“Umm,” I trail off, at a loss as to how I’m supposed to respond.
Sarah giggles, opening a door and leading me to a cozy couch with deep cushions and urging me to sit. The coffee table is crowded with open bottles of wine. “Help yourself to a cookie, sweetie,” she says. “I’ll go grab you a fresh glass.”
“Two, Sarah, please!” Ciprian’s voice is strangled. He dropsdown on the couch next to me and throws his head back, groaning at the ceiling.
“Honestly, Son, you’re hurting my feelings.” Mallory settles on the chair across from us and crosses her ankles. It’s almost graceful, except she misses the first time and has to try again.
“I-we—fuck, Mom, I don’t want to drag Celine into this.”
Her soft gray eyes search my face. “She seems pretty tough to me.”
“Yeah, but she shouldn’t have to be.” His words erase my lingering annoyance with him.
Mallory blinks a few times, then leans forward, bracing her elbows on her knees. “You aren’t human, are you, Celine?” She sounds equal parts shocked and horrified.
From the kitchen, a cabinet shuts with a bang and Sarah shouts, “It would be fine if you were, dear.”
“Of course, of course,” Mallory mutters, but her lips are pinched, as if she downed three tequila shots in a row without a chaser.
“I’m not human,” I assure her, tossing Ciprian a look. He’s still staring at the ceiling, like he’s imagining we’re somewhere else entirely. I jab him with my elbow. “I’m an angel, actually.”
Sarah reappears with two oversized wine glasses, shoving one into Ciprian’s hand, pouring chardonnay into the other, and handing it to me. “An angel,” she exclaims. “Do you have wings?”
I nod. This line of questioning makes me nervous, because the most logical follow-up question is what do you do? And while I’m not ashamed of my job, I’m also not stupid. Ciprian’s an enclave heir and the baby—I doubt they’ll be thrilled he’s introducing them to a stripper.
“We’ll have to go flying some time,” Sarah says. “I prefer shifting into a lion, but my husband has an avian affinity,and I’m used to flying with him. There’s nothing quite like the weightlessness.”
I smile, nod, and take a sip—fine, it’s a gulp—of wine.
Ciprian groans. “Please, don’t break up with me.”
“I won’t if you quit whining and pay attention to the conversation.”
Sarah clinks her glass against mine, her brown eyes sparkling with laughter.
Ciprian sits upright, wraps his arm around me, and glances, first at his mom, then at Sarah. “I love Celine. I’m so in love with her that I can hardly breathe. She makes me better and worse and more myself all at the same time, and if anyone messes this up for me, they’ll be dead to me forever.”
He sets the empty wine glass down, grabs a cookie, and stuffs it in his mouth casually, as if he didn’t stun all three of us into silence.
I blink, heat rushing over my face and neck.Holy shit.That is not what I meant when I asked him to participate. It was aggressive. And incredibly hot.
I drain my glass. I shouldn’t find it hot.
When Sarah’s eyes well up, I want to crawl under the couch. “That was beautiful,” she says, bending to kiss Ciprian’s cheek. “Mallory, can you believe it? All our boys are happy.”
Mallory doesn’t look like she can believe it. I’m not sure she’s happy about it either. Her face isn’t moving.
I hold her stare with as much calm as I can manage.
After the longest pause in history, she stands, grabs the wine bottle, and refills my glass before sitting back down. Her eyes are glassy, and the depth of emotion lurking there stuns me. “Welcome to the family, Celine.”
I’m so on edge that my magic tests her without me asking it to.
She’s telling the truth.
I’m too stunned to respond, but she’s already turning herattention to Ciprian. “Your father would have loved to meet her. He wanted—” She gulps, then pats her hair. It’s a nervous gesture; there’s not a strand out of place. “He would have liked the opportunity to make a good impression.”
The wave of grief that rolls over them both is impossible to miss. I find Ciprian’s hand and squeeze his fingers, stroking his knuckles with my thumb.
