She grins, shooting a look at Riot. “A birdie told me.”
I drill my narrowing gaze across the table, and Riot’s hands raise innocently. “I did you a favor. Look at you now.”
“Bastard,” I say as Grace trails her fingertips down my spine.
“I’m glad he did. Someone had to make the first move,” Grace says.
I snort. “It’s not like I could. I didn’t need the wrath of your father aimed in my direction.”
“Orher brother,” Sam snarks next to his sister, eyes narrowed on Grace’s hand over my shoulder.
“Give it up, Sam. It’s been ten years,” Grace drawls, her attention still aimed at me, and I lose myself in those green eyes that hold me in place no matter what else exists around us.
“I would have made a move eventually,” I say, tracing her jaw, ready to show my wife all the ways I’ve loved the last decade with her. “There’s no life for me without you. Whether it’s five days or decades, we’ll live them together the best we know how.”
“And how’s that?” she whispers.
“As Hunters. Swords at our backs, hearts at our fronts.”
Her top lip curls. “Aye, Kade. What a privilege, isn’t it?”
Riot shakes his head at us. Talking around his full mouth again, he says, “You two are cheesy as fuck. And we’re trying toeat.”
I point at him. “It’smybirthday.”
“And you’ll be spending it alone with your wife if we have to listen to any more of this,” Riot says, washing his food down with ale.
Rhett smirks at Riot, whispering, “Mommy and Daddy are fighting.”
Riot fists Rhett’s shirt and tosses Rhett off the bench before Grace’s laugh hits my ears.
My heart is full, and I relax, gazing at the table filled with my Hunters from the Central outfit as Rhett clambers back into his seat. Then Grace douses us in an ice bath.
“It’s a huge risk, splitting the legion,” she says, bringing back our topic before the distraction of ravenous men interrupted us.
I turn to face her. “What would you have me do, Grace?”
“I don’t know. But things are bad enough here as it is. I just—” She pauses, gaze locking onto mine. “I need you safe. I need you all safe,” she confesses, eyes pleading. Her face softens, and she gives me a gentle smile that says she understands my position but doesn’t want to live through it. Love and logic rarely collide in perfect harmony, like a woman who desires peace married to a warrior. And my graceful, loving wife not only was born to the only remaining Master of the Hunters but also is the Heir of the Hunters, descendant from the most brutal and powerful line of magic that has ever run through our kinsmen.
But here we are, living the cards we were dealt. And I thank my lucky stars her birthright at least softened the blow of her falling in love with one of us.
I run a thumb along her jaw. “The Hunters are the strongest we’ve ever been. Our odds are fantastic,” I assure her.
“And you have me, so—we’ll win any fight we get into,” Riot says, tone dripping with confidence around the teeth he’s flashing us.
Grace lobs an eye roll in reply. “I want change in Goreon. I’m tired of walking past human pain on every fucking corner of Southend.”
“Once we stabilize the Night Kingdom territories, then we make a plan to take back Goreon,” I say, repeating the mantra that hasn’t changed in the last year.
Hunter goals are slow-moving when we’re up against a millennium of vampiric rule, solidified by a blood-obsessed king who foments fear and doubt from his perch in his iron-and-stone fortress.
“I’m sorry we don’t have more warriors for you, Captain,” she says, lowering her gaze away from mine.
And there it is: her guilt.
There’s never been an Heir who didn’t accept their Hunter magic.
I cup her face in my hand. “Look at me.” Grace’s eyes flick to mine. “I respect your choice, my love. I want what you want. And I plan to give you peace in Goreon, just like I promised I would.”
