Page 103 of Fated to Her

I look over my shoulder at him. Feeling someone behind me, I gaze up over the lounge. Cyrus leans down, and I’m about to kiss him when the smell of burned almonds wafts to me. I jerk away, turning to see Cyrus still in the kitchen. I smack Latham, and he grunts.

“I nearly confused you. You almost kissed me. Usually works the first time,” he teases.

“What did he do this time?” Eli says, walking out as I glare at Latham.

“Pretended to be Cyrus, so I would kiss him,” I tell Eli, and he growls. “How did you do it?”

“Magic,” he says, wiggling his fingers in front of my face.

“He is a demon, Addie. You will get used to him being a creep,” Cyrus says, walking over and putting a plate of Chinese on my lap.

He hands Latham his. “Behave,” Cyrus tells him, and Latham smiles at him.

“Always,” Latham retorts before vanishing and then reappearing beside me on the couch.

“You ever heard of personal space?” I ask him.

“Yep. Why? Do you wanna get personal, Addie?” he says. I roll my eyes.

“Well, we have some news, actually. We are moving back to Parse. Going to move the base down there so Addie can be closer to her family,” Eli says, sitting with dinner.

“Of course, you are,” Latham says. He doesn’t look too happy.

“I was hoping you would stay a bit, but I guess I’ll help you move,” Latham says.

“I thought you were taking a year off,” Cyrus tells him.

“He says that every year,” Eli adds.

“Maybe I’ll be good to hang with Addie some more,” Latham says.

I growl at him.

“Does she purr like that in bed?”

“Latham!” Cyrus says.

“Fine, fine. But maybe I’ll still take time off. Can’t torture people forever, be good to get away. I have enough souls to last me a few years now.”

“Souls?” I ask.

“I’m a demon, Addie. I feed off souls, blood, and emotion. Incubus is another word. You should meet some of my friends. They will creep you out.”

“Nope, you creep me out enough.

He laughs.”

“Glad you kept her. She’ll keep you both on your toes,” Latham says.

I shake my head.

My son cries out from the bedroom.

I get up, only for Latham to vanish before reappearing again on the couch with my son in his arms.

“Should you do that with a baby?” I ask him.

“It’s called misting, and yes, it won’t hurt him. I wouldn’t put your son at risk, Addie,” he says, passing him to me.