Page 63 of Mortdale

Of course he’d quoted principles of war to his little girl.

She sucked in one deep, courageous breath as she raised her head to look up at her uncle. “I don’t want to do dance, Bear. I want to do bones.”

He blinked slowly as his eyes lifted to me. I winced. “She wanted to know about my hyoid collection and one thing led to another and next thing you know we were patella deep into talking about tarsals.”

I flashed him a big grin, shrinking back in my seat a little.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, but his attention had pinned me in place. “Like your aunt?”

She nodded. “Like Boo.”

It was a bit hard to explain the swelling in my chest. It took me by surprise. Why would anyone want to be like me? Wretched and alone.

The theatre was right in the middle of 11 Blackwood Alley, the most popular street in Mortdale, next to the city hall and only a few lanes away from the parliament. An old grey stone building with a massive pediment carved with some Old Language letters, slate ornate corbels and cornices, and many tall finials prodding at the belly of the thunder-filled skies.

The carriage rolled in front of the carpeted entrance, and Logan hopped off, carrying Piper in his arms.

“What happened to Arthur’s eye?” I asked Liam as he helped me out of the carriage.

The theatre’s red carpeted and curtained lobby was already packed with parents and their buzzing, restless children running around. And though I’d worn every single garment required, I felt entirely too naked when every eye in the room turned in my direction.

“Did you come out in just a nightgown last night or was that just a rumour made up by Rupert because your rat bit him?”

“It was a chemise.”

He shook his head, astonished. “You really do hate him.”

“You’re making it seem like it was my fault somehow.”

He scoffed. “Logan probably punched both of them because they saw you half naked, crazy lady.”

I glanced at Logan, who’d brought a shy Piper next to another dance student wearing a colourful tutu similar to hers. Surely, he wouldn’t do something like that to his friends. And for something that was my fault.

Moving Piper to his other arm, he extended a hand in my direction, and I took it. He threaded his fingers through mine as we passed by the crowd of people filling the gilded lobby. People didn’t stop us, but they all turned to stare at us, the halls growing quieter the deeper into the theatre we went. From the way their faces morphed as they took notice of him, I realised maybe what they said about him was true. Maybe he’d deserved the name they’d given him in the Eastern Continent. The Blood Reaper, who was now my husband.

Thankfully, we were seated in a balcony booth as expected for a fancy duke like my husband. Henry and Arthur were already there, both sporting signs of violence on their faces. While Arthur’s eye was bruised, Henry had a big gash on his forehead.

“I thought vampires healed fast,” I whispered to Henry as I sat down.

He was smirking to himself as he read the playbill. “He gave these to us during the training drill, right before we came here. And he didn’t let us feed, which helps us heal.”

“And you just let him?”

“Kind of hard to move away from a punch when he’s got you pinned.”

Piper raised her arms above her head, blocking my way to her unnecessarily violent uncle. “Bug, look!” she called out to Arthur, and then she did a spin.

All three of us clapped while she hopped about, beaming with joy. Logan caught my glare, and even dared raise a brow at me.

“What’s wrong with you?” I whispered to him.

His response was only a slow rake of his eyes all over my face and down my body.

Piper’s teacher came to our booth, and Logan went down to his knees, inspecting his niece. He smoothed back her near-bald head of hair, making sure to tuck any flyaways into the tight chignon. After carefully inspecting and straightening her tutu, he kissed her brow and stood.

She waved us goodbye as her teacher led her away, and Logan came down to sit on the chair next to me, breathing funny and obviously in some type of distress.

“What got your knickers in a twist now, husband of mine?”