For years the Yuletide Festival had been something he observed from a distance. Too many people. Too much noise. Too much risk of Hyde rising in the chaos.
But now, standing at the edge of the town square with her beside him, he felt… calm.
Hyde was present—he was always present—but he was quiet, focused entirely on the woman at his side.
“I want to go,” he said, and meant it. “With you.”
She smiled up at him, that warm, brilliant smile that made his chest tight. “Then let’s go.”
They stepped into the festival together. The town square had been transformed. Colorful stalls selling everything from hot cider to crystals to hand-woven blankets lined the edges of the square. The center contained a small shaking rink and Santa’s village. White lights had been strung between lampposts and children laughed as they threw snowballs. Music drifted from the gazebo where a small band played.
It was beautiful and festive, but it was also overwhelming. His shoulders tensed as the noise crashed over him in waves—conversations and laughter and the crunch of boots on snow. There were too many heartbeats and too many scents—cinnamon and pine and woodsmoke and magic.
Hyde stirred. Not aggressively. Just… aware.
Protect her.
His body shifted slightly, his muscles expanding just enough to make him larger, a more solid buffer between Chloe and the jostling crowd.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yes.” Strange but true. “Hyde’s just being protective.”
“I noticed.” She patted his arm, which was now noticeably larger than it had been five minutes ago. “You grew about two inches.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Only if you knock over the hot cider stand.” She grinned up at him. “I’m fine, you know. The baby’s fine. We’re both safe.”
He knew that, intellectually, but Hyde wanted to be sure. He wanted everyone to see that Chloe was protected. Claimed. Loved.
“Let me know if I get too…” He gestured vaguely at himself.
“Enormous? Scary? Likely to frighten children?”
“Any of those.”
She laughed. “You could never frighten me. And everyone here knows you. They know what you are.”
“That’s the problem,” he muttered. He’d been the receiving end of too many hesitant glances not to know that he was regarded with caution, if not fear.
“Not anymore,” she said cheerfully, and she was right.
As they moved through the festival, people smiled and waved. Gladys called out a cheerful greeting. Ben lifted a hand from his position behind the ale stall—which was practically ebullient for the grumpy Other. Flora smirked at them from a stall labeledGiant Christmas Balls.
No one looked afraid. No one recoiled or whispered or backed away. They just… accepted him, both sides of him, and the realization made his throat tighten.
“Hot cider?” she asked, steering him toward a stall draped in evergreen boughs.
“You should sit down,” he said. “I’ll get it.”
“I’ve been sitting all day. You said walking is good for me.” She rubbed her belly, eight months along now. Round and perfect and beautiful.
Ours,Hyde rumbled with satisfaction.Our family.
Yes. Ours.
He ordered two ciders. The vendor—a cheerful brownie named Maple—handed them over with a knowing smile.
