. “Night approaches.”
They made their way to the front door, their outerwear on again. Race shouldered Ash’s backpack when her father asked, “Is Pyr’xian really your surname?”
“It belonged to my ancestor. A deity of old,” he said without missing a beat.
Her parents both blinked, stunned.
“As in a god, a pantheon god?” her mother breathed. “You’re a deity?”
A faint smile teased Race’s mouth. “I carry his bloodline, aye.”
Guess they finally believe I’m not a cultist about to make off with their only daughter for a ritual sacrifice.
Stop,she groaned.
Though I do plan a ritual…my cock as the dagger.
Ash choked, then coughed, her face blazing.
“Are you all right?” he asked quietly, but his eyes gleamed with mirth. “Water?”
Mum hurried off to fetch some, and with Dad watching, Ash could only nod, then accept the glass put in her hand and drink.
I am going to kill you for that.
Love your hands on me, heart-fire. Scratch, bite, whatever. Can’t wait.
Christ, this man.
Remembering where they were headed, she said, “Race and I are leaving for the mountains for a few weeks—taking some time off since we’re newly mated. I want to finish my climate project. I might be unreachable, but leave a message, and I’ll call when we’re back in Romania.”
Dad opened the front door. Winter twilight deepened, turning the garden silver and cold. A few of the neighborhood biddies were outside, wrapped in scarves as if enjoying the chill.
Ash snorted. More likely cataloguing their every move.
“Keep warm, sweetheart. Those mountains can be bitterly cold,” Dad murmured. “It’s been a long time since Mum and I visited, but I remember.”
After one last round of hugs, Race’s arm came around her shoulders, solid and warm against the freezing evening, and they headed for the stream behind Co-op.
