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His expression goes solemn, a chilling thing to see on flat lips stretched under a broad snout. “If you cry to Theo that I neglected you by leaving you, he could deem that a technical violation of the contract. He might teleport you out of here now.”
“What?” When I had first called Theo, he’d sounded so insistent on the impossibility of leaving before the new moon. Knowing that he could’ve pulled me out of this world, that he left me here simply to prove a point about signing things unseen? “When I get hold of that demon—” Oggie lifts his head. “Not you,” I assure the kitten with a stroke over his soft ears. “The other demon.” A phrase I had never thought I might say. I stare at the minotaur who thinks he’s my match. “Theo could really take me home?” He hadn’t mentioned that when I’d demanded a copy of the contract to review, which I had practically memorized these last few days.
“The choice is yours. It has always been yours. Stay to help me return magic to my realm, and you have the extra time you want, with as much or as little of my company as you desire.” He wraps that last word in a sex-soaked promise of pleasure. “Or tell him my sins and ask to go.”
An offer for exactly what I need on the one hand, and the world I know on the other. So, which do I choose?
7
LEANDER
Why did I give my little mate the very weapon by which she could destroy me and my world? If Meg chooses to leave, I’ll have no way to restore magic. But with her holding my hand and blowing on a measly candle burn as though she worries and frets over me as a real mate would… I can’t force her to stay. It would make me the worst monster of all.
“When you say courting, what do you mean?” she asks, staring at my palm like the answer might be written there. Or worse, as though she’s afraid I’ll shame her if I bring up the fun included in the contract she signed. Who has shamed my mate? I’ll eviscerate him.
I mean convincing her to let me lick every inch of her pale skin to see if it tastes as decadent and rich as its softness feels. Would she be as sweet as she looks, or deliciously tart like her temper? Courting could also include slipping the sapphire silk from her shoulders, to kneel at her feet and worship her with my fingers and tongue. Or spreading her on the massive table in the center of the room, to feast on and fuck.
But I keep those truths to myself for now. I don’t want to scare off my little mate. We’ve made progress between her bravery in confronting me, her gentleness in holding my arm and pulling me along, her care in healing me. I’ll even put up with having the demon cat curled in my lap. “Humans don’t court their mates—” I catch myself in the slip. Yes, she’s my fated mate. Her breath on my skin, like a kiss, able to trigger my magic confirms it—more than my body’s ache for her or my mind’s obsession. “—their matches anymore? What happened to gifts, flowers, and food?”
She ducks her head, and I want more than anything to see what expression she’s hiding. “My world isn’t so old-fashioned. We swipe right on an app and hook up, instead of having dates and dinners.”
“I don’t understand.” Not the language. Not the concept. Not any of it. “What’s swipe right?”
She pauses, dabbing at my newly healed burn with a bandage while she seems to consider her answer. “Sort of like saying yes to a match, but for an hour or a night instead of a couple of weeks.”
What would she say if she knew I wanted eternity from her? The next new moon is simply when the portal opens again. If I court her well, she won’t want to leave. “What’s a hook up?”
She lets go of my hand, and I want to snatch her back to keep her close. “Sex.” A lovely flush has her chest and neck turning pink and those freckles popping like cinnamon stars. I need to see where else her body turns the color of a rose that only grows in one spot in my labyrinth. “Though usually not the kinky stuff talked about in our matching contract.”
I like the way she says our, and the teasing tone that she uses to hide her embarrassment. Truth be told, I like all of Meg. “I noticed most of the acts had been crossed out on your copy. Not a critique, merely an observation,” I hurry to add.
“My friend Val did that. She probably even knows what everything on the list means.” She fiddles with the bandage, pulling threads from the end. “I should’ve realized something was off when she mentioned the kink, but we thought we were at a haunted house for a half-hour tour. Not a weeks-long trip to another dimension. I would’ve packed more than a game piece and one romance novel.”
“A game piece?” I want to know everything about my mate. “Like a chess pawn?”
“No, one of my designs. I create games—the boards, the dice, the pieces, whatever each needs.”
My mate creates entire worlds. “Fascinating.”
“Not really.”
“I disagree. Come sit and tell me, if you would.” I pat the arm of my chair. “I can’t speak for Oggie, but I won’t bite.” Not yet anyway. “And I want to hear about the game piece special enough that you brought it with you.” So I can learn what matters to her. So I can become what matters to her.
“I can bring a chair over.” She glances toward the long table surrounded by heavy benches and a few solid seats that might as well be bolted to the ground. Cow shifters can’t perch on spindly stools. Their weight requires massive and sturdy furniture.
“You might as well drag a boulder in. I’ll stand and give you the chair, if you prefer.”
She perches next to me, stiff and unyielding until Oggie flicks her with his tail.
“Tell me about your game, or the piece you portaled with you.” I make sure to keep my tone a request, not a command.
Meg’s so lovely that I could watch her talk about crop rotations in the southern fields under the magical sun stones, and I would still be enchanted. Her passionate way of explaining the smallest thing, like swipe right, has me wanting to ask her about everything. Except her choice of whether to go or stay.
She shuffles her feet, the scuffing of her sandals the only noise other than the fire and the demon meowing at her for petting. “No, you’ll make fun of me.” She sounds so small, not at all like my champion.
“Of what?” Dear gods, I’m so taken by her that I can’t think of any reason that I would mock her.
“The game I’m designing.” Her voice drops to an almost whisper.
