Nevertheless, I care deeply for my friends and everyone on this island, and knowing they see it and appreciate it without me having to dull my edges is unbelievably encouraging for my future in Starry Hill. My future at Arran’s side as we love and lead this wonderful community for centuries to come.
Marisol is next to appear in front of the castle’s ruby-red door, a color Arran insisted we paint it after he felt particularly inspired one day.
The shade also happens to be the exact same as the one on my lips tonight, the same as the one I managed to get smeared all over Arran’s cock before he left to meet the guys.
“You look beautiful,” Nori says as she greets Marisol.
The siren’s long legs are clad in tight black pants and a slinky blue top the same color as her eyes crisscrosses over her back. Three proud bite marks decorate Marisol’s neck, each from one of her mates.
The possessive claiming marks have me reaching a hand toward my own neck and the healing twin punctures I got earlier this afternoon.
After we exchange hugs and a plethora of small talk, I finally remember my manners and take the offered wine from Marisol and usher them both into the kitchen.
Marisol tucks her long black hair behind her ear. “Nori, you’re positively glowing. How’s the pregnancy going?”
Nori rubs her tiny bump. “Good. Morning sickness has stopped, thankfully. And I’m happy the festival is close because I’m starting to show and I don’t want to be too big for the ceremony.”
I pour Marisol and myself a glass of wine and hand Nori some sparkling grape juice. “You’ll look gorgeous no matter what. But what I think we all need to acknowledge is the amazing thingsthis pregnancy is doing for your tits. They’re looking real lush. Can you imagine how good they’re going to look in the wedding dress Peregrine made you?”
“Whose tits are lush and amazing?” Maisie asks as she pops her head into the kitchen.
“Must be mine,” Tilly answers, following closely behind with a shimmy.
“Where’s Orion and Calliope?” Marisol asks, craning her neck as if the babies are going to walk in by themselves, never mind that they’ve not even started solid food yet.
“With their grandma Calla, and Annamae, and Lucille,” Tilly says happily, reaching for a glass of wine.
Juniper, Calixta, and Beryl arrive not much later and soon the kitchen is buzzing with happy chatter.
Dusky pink light fills the room as the sun disappears behind the rolling hills, my heart happy and full as I look at everyone gathered in this massive castle I get to call my home.
This is my clan, my family. This is who I’m choosing over my mortality, the dream and vision of my and Arran’s future alive right in front of me.
My throat tightens with emotion and I swallow against it before I raise my glass. “Cheers, friends. Happy to have you here.”
We all clink glasses then load our arms with platters of food and head to the parlor, laughter ringing out as Anita circles our feet and we try not to spill any wine.
Tilly watches me light a couple more candles throughout the parlor and asks, “You still adamant about not getting a generator for the castle?”
My answer comes easily. “Yup. I like that the castle feels frozen in time. It feels sturdy and dependable, like a living slice of history. You know it’s stood strong over all this time, and you can depend on it to remain as such for many more centuries.”
“Like Arran,” Juniper remarks, lifting Anita into her lap for a cuddle.
Dark ink swirls cover the purple-haired woman’s arms and I know better than to think they’re tattoos. Viggo must’ve painted her with his special kraken ink, marking Juniper up the same way Bodin’s tusks always mark Tilly’s chest and neck.
Come to think of it, everyone else carries some kind of mark from their partner too. Marisol has her claiming bites, Maisie with the red outline of Ren’s tail where it wrapped around her throat, Nori and the hickeys she tries to hide with her hair, Calixta sporting dark maroon tusk marks across her chest, and Beryl with an ever-present indent on her thigh where her wife’s tail currently rests.
Calixta draws my attention back to her with a wave of her long black nails. “You ready to also be called a ‘living slice of history’ one day?”
I fold my arms over my chest and fake a sulk. “Hey, even when I’m a vampire, I’m going to be keeping up with the world.”
“You still sure you want to do that?” Beryl asks, her tone kind, inquisitive, and free of judgment.
I finally take a seat on the couch and chuck a cube of cheese into my mouth. “Don’t you also start. Arran asks me that at least twice a day, and the answer is still yes.”
Nori twirls a red ringlet around her finger. “Are you nervous about becoming a vampire?”
I shake my head. “Nope. I think it could actually be less burdensome than being dependent on insulin. Must say I’m looking forward to not injecting myself multiple times a day and calculating carbs and timing meals.”
