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“Do you like it?” I press my erection against her, dotting her soft, scented neck with kisses.
“Love it.”
“Then aye. I will love you in any way—in all ways—you wish.”
Olivia presses her soft mouth to mine. “Promise?”
“Always. Care to start now?”
She nods, her smile bright. “Don’t ever stop.”
“Never, my love.”
Epilogue
Friday night
November
The Witch’s Brew
Bram
Friday night is rowdy at the pub, with an interesting mix of magic- and humankind. I can ignore the dirty stares from the wizards who aren’t happy a Council member has once again invaded their haunt. In the important ways, this place is perfect for the celebration everyone has in mind.
I have my own agenda.
“’Tis unlike you to let the inmates run the asylum.” Marrok tosses his head toward Caden, Ice, and Duke, all clustered around the crowded bar.
It’s also where Ronan Wolvsey is planted on a stool, pint in hand, mooning at Kari, the bartender. Again. She’s trying very hard to ignore him.
“Well, I have to amuse myself somehow,” I quip back.
“Aye, but is this a good idea?”
He’s smiling, so I grin back. “Probably not, but we’ve all been training our stones off, and some of us don’t have a convenient mate beside us every night to readily restore all the energy we expend on your exacting drills.”
“Even if you did, I have the best.” The big warrior catches his fiancée’s hand and lifts it to his lips, his grin widening at the sight of his diamond on her ring finger.
Olivia smiles. “Of course you do. I’m special. He said so.”
When she points my way, I raise a brow. “I take it back.”
“Nope. Too late. Besides”—she sends me a hopeful grin—“we haven’t heard a peep from Mathias in days. I’m cautiously optimistic.”
“I am, too.” Actually, I’m trying to be.
But the quiet makes me nervous. No threats. No attacks. No Anarki sightings. That’s the good news.
The bad? The Council was quick to pronounce that the Mathias threat was much ado about nothing. They’ve moved onto squabbling about the theme of the upcoming Rose Ball—as if the presentation of Privileged debutants is even important—and nagging me about finding a mate. I roll my eyes. Three hundred ninety-eight isn’t ancient, but they talk as if my biological clock should be ticking madly.
Tentatively, Olivia touches my shoulder. “Hey, I know we’re here to celebrate, and I don’t want to bring the mood down…but I’m sorry Lucan isn’t any better. Being here reminds me of…”
“The night he lost Anka. Me, as well.”
We have yet to find a single clue to her whereabouts. Worse, every surrogate we’ve hired to try to replenish Lucan’s energy has failed. He’s barely clinging to life, and I’m feeling desperate. I don’t know how much longer he can make it.
“You’ve done everything you can,” she assures me.
