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“Everyone will be so jealous of us.”
McCadden cleared his throat. “Not everyone.”
Brochan blinked, satisfaction radiating from him. Then he pressed a swift kiss to Viola’s cheek and said, “Babysit your fur-brother, McCadden. Daddy has things to do to Momma.” With that, he flashed Viola to their bathroom and stripped her in the shower…
Epilogue
Brochan stood behind Viola, dressed in his good leathers. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. This way, everyone could admire his deliciousness properly—Viola’s words not his. The Wedding Reception-slash-Welcome to Our Realm party had kicked off hours ago, but he and his wife remained at the entrance to the throne room, greeting their guests. Apparently, that was something decent hosts did.
He did no greeting, however; he only grunted. He was too busy admiring his goddess. She wore a sexy pink gown, her pale, glossy hair flowing freely. A smile of joy lit her face as she spoke to her friends and acquaintances, waving families inside the spacious room she’d decorated with endless couple portraits.
Fluffy rested in Brochan’s arms, hissing at anyone who attempted to pet him.
Brochan kissed his adorable face. “Such a good boy. You make Daddy proud.” He and Viola had done as discussed and transplanted a wing root between the animal’s shoulders. One of Farrow’s wing roots.
The procedure had proved easier than expected for both the goddess and their fur-son. Fluffy had rebounded quickly, growing a pair of tiny wings covered in soft down. No more infusions necessary.
“How long must I stand here?” McCadden asked at Brochan’s side. A wing root had been offered to him as well, but he had yet to accept. He hadn’t rejected the idea either. They had time now. They would figure everything out and ensure a happy ending for everyone.
“Until your mother gives you permission to move,” Brochan replied.
His brother scowled. While he remained a Fallen One, Brochan had indeed become a Sent One. Without bitterness, he’d had no poison. Filled with love, he’d healed. In the process, he had retained his physical form. What strength you gained through experience, you kept.
Viola motioned him closer, saying to a pretty brunette, “This is the stalker I texted you about. Isn’t he divine?” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Brochan, this is my on-again off-again friend, Cameo, former keeper of the demon of Misery. We’re currently on again, since she started texting me again.”
His chest swelled with pride. He loved when his goddess claimed him. “I am her husband now,” he said.
The brunette responded to him, then seemed to say something teasing to Viola, but he didn’t hear her actual words. Viola was beaming at him. He only heard the sound of joy.
“Viola!” a young boy with a mop of black hair and vivid violet eyes bellowed. He marched over, a lad on a mission, brushing past the one named Cameo, only to stop abruptly and bow. “Goddess. I’m not supposed to say this because it’s supposedly creepy, but I missed you and you are beautiful and I’m going to marry you one day.”
Brochan stiffened. Um…what now?
“Urban,” she twittered. “How wonderful to see you, darling. Brochan, did I ever delight you with stories about how I saved the Lords of the Underworld and their children? Remind me to tell you all the details later. Anyway, I babysat Urban, and he developed a bit of a crush. Naturally.” Leaning down, she said to the boy, “I have a fantastic surprise for you. A new obsession, in fact.”
Straightening, she motioned to the wall behind them, positioned between two flights of stairs, where Farrow’s head hung, mounted like a prized deer…but still alive. And still without a body.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Viola asked.
The kid peered up at Farrow and shrugged. “Yeah. So?”
“She’s also selfish?” Viola seemed to ask a question while stating a fact.
Again, the boy shrugged.
“She’s very…naughty?” Again, the goddess seemed to ask a question.
Now little Urban perked up. He gave Farrow another look, this one lingering, soon becoming admiring. Even adoring. Well, well. He’d taken the bait. Although…
“I don’t know if I’m insulted or not,” Viola mumbled to Brochan. “I thought he liked me for my exquisite face. Turns out, he has the hots for the baddest girl to ever bad.”
“I have the hots for the hottest girl to ever hot,” Brochan told her, earning a smile.
The line of guests moved along, finally tapering off.
Brochan and Viola loomed outside the throne room. He sat Fluffy down and wrapped his arms around his mate. She’d given up so much to be with him. To heal him, she’d lost her ability to mist, one of her greatest defenses. Brochan was determined to always guard her. Though he doubted anyone would ever dare try to harm her again.
Word had spread. Viola could kill the unkillable.
“We have the best story,” she said, beaming up at him. “The world’s most perfect goddess meets a hardened soldier with a grudge, who teaches her something for reasons before she snags his heart.”
