His hands tightened on my hips, his fingers pressing into my skin as he met my movements with upward thrusts of his own. The pace quickly escalated from tender to frantic, a mirror of our desperate kisses. The room filled with the sounds of skin meeting skin, ragged breaths, and the soft, pleading sounds I couldn’t hold back.
“Skye…” I moaned. His name on my lips shattered his control.
With a possessive growl, he rolled us over, pinning me beneath him without breaking our connection. The new angle allowed him to plunge even deeper, each thrust more urgent and claiming than the last. He kissed down my chin to my throat, his teeth grazing and nipping as he drove into me. Skin met skin, and the feeling was electric, and magical. The hollow ache that had lived in my chest for weeks filled, not just with his presence, but with the rightness of it. Every touch, every sigh, was a silentvow. The golden thread I’d first felt in the depths now pulled taut between us, binding us together, heart to heart, soul to soul.
“My Luca,” he murmured against my skin. “My heart.”
Those words were my undoing. Pleasure erupted through me, white-hot and blinding, tearing a cry from my throat. I clung to him as my body convulsed around his. Feeling me come apart sent him over the edge moments later. He buried his face in my neck with a deep, shuddering groan, his release pulsing deep within me.
We collapsed together onto the sheets, a tangled, breathless heap of limbs. He was still inside me, and I had no desire for that to change. His arms held me tightly against his chest, where I could feel the frantic, joyful beat of his heart—a heart that belonged to me, as mine did to him.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“For what,mikró astéri?”
“For climbing out of the painting,” I murmured, “and into my heart. I love you.”
He went still for a moment, then cupped my face in his hands, his eyes shimmering like moonlit tide pools. “And I love you,” he breathed, his voice soft. “My heart was already yours. It is I who should thank you… for setting it free.”
He sealed the words with a kiss—not of passion, but of promise. A silent vow written in salt, skin, and something deeper than magic. I held him closer, watching the real snow fall outside the very real window. The cove was forever captured on the wall, a beautiful memory. But my future was here, warm and breathing in my arms. We had crossed worlds for each other. The rest was just details.
16
While a good partof Christmas day was spent in bed, with me teaching Skye all the wonderful, decadent secrets of modern holidays as lovers, a quiet longing bloomed in my chest as afternoon light faded to evening. I unwrapped the gifts from my parents, a pang of guilt hitting me. I’d been so consumed by Skye that I’d gotten them nothing in return.
I’d never brought anyone home before. Would they understand him? Would they even believe me? I didn’t even have clothes that would fit him.
But then I looked at the man beside me and felt a new strength settle within me. I wasn’t that scattered, uncertain kid anymore. I was Luca: shifter, personal assistant to a terrifying demigod, and the man who had loved a merman right out of a cursed painting.
I had resources, and it was time to call in reinforcements.
I reached for my phone, a plan solidifying in my mind.
Xavier answered on the first ring, as if he’d been expecting the call. “Luca.”
“I need a favor,” I said, my voice firm. “A big one. And I need you to bring Sylas and Keanan. And maybe some clothes.” I eyedSkye, who might fit in the kitsunes’ clothing. “I want to take you all to meet my parents.”
There was a pause on the other end, and I expected him to refuse, but he said, “We’ll be there in an hour. And we’ll bring dinner.” He paused, “And clothes.”
Xavier arrived exactly as promised, stepping into my apartment with his usual, unflappable calm. His gaze flicked to Skye, and for a moment I thought I’d have to explain, but Xavier’s smile told me he already knew. He greeted Skye as if they were old acquaintances, ordered the twins to pick an outfit for him, then glanced back at me. “You’ll want to add this one to the fated mate log,” he said. “With detail.”
True to his word,in exactly one hour, we pulled up in a sleek, black car to the curb outside my parents’ home. My sister’s car still sat in the drive, and my heart hammered as I clutched my art pad in one hand and Skye’s hand in the other.
Xavier emerged first, looking every inch the powerful CEO in a tailored winter coat. He surveyed the neighborhood with an air of detached curiosity. Sylas and Keanan followed, the twins a study in contrasting elegance, each carrying an armload of beautifully wrapped presents. They looked less like dutiful guests and more like mischievous spirits pressed into service as Santa’s most fashionable elves.
And then there was Skye.
He stepped out of the car, dressed in a soft, charcoal sweater that made his eyes look like a storm-tossed sea, and dark trousers that fit him like a dream. He looked more like a fallen angel who’d decided to model for a winter catalogue, than a merman rescued from a painting. He moved with liquid grace,his gaze scanning the house with curiosity, though he held my hand tight.
My mother opened the door, gaping at the group of us as I walked her way, tugging Skye at my side.
“Hey, Mom,” I said, “I’d like you to meet everyone.”
My dad held the door behind her, his eyes wide. “Come in, come in. Let me help.” He offered to take gifts and trays of food. The twins took the gifts to the tree, adding them around the base, then returned to the car to unload the trays of food.
“This is my boyfriend, Skye,” I said, introducing them to my mate first. “And my boss, Xavier.”
Xavier took a step forward, offering a gloved hand to my stunned mother. “Pleasure, ma’am, sir,” he nodded at my father. “Luca wanted us to assure you he’s well cared for and very appreciated.”
