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“I’ve requested they refuse Matteus bail, but the Kominskys—particularly Vlad—are influential in Motham, so there are no guarantees. But I’ve slapped an emergency restraining order on him,” Grayson explained.
Behind him Tom, grinned. “You should have heard him whimper when I cuffed him to my leg. He kept squealing that I’d broken his ankle. I told him to take a look at my battle scars and stop blubbering like a baby.”
Shona squeezed Tor’s hand and smiled up at him, and his dark eyes held hers intensely. To wake up and find his beautiful green face, those broad cheekbones and jade black eyes on her, and know that she was alive, that was the best gift.
To know that he’d found her in time.
And to hear him say he wanted to be with her, and for her to be his mate.
The horror had turned so quickly to happiness.
There was another knock at the door. Katrina went to answer it, and a second later, Shona’s parents entered the room. After a lot of hugging and reassuring them she was okay, she was finally able to introduce them to Tor. After shaking hands with him heartily, her dad looked at him with a little frown. “This may sound strange, but you look familiar. Have we met before?”
Tor grinned. “Yes, but I hardly think you’d remember.” He went on to describe his escape from Motham as a young orc, with his pack on his back and no food in his belly.
Her father’s face took on a look of reminiscence. “Yes, by gods, I do remember you. That look of determination on your face. I gave you some food, yes?”
“You gave me supplies enough to see me well on my way. I never paid you a penny.”
“And I cooked you a meal.” Shona’s mom, Veronica, came forward and put a hand on Tor’s arm affectionately. “I remember being worried that your mom would miss you terribly.”
Tor hung his head. “She did, and it was months before I contacted them. I put them through hell. They thought I was dead.”
Veronica tskked. “You young ones don’t understand what it’s like to be a parent. You never stop being our kids. And we never stop worrying.” She went over to Shona and took her hand. “Oh, sweetie. That vampire was such bad news. I never liked him.”
“I know, Mom.”
“So is Tor your… sweetheart?” Veronica’s eyebrows waggled suggestively as she looked between them.
Shona smiled shyly, glancing at Tor, who was blushing bright green. “Yes, Mom, I guess you could say that.” She reached out and took his hand, and he said seriously,“Mr and Mrs Dove, will you give your blessing for me to court your daughter?”
“Goodness, it’s a long time since we’ve heard that term.” Veronica laughed. “You don’t have to ask our permission.”
“In orc circles, we still like to call dating ‘courting.’ And we always ask our beloved’s parents for their blessing.”
“Well,” said Veronica, glancing at her husband. “I think I can speak for both of us, Tor, when I say you have it wholeheartedly—doesn’t he Gavin?”
Most certainly.” Her dad nodded fervently.
When Ivy and Bryn arrived with food, there was literally no more standing room. Getting the hint, the gargoyles and Waldo excused themselves. Shona felt like a queen, lying on the sofa with a blanket over her, and Tor coming to check on her every few minutes.
And finally, she felt up for it—in fact, she was starving. So she joined them, and they all shared a meal around the old carved griffin table.
Shona was tired when everyone finally left, but she didn’t want to sleep, despite Tor’s gentle attempts to put her to bed.
He’d met her parents, her friends, laughed and broken bread and eaten the simple food that they’d brought round to share.
She’d felt so loved, so nurtured. Having him here, meeting everyone that was special to her was wonderful. He’d got on a like a house on fire with Bryn—they’d gone to the same school, but Bryn was a couple of years below Tor. Ivy had kept mouthing at Shona “Marry him,” and “Make babies,” which kept sending them both into giggles. Everyone demanded to know what the joke was, but they didn’t tell, of course. It was girls’ secret business.
“It was so good to meet your parents again. They don’t look much different from twelve years ago.” Tor said as they lay cuddling on the huge ornate sofa.
“Good genes and hard work,” she said, snuggling into his chest. “When am I going to meet your parents?”
“Soon.”
She glanced up at him. “Tor, don’t you want me to meet them?”
“It’s not that. It’s just, my parents live in a hovel.”
