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“I love you so much, Olivia. Always, and forever.”
I kiss his hand and lean back into him as I shiver with aftershocks from my orgasms.
“I love you too,” I gasp. “Always and forever.”
Forty
Olivia
Awarm breeze comes off the prairie, bringing with it the scent of the recent rain. I stare up at the cloudless sky, just begging to show dots of starlight luminescence. My heart is light, despite the fact that there are a million things to do.
The Top Pop New Verdan Rhythm, Blues and Zuphloeulaph Band is soon to take the stage. Albeit an obscure act, they are local favorites and the place is packed tonight.
We were able to rebuild the brewery and then some thanks to the stipend and all of the sympathy and extra publicity Chadd’s stunt caused.
As far as Chadd Gordo goes, he’s been up on a lot of charges. I heard he pleaded down to a lesser charge of reckless endangerment and wanton property destruction to avoid an attempted murder rap. He’s been banished from New Verdan, and the Erebus Collective turned him over to the Star Alliance for summary judgment.
He’s not a threat, and I’ve come to embrace all that New Verdan has to offer. Even the Rork and the D’lorean have their own rugged beauty. Besides, without someone spurring them along Rorks don’t even bother hunting people. We’re just not that nutritious to them.
That doesn’t mean we didn’t repair the fences. Of course, we did.
I make my way past the gathered throng as the band tunes up. I take the first flight of steps inside of the tavern portion upon entry.
I find my mate Yarvok in a heated discussion with Mylar and Cam Neely. It appears they still haven’t found a name for our new dark lager.
“I’m telling you, it should be Yar the Scar,” Mylar says. “We need to capitalize on your notoriety, now that it’s come out you used to fight in the underground circuit.”
“I don’t want to be known as Yar the Scar,” Yarvok sneers. “I want to be known for our beer.”
“Then why don’t we call it Cam’s Lager?” Neely suggests.
“Because we want people to drink it, not spill it down a storm sewer,” Yarvok growls.
“Boys, boys, boys,” I say, putting my hands on my hips. “You’ve been going on and on about how this is the best beer you’ve ever made, yes?”
“Of course, we have,” Mylar sniffs, his eyes growing smug. “I would stake my reputation, nay, my very life upon it.”
“Then why don’t you call it New Verdan’s Best?”
The three of them exchange glances, and then break out laughing.
“Simple and direct,” Mylar says. “Easy to remember and order at a tavern.”
“It can be abbreviated NVB if we want to go edgy,” Neely says.
“No,” I shake my head and cluck my tongue. “We’re not going edgy. Down home goodness is our gimmick, and it works pretty well.”
“You should listen to her,” Yarvok says. “I know she has good sense, which is why I married her.”
“Oh, is that why you married me?” I say in a teasing tone.
We head outside to listen to the band. Elena and Brom are there, and I’m overjoyed to see the small infant in the hover carriage beside them.
“So cute,” I gasp as I stare at his red scaled face. “He looks like his dad.”
“He has his mother’s nose, though,” Brom says.
I hug Elena tightly.
