Shoving open our weather-beaten door that’s always stuck in the jamb, I enter and toss the front door closed, heat brushing my skin. I amble down the foyer of our welcoming home, glad to be here and ready to see my people. They always take the edge off.
I pause under the archway to the living room.
Only one of two things will kill me in this life: a den of vampires that’s caught me unprepared for some unfathomable reason, or the sacrifice I’d make for the woman glaring at me beside our crackling fireplace.
Grace.
My wife, my love—my Gracie.
“I’m sorry I’m late.”
“You promised,” she growls at me, but I know what’s coming next. The little tug at the corner of her mouth, the twitch she can never hide when she’s not truly upset with me.
“What time is it?” I ask, eyes skirting to the kitchen. The dining table is still empty, and my entire body relaxes.
“Thirty minutespastwhen you were supposed to be here,” she scolds. And there it is: the hint of the smirk that brings me to my knees every damn time.
Gods, I love her.
“Good thing dinner’s not ready yet, then,” I challenge.
Seated on the faded velvet sofa, she leans back on a hand and quirks a perfect eyebrow at me. “Good thing I started it late on purpose.”
“How did you know?” I ask, my lips already starving for hers.
The playful twist of her mouth disintegrates my restraint. I drop my weapon satchel and rush her on creaking floorboards, capturing her mouth with mine.
“How did youknow, Gracie?” I breathe into her lips, her smile spreading against me.
“Your limp was gone this morning. I knew you’d stay and train until something else hurt.”
I grunt in agreement as her hands skirt along my biceps, her touch melting my pain and lighting a fire in my chest.
“I missed you today,” I confess, balancing her beautiful face in my palms. “It was a rough one.”
“Tell me.” Her voice is feminine and fiery, this blend that feeds me and captivates me, and I can’t help but trace my thumb along her jawline.
“We lost another trainee, and I don’t think Mother Diane is coming back.”
“Well, shit,” a deep voice says from behind us.
We whip our heads to the top of the curved staircase as Riot straightens his shirt and shoves back his disheveled hair.
“Nice nap for you?” I jab at my closest friend and Central station leader for the Hunters.
His heavy bootfalls thud down the steps. “Don’t start with me—you know it was my day off. And now I need a fucking drink.” Riot disappears into the kitchen, calling back, “Where’s dinner?”
Grace’s green eyes spark like glinting emeralds. “We waited for Kade.”
Riot leans against the doorframe, tipping the bourbon bottle into his mouth. “Which trainee?”
“Tuck,” I answer, my hands sliding over Grace’s shoulders.
“Damnit,” Riot grumbles and lumbers to the sofa, plopping down next to Grace, the force of his weight bouncing her in my grip. “I just worked with him on his crossbow technique last week.”
“It’s my fault,” I admit.
Grace’s eyes snap to mine. “It’s not.”
