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Rafe looks absolutely ridiculous in the frilly pinafore. The baby pink apron hardly covers a third of Rafe’s barrel chest, and I havenoidea where the guys found it but…
Rafe’s all too happy to wear it for our breakfast meeting.
“I’ll have another, Miss. Rafe,” Mari says from the other side of the table, hardly able to contain her laughter.
“Right away,” he says with a bright smile and crosses to her side of the dining room. He puts a pancake on her plate and she grins up at him. “I know you all think this is hilarious, but there’s nothing wrong with cooking breakfast for my pack, and there’s even less wrong with this pretty pink apron, so you’ll all have to think of something better if you want to humiliate me.”
The whole table erupts in laughter.
“Don’t worry,” Rook says across from me. “This is just the tip of the shitburg you’re in.”
My head snaps to Rook. “I say shitburg!”
He gives me a dazzling smile. “Even more proof you and I are perfect for each other. We like the same stupid puns.”
Jonah takes my hand under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze; while on my other side, Drago shifts his leg, pressing his thigh against mine. The warmth of his skin bleeds through his pants and mine, searing my skin.
I glance at him, but I don’t want to draw too much attention, so I ask in his mind.Are you alright? You feel fevered.
The revenant has taken to making my body uncomfortable when I refuse to grant him access to the forefront of my mind.He keeps his eyes on his plate as he cuts into a stack of five pancakes.
He’s carb loading like the rest of us. Carbs and protein after a heat usually sets a pack right.
Oh, that sounds awful. Is there anything I can do to help?
It is my burden to bear, beloved.
I can’t help the little wiggle of affection sprouting through me at the new pet name Drago’s given me.
Beloved.
Emilia clears her throat. “As I was saying, I’ve finally been able to get in touch with all the bloodlines and orchestrate a meeting. Accommodating thirty-six people is quite the challenge.”
“When can we expect them?” Rafe asks from his spot at the head of the table as he finally sits down.
“Unfortunately, the only time everyone could agree on was Solstice.”
“Solstice?” That didn’t seem like the best idea.
“Eh, it makes sense,” Rook adds. “Solstice is a big deal. Most of us plan our holiday leave from work around it, anyway, so everyone already has the time stashed.”
Jonah pops a sausage link in his mouth. “Why don’t we just go to them? Why make thirty-six people travel here when the five of us could head to Laurel Cove far easier?”
Emilia nods. “I suggested that, but Laurel Cove doesn’t get snow. Most of the bloodlines were happy to make the trek for a snowy, alpine Solstice.”
“Well, I’m excited. I think sharing a snow-topped Solstice with a coven of East Coast witches sounds fantastic.” I shove a forkful of pancakes in my mouth and lean into the excitement instead of the other things I’ve been ignoring.
Drago’s death sentence.
And according to him, when one in a bonded and claimed pair dies, so does the other.
My death sentence.
And by extension, Rafe’s. And now Jonah’s.
Three months is a long time when there’s a countdown on your life.
And when the only answer to it is to sever the bonds between your mates…
