Page 300 of Sky’s Edge

“Fall in love with you for only you,” I finished for him.

He nodded. “So, knowing all of that, are you angry?”

I rested my hand on the base of his throat. “Honey, I fell in love with you for”—I pressed in at his throat—“you. So no. I’m not angry even a little bit.”

His eyes darkened, his face warmed and his mouth said, “I think we have time for a quickie.”

I smiled.

My fated mate kissed me.

Hurley vamoosed.

We christened the deep burgundy velvet of the new comfy couch in the lounge, finishing in just enough time to clean up, pull our clothes back on and head down to the landing bay to greet our friends.

And thus begin to batten down to face whatever came next.

Epilogue

JOLIE & FLYNN

Tatra

Tatra stood in the room with the three beings—one, the male, lying on his back having had his body stretched to the point all his joints had been dislocated and many of his tendons and muscles had snapped—the other, a female, hanging from the ceiling by her wrists, the tips of her toes dangling two feet above the floor.

The last was a male Tatra had found who should probably be occupying a prison somewhere due to his proclivities.

But she found those useful, as she had with many others along the way, and she’d put them to work.

That said, she was tiring of this.

It had become boring.

“End them,” she said.

The expression on the male’s face was disappointed.

The expression on the faces of the other two were relieved.

The male on his back even started weeping.

She left the room, climbed the stairs, walked down the hall and entered another room where her son was lounging, splayed on a couch with his feet thrown over the back, gnawing some chocolate-almond bunches.

At the sight of him, Tatra drew in a steady breath through her nose, seeking patience (because, really, why must she do all the work?), before she sat primly in an armchair across from him.

“We need a new witch,” she declared.

Arnaud lazily lifted his brows.

“And apothecary,” she added.

Arnaud seemed to be considering something.

With practice, since she’d learned long ago it took some time for her son to form an even mildly intelligent thought, she waited for him to achieve that mammoth task.

He then shifted to sitting on the sofa, set aside his bunches and said carefully, “Mother, these beings you send out, they keep failing.”

“It is of no consequence.”