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The thought made my stomach turn, bile bubbling up, and I cringed, opening my eyes to find my friend watching me with a small grin. To her, this was all fun and games, but she’d grown up a witch, surrounded by magic of all kinds—I couldn't shake the visual of necks snapping and wolves being turned away at the doors for thoughts they couldn’t control.
“No. Thanks, though. I’ll just have to figure something else out since she wants to be a bitch about everything.”
Ihatedthe idea of Marilyn prowling around in my head like Zuzanna had done to the Paras and all the newcomers. That violation of privacy was frightening. While I knew it was a necessary evil, there was no way I was letting anyone try it on me; I would find my own way of dealing with my angel.
“Maybe sparring would help?” Kiran piped up, leaning back on his palms and stretching his long legs out. “You’re full of tension. I would normally suggest other methods of relaxing, but I think your mate would have my head.”
I gaped at him, caught off guard by his flirting. “Kiran!”
“What?” He batted his lashes innocently. “I’m a certified massage therapist, you know.”
“You’re so full of it!” Laughing, Marilyn shoved his shoulder, and the older hybrid finally joined us, giving up his act.
It was easy to forget he was thousands of years old sometimes with how he acted. I hoped that if I got to his age, I stayed as lighthearted as he was, even if it was half an act. Anything was better than going completely batshit like Azazel and Lucifer had.
“Okay, seriously, now. Let’s see how far you’ve come,” he challenged.
Marilyn waved him off when he offered to go up against her as well, citing her need to get back to Johnny—a cheap excuse, and she giggled when I said as much—and then we went at it.
Kiran never went easy on me, either. The man had clearly never heard of chivalry, from the way he’d taken me to the ground over and over until I finally admitted defeat. Staring up at him from my place on the ground after one such time, arms spread out, I finally remembered to ask him the question that had been nagging at me for ages.
“Oh, right! What’s a veska? …Vespa?”
His brow furrowed briefly, then rose, a grin pulling across his face in realization. “Vehashka?”
I pointed up at him triumphantly. “Yes! That!”
Kiran chuckled, offering me a hand and helping me to my feet with a shake of his head. “It’s a shame that English is taking over the world. Old Fae is much prettier.”
Once I had dusted off, he continued, smiling. “It loosely translates to ‘soul sister,’ sort of like a platonic soulmate. It’s a term of endearment.”
He begrudgingly allowed me to coo over it, hugging him around the waist.
Despite the teasing, it really was endearing, and forcing him to confirm that Grel had called Sariel “brother” in Old Fae was just the icing on the cake before he escaped my clutches. It was easy to forget that he’d spent most of his life in the Free Kingdom since his accent was more muted, but every once in a while, it would leak through—like when he was feeling embarrassed.
Knowing that Kiran thought highly of me made me feel all warm and gooey inside. I was practically skipping the rest of the day.
Sariel had been more touched than I was, our bond lighting up like fireworks over how he had a place with the fae. His attachment to family was one of my favorite qualities of his, apparently, because every time he got on a tangent about protecting them all, my heart would give a little flutter. Seeing them accept him as part of their lives only made it more noticeable.
“We should learn it. Old Fae, I mean,” I said while kicking my feet that night, and he made a face. “Seriously! If only to see their faces when we use it.”
Sariel scoffed, flopping into the bed beside me and rolling onto his side, eyebrow raised. “And who would teach us?”
I contemplated that, tucking my pillow up under my head with a frown. It took longer than I was proud of to come up with an answer. “I bet Kiyomasa knows it!”
“I’m sure he’d bethrilledtoo.”
Sariel’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. I grinned at him, running my fingers through his fiery red hair when he scooted closer to me. “You know he would. I think he gets lonely.”
My mate shook his head with a sigh, looping an arm around my middle and using it to pull me closer. I tucked myself up against his chest, pressing a kiss to his collarbone and earning a sigh in response.
“He definitely doesnot. Marilyn visits him at least once a day, and I see Auren leaving almost every night after dinner. That’s not even mentioning how he’s always out and about talking to people. The man is a social butterfly—he probably loves getting some quiet time.”
That was true. Kiyomasa loved hanging out with the kids, especially. He’d become the compound grandfather in the blink of an eye, and all the children were quick to sit with him if he stopped by to chat. Tiana had actively encouraged it; the woman was probably the sole reason all the new wolves were trying to fit in with the Resistance families now.
Well, her, Megara, and Iris. The other two women were growing more friendly and less creepy as time went on. I was nearly positive that Elias had pulled them aside and told them to reel it in after Sariel had noticed how weird they were being toward everyone. Thankfully, the two blessed-bloods were more than happy to obey their pack leader; they reminded me of overeager puppies most of the time.
Before I could come up with an argument, Sariel had started pressing teasing kisses to my neck and jaw, his long fingers tracing patterns into my skin where my shirt had ridden up. The man was good at distracting me, putting his mouth to even better use than talking.
