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Fair enough.

But I’m still not carrying her fucking bags.

“No.”

Her mouth falls open. The younger woman laughs softly.

“Mother.”

“What?”

“I don't think he's a servant.”

Her gaze slides over me again. My wings twitch. She smiles wider.

“He's obviously one of the, um, locals.”

The way she says locals makes it sound like she's browsing livestock.

“Melida,” the older woman murmurs.

There it is. Confirmation. Melida Ramos.

I dislike her already. A ridiculous amount. And then the front door opens.

“Over here is our garden. There's a lovers' maze just beyond the⁠—”

Belinda steps onto the porch beside one of her guests. She stops dead.

The smile disappears from her face. Through the bond, I feel it. Shock. Then dread.

Then something old and painful that makes my Devil surge so hard my claws threaten to extend.

Hurt.

I shut that shit down immediately. I am not letting Belinda go through this shit alone, and that means staying in control. So, no murdering my almost in-laws. Not today, anyway. She worked too fucking hard for anyone to mess this up.

“Mother?”

Her voice is quieter than it was a second ago.

“Melida?”

Her sister gives her a bright smile.

“Surprise.”

Belinda doesn't return it. I put down the hose. Her mother's gaze moves over the house.

Not admiration. Assessment. Like she's already deciding what belongs to her.

My jaw locks. Then Clarissa appears out of fucking nowhere. I'm beginning to think Sprites actually enjoy uncomfortable situations.

Her pink hair practically vibrates as she takes in Belinda, the women, and me. Her eyes widen. Then narrow. Good.

“Mrs. Peterson!” Clarissa chirps, turning immediately toward Belinda's guest. “I'll take you out back, ma'am. You absolutely have to see the lovers' maze. And wait until you see what we did with the gazebo!”

The woman looks between us.