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“I will admit no such thing. Jealousy is a petty human emotion.”
“Mmm.” I took another sip of the drink and frowned. “Pretty sure Jericho said those exact words to me once.”
“I’ve no time for these ridiculous conversations.” Vaszhago turned back on his path toward the cathedral.
Before he got too far, I yelled over my shoulder, “Tell Nyria I said hello!” When I twisted a bit more, I caught sight of him shaking his head, and I let out a quiet chuckle.
“Mama! Look!” Elyon called out, swinging my attention back toward him and Jericho. “I did it!” Even after months of him calling me his mother, I still hadn’t quite gotten used to hearing the name.
Smiling, I watched as he directed the birds to swoop and take flight, and clapped, while he hopped with excitement. Jericho strode toward me, pausing midway to glance back at Elyon, before he took a seat beside me on the blanket I’d laid out. The mere proximity of him stirred a rush of tingles beneath my skin. The result of the bond we shared, a sensation I felt every time he was near.
“He’s a natural,” he said, lifting my glass for a sip of my chthoniac.
“Like his father.” I leaned into him, planting a kiss to his lips before licking the liquor from them. “He inherited all the best parts of you.”
“Hopefully, he learns to use his wings easier than I did.”
“When do you think they’ll come in?”
“I was about his age, so I suspect not long from now.”
“Great.” I sighed, watching the boy guide the birds a bit too close to the treetops. “So I’m going to have to shadow him, to make sure he’s not jumping off the top of the cathedral.”
Jericho smiled and filled my glass with more liquor. “I’ll refrain from telling you all the things I did when I was his age.”
Watching him pour half a glass of the chthoniac, I raised a brow. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“Perhaps I am, yes.” He pushed up to his knees, and his body forced me back onto my elbows. “I would very much like to meet you in the belltower this evening, Miss Ravenshaw.”
I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth to hide my smile. “I don’t know, Mister Van Croix. I’ve a number of appointments—”
“Cancel them. It’s imperative that I show you a new trick.”
My pulse purred, and I couldn’t help the undoubtedly deviant smile on my face. Since the claiming, a number of things had changed. One of them being sex, in general. It’d become far more thrilling. Literally. Two nights before, he’d flown me up above the clouds, and fucked me in the sky with the moon as a backdrop.
Of course, those damn vibrating feathers had returned, too, which had inspired him to practice his edging technique on me. A torment that’d sometimes lasted hours, but made for downright obscene and filthy sex afterward. I hated how much I enjoyed the return of those vicious pleasure weapons.
“Well, in that case, I’ll be there with bells on.”
His brow kicked up, and he leaned into me, his lips only inches from mine, his breath a delicious cinnamon scent. “Very well. Butonlybells.”
As he leaned in to kiss me, a bumbling force knocked me backward, as Cerberus plopped down between us without warning.
Jericho groaned as the hound intercepted his kiss, licking my face, and I chuckled, petting the invasive beast. He’d lost the aggressive streak toward me, which I’d had no doubt was the result of Syrisa having taken over my body. After Infernium, Cerberus had become twice as protective over me. I’d sometimes wake from nightmares to hear him whining in the yard below my window. In spite of the lookalike I’d slain in Infernium, and the horrific visuals of it still clawing at my head, Cerberus put me at ease.
“Mama, look.” Elyon strode up with Fenrir and Nero in tow, holding something in the palm of his hand. A bright purple butterfly, bearing a strange, pink-swirled design with a fine trim of thin, metallic-looking gold, took up the width of his palm, its wings gently fluttering.
The sight of it brought a smile to my face, as it somehow reminded me of Vespyr.
“She’s beautiful,” I said, and dared to run my finger over its soft, fuzzy wings.
“The symbols are cool. What do you think they mean?” Elyon asked, pointing to them.
“I’m not sure they necessarily mean anything.”
“But they do. Everything has meaning.”
The warm tingle of familiarity hit the back of my neck. The words he’d spoken were the same words my father had always said to me as a child. “Who told you that?”
