“Better?” he asks.
“Getting there.”
Soren kisses me again, deeper this time. When we break apart, I’m breathless and flushed. Soren looks at me with those impossibly black eyes, something unreadable in their depths.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.” He brushes snow from my hair. “Just thinking about how things have changed.”
“How so?”
He steps back, giving me space. “When I first met you, I saw sustenance.” He smiles ruefully. “Now I see you.”
I don’t know what to say to that. It’s possibly the most honest thing Soren’s ever said to me.
“Don’t look so worried,” he says, misinterpreting my silence. “I still want to eat you alive. Just differently now.”
I laugh. “You’re terrible.”
“So I’ve been told.” He offers his hand. “Come on. Let’s get you inside before you turn into a witch-sicle.”
By the time evening arrives, I’m warm and clean from a long shower, dressed in a soft cashmere sweater dress, the most comfortable thing I could conjure and still look somewhat fancy. Hank is perched on my shoulder, watching my every move as I apply a little makeup.
“What do you think, Hank? Too much?” I ask, studying my reflection.
“Ribbit,” he responds, which I take as approval.
There’s a knock at my door.
“It’s open,” I call.
Lucien enters, dressed in a dark suit that fits him perfectly. He takes in my appearance with a slow, appreciative gaze. “You look lovely.”
I smooth down the front of my dress self-consciously. “Thanks, so do you.”
He smiles. “Are you ready?”
“For what, exactly? You’ve been very mysterious about this whole thing.”
“You’ll see.” He offers his arm. “Shall we?”
I place Hank on my pillow, where he settles in for a nap. I’ve gotten very comfortable with having a frog around, and Hank turned out to not be very slimy, really. Then I take Lucien’s arm. He leads me through the quiet halls of the academy until we reach a small, private dining room tucked away in the east wing.
When he opens the door, my mouth drops open.
The room is transformed. Garlands of pine and holly drape from the walls, interspersed with twinkling fairy lights. Candles cover every surface, casting a warm, golden glow over everything. A long table in the center is set with fine china and crystal glasses, with a spread of delicious looking food that smells incredible.
And there, waiting beside the table, are Soren and Drake, both dressed for the occasion.
“What is all this?” I ask, stepping into the room.
“Yule dinner,” Lucien says simply. “I thought you might like a proper celebration.”
“You did all this? For me?”
Lucien’s eyes soften. “Of course.”
I’m at a loss for words, looking around at the beautiful decorations, the elaborate spread, the three men who have become so important to me in such a short time.
