AllFreeNovel
Share Us
This woman was quickly becoming more than just my mate. She was something vital, and it terrified me that my feelings were this deep, this fast, when she still had every intention of leaving me.
The loss of my soul was an immeasurable pain. The sorrow was all-consuming. I barely survived having a piece of me so brutally stolen.
Still, I made it.
This was different. If I couldn’t make her stay, she would cross that threshold back to Earth. Something told me I wouldn’t survive her ripping out my heart and walking away.
The weight of the grief would bury me, or worse, I would become the villain everyone had feared.
After all, what is the point of a soul when you have no heart?
Chapter28
Reagan
“This is what people do for fun on Earth now?” Abyssian asked skeptically, glancing at the tamale assembly line I’d set up on the long table in the castle kitchen. “This just looks like a lot of work.”
“I mean, it’s tedious, but it can be a lot of fun,” I said, setting down bowls of soaked corn husks. “We make tamales, eat, and spend time with family and friends.”
Pol raised an eyebrow. “Spend time doing what?”
“Everyone is different. We like to dance, play lotería, kick Nog’s ass at Mario Kart . . .” Clara answered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “And drink Reagan’s moonshine.”
“I’m out. I don’t know what those other two things are, but I didn’t agree to this,” he responded quickly.
“Agree to what?” I asked, bewildered. “It’s not like we’re skinning cats. We’re just hanging out.”
“I don’t dance,” Pol grumbled, looking at Caius and shaking his head.
“Relax, jackass,” Clara shot back. “No one asked you to dance.”
“Oh my god, just kiss already,” I muttered, grabbing some spoons.
“Reagan!” she shouted, looking between me, Abyssian, and Pol. “Take it back!”
Pol stood up from the table, seeing the tension between my cousin and his friend. “Don’t bother. I’ll just leave.”
I realized all too late that she had likely already made a move on Abyssian, and I’d just embarrassed the hell out of her.
Wincing, I mouthed “sorry.”
“Sit down,” Caius growled, pointing at the chair where Pol had been sitting. “My mate put in a lot of time and effort so we could share something she enjoys.”
“Easy,” I said gently, touching his shoulder as I came back to the table. “Pol, I was just giving my cousin a hard time. It was a poor choice of words. I’m sorry. Tonight is meant to be easygoing and fun. Dancing is optional. Please stay?”
He dipped his chin, taking his seat again.
“So . . . this is how you work the assembly line,” I began, showing them how to open the corn husk, scoop the masa and spread it over with the back of the spoon.
“Why do you stop spreading it before you get to the end?” Caius asked, pointing to the empty part of the husk.
“Leave that part open. That’s where we fold it.” He nodded, watching intently.
“So now you put the meat filling in, just like this.” I showed them how, adding, “I like a more meat-to-masa ratio, but some people like more masa. Do it however you think looks good.”
The guys all nodded, but it was easy to tell they were completely unsure of themselves. Nevertheless, they followed instructions. Slowly. Painstakingly slow. Making tamales was a repetitive process. The entire point of the assembly line was to move things along faster, but when three newbies were at the table, it resulted in a lot of quality control. Too much masa squeezing out the side, or masa spread entirely too thin. The only one who got it well enough was Pol. He seemed to catch on quickly.
We got there eventually.
