Before today, I had never shed a single tear in my entire life. I suppose I’d never really had anything to cry over. Until six months ago, I’d been living the dream—rambling through my youth with friends, adventuring through the mortal realm in my teens, and spending my adult life with my best friend by my side.
And even after everything that happened with Ambrose, after I’d all but destroyed our friendship, I still hadn’t cried. Maybe my body simply didn’t know how to process emotions like that, instead focusing desperately on searching for a way to fix what couldn’t be fixed.
But artificial though the tears today might have been, they left behind an odd afterglow. It felt as if my body had finally been given permission to grieve, a weight lifting just enough for me to articulate what I’d been carrying for so long.
And my mate understood. She accepted my pain without flinching. She wasn’t rejecting me. She wasn’t jealous or angry, or any of the worst outcomes I’d played over and over in my head.
She was here. Her hand warm against my cheek, quietly telling me it was okay.
That we were okay.
I don’t think Fate could have matched me with anyone more perfect than Caitlyn. She was perfect in every conceivable way. Intelligent, ambitious, emotionally mature, supportive—
And turned on by the thought of a threesome,my brain added unhelpfully.
That spike of her desire I’d felt when I admitted how I’d fed with Ambrose at my side had set my body alight. It took real effort not to drag her down onto the couch and lose myself in her, to whisper all the ways a pair of incubi could pleasure her.
The only thing that stopped me from slipping my hands into her pants and teasing out every one of those blooming desires was the fact that I was supposed to be forgetting about Ambrose—not lingering on the memory of him just because my mate wasn’t repulsed by the idea of a threesome.
And so, as Caitlyn looked down at me with those big hazel eyes, her hair a tangled halo around her, I made a promise to try even harder to forget him.
I was going to need a bigger rubber band.
Maybe even a shock collar.
But I was determined to do it. For her. For us. For our future together.
Caitlyn’s lips were soft as she pressed them to the tip of my nose. “I think we need to stop putting pressure on ourselves to be perfect,” she said.
“But you already are perfect,” I replied, enjoying the way her cheeks flushed.
“I’mfarfrom perfect,” she said with a small laugh. “But what I mean is that we should stop worrying about whether the sex is perfect or feeling guilty if a memory of a past lover pops up—or if a possessed doll decides to spike our food with superglue.”
“Has Creep ever done that?” I asked, mildly horrified.
Caitlyn wrinkled her nose. “No... but now I’m regretting putting that idea out there. Anyway.” Her eyes met mine. “Let’s just take a break from the whole perfect life thing. I mean,” she hurried on as my brow furrowed, “not abreakbreak. I still very much want to be your mate. But let’s just... chill. Have some fun. Let things happen naturally.”
She shifted slightly. “If we want to have sex, we do that and get to know each other’s bodies. If we want to binge every season ofHexes at Noon, we do that too. And if we want to...” Her cheeks flushed scarlet. “I don’t know... have some alone time to, like—” She chewed the inside of her lip in the most adorableway. “—physically work through some of the more... complicated memories, then that’s okay too.”
It took a moment for her words to sink in. Was she... was she saying that if I needed to take myself off and work through the lingering thoughts of Ambrose, she’d be okay with that?
I mean, I wouldn’t. Jerking off to the memory of Ambrose would probably be the worst way imaginable to try and get over him. But at least I knew my mate wouldn’t judge me if he crept back into my thoughts now and again.
“Or whatever,” she added, her voice flustered. “What I’m saying, Blaise, is that I’m not expecting everything to just miraculously fall into place because we’re fated mates. I just want to spend time with you. Get to know you.”
I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my lips.
“Let’s start simple,” I said, “and spend the evening binge-watching the first season ofHexes at Noon.”
“You know you can’t do aHexes at Noonmarathon and stop at the end of the first season,” she said. “There are only six episodes. We’d have to aim for at least halfway through season two. Which means we’re going to need supplies. I kind of ate, like, a month’s worth of snacks on the journey over here.”
“Yes, I do recall anobsceneamount of candy wrappers on the dashboard.”
Caitlyn shrugged. “It’s the Myers curse. We all have an insatiable sweet tooth. Anyway, there’s a town about half an hour away.” She jumped to her feet. “I’ll gettwomonths’ worth of snacks for us, just in case.”
“Let me go for you,” I said, that uncontrollable, freshly mated urge to see my mate pampered kicking in full force. But the demonic need to tease was just a little stronger. “I don’t think theMean Machinehas another journey left in her.”
Caitlyn’s response was a playful flick to my nose. “Her name is Ms. Monroe, thank you very much. And she’s been a faithful, reliable car for the last seven years—”
