Page 71 of Light

“Excuse me?” Mom flings back. “Helllooo, earth to Emmalina Paisley.”

“Huh?”

She laughs. “Darling, are you listening to me?”

“Of course. Yes…of course.” The words are so full of additional meaning, responding to so much of the sensual promise in Reece’s sultry stare that they hop from double to triple definition. At least I hope so. Depends on where the man’s drawing the line between his silent I need to talk to you alone and I want to fuck you mindless.

“That’s still not an answer to my question,” Mom mutters.

“Sorry,” I return. “Reece just got in, and now the kids want to go to Two-Bit Circus.”

“Where?”

“An arcade here in town.” I deck myself inwardly for not remembering to simplify the explanation. No way am I going to try explaining VR gaming, escape rooms, laser tag, and a digital midway to her right now. “Look, I have to go.” Not a lie. My poor husband is still trying to navigate across the living room as a walking monkey mount. “We’ll talk soon about a visit for you and Lux.”

“Who’s Lux?”

“Errrmmm—” I wince, enduring the same look from Reece, as I swiftly backpedal from the slip. “Just a funny nickname he likes. But we’ll set a date for you and Dad to come up and see him soon.” With supervision. Lots of it. As in, every molecule of the air being monitored by Angie, Wade, Sawyer, Fershan, Reece, and me.

“Thank you, honey. I love you so much.” Mom’s voice is back to a vocal sachet, soaked in gratitude and love. While my nose scrunches because I can practically smell the odeur on this air, I also want to sob because of the lie I’ve just perpetuated—and will keep telling until I’m one-hundred-percent positive she’s not being swept by the Faline Garand brain bots anymore.

“I love you too. I really gotta go.”

I end the call with another pinched expression. Damn it. I can’t stand that it has to be this way. I’m throwing her the grandma version of bread scraps, a raw deal she doesn’t deserve—but that isn’t changing anytime soon. A chunk of her mind has been hacked off and carved out by Faline. I desperately wish the situation were different, but it’s not.

God.

I wish a lot of situations were different right now—but they’re not.

I set down my phone and meet Reece under the archway between the living and dining rooms, I feel like Cruella de Flare for coming at him with all my leftover tension from the call with Mom—especially right now. If we were living in the Team Bolt video game, his fuel, water, and life force bubbles would all be near the ominous red empty level. His leathers are scuffed and dusty, his face is smudged and scruffy, and his gaze is dull and tired as pewter.

Yet the man is still grinning like a mindless dork.

The expression intensifies as he trudges closer, still dripping with kids, and scoops a hand around the back of my neck. And kisses me like he really, really means it.

From the second I mewl in ecstasy and he adds tongue to the clinch, Lux and the girls jump free as if their climbing tree is crawling with fire ants. Just fine by me. The man’s glorious mouth and tantalizing tongue send a million of those figurative critters across my skin and through my body. I’m feverish from the fire skittering up and down my limbs and then diving into the flood of my bloodstream until it all funnels into the pressurized triangle at my aching core. Oh shit, even now. In front of the children and my sister and—

“Perhaps you two should take that to a different room, oui?”

And Angie, becoming my sweater-and-leggings version of a rescue knight extraordinaire, swinging her mottled dome around with a worldly smile on her cosmopolitan lips.

“Go,” the woman urges, her gaze sparkling brighter. “You have not taken a moment for each other in three days.”

“Mademoiselle LaSalle is très right,” Lydia pipes in. “Besides, your phone is now officially commandeered, baby girl.” She scoops the device off the table and slips it into the back pocket of her denim capris. “You won’t see it again until after I hear screams or snores from the bedroom. Preferably both.”

Reece unfurls a savoring growl. “Did I ever tell you you’re my favorite sister-in-law?”

Lydia snorts. “Just go and spoil my sister rotten, would you? Preferably in horizontal positions.”

“Deal.” Reece extends his fist, making an explosion noise as ’Dia returns the bump. I give in to a fresh faceplant, rolling my eyes at them from between my sprawled fingers.

“Jesus wept,” I mutter.

“No, baby.” Reece grins while curling a hand around my waist and yanking me close. “Save the tears for what I’m about to do to you.”

Lydia snorts. “I’m not sure whether to cheer or barf right now.”

“Perhaps…neither?” Though Angie’s cagey expression conveys her approval of the same sentiment.