Page 49 of Crescent Kingdom

She began kneading my chest and let out a happy purr. I couldn’t help but give her a little scratch behind the ears. The purring only intensified.

“She’s so cute,” I cooed. But as I studied her, I realized she wasn’t a kitten after all. Her features were almost uneven, her legs and body shorter than a normal cat’s, but her facial features were that of a full-grown kitty. “Is she some special breed?”

Locke shook his head, a smile playing at his lips. “No, she has dwarfism. Someone abandoned her at the local shelter.”

“Who would abandon you?” I singsonged, letting my fingers sift through her fluffy gray fur. “You’re perfect.”

“When the shelter has cats with more complex health needs, they usually call Ender,” Kingston explained. “Sometimes, he fosters them until he can find a permanent placement for them, but with Princess, he kept her.”

“That cat runs his life,” Puck muttered. “He video calls her when we’re on missions.”

I blinked down at the adorable creature making herself at home in my lap. “Are you telling me that the most cantankerous of all of you, the assassin, is also…a cat daddy?”

Locke started choking on the sip of juice he’d just taken, and Brix thumped him on the back. Puck burst out laughing. “I’m only calling him that from now on.”

“Be prepared to get an arrow somewhere painful,” Brix warned.

“Worth it,” Puck said, popping a piece of bacon into his mouth before taking my plate and starting to fill it.

“I’m still trying to process that the dark lord has a heart,” I mumbled as Puck set a heaping plate in front of me.

A deep chuckle sounded, and everyone froze, turning slowly toward Brix. Puck’s jaw dropped. “Did you just laugh?”

Brix snapped his mouth shut and glared at Puck. “I laugh.”

“Once in a blue moon,” Locke muttered.

“They’re not wrong,” Kingston said, breaking off a bite of biscuit.

I took my free hand and picked up my fork, spooning some grits onto it. As I took the bite, I couldn’t help but close my eyes as a soft moan left my lips. It was the best thing I’d tasted in my life. I’d thought the sound had been quiet enough for only Princess to hear, but when I opened my eyes, I found four sets on me.

I swallowed quickly, my cheeks heating. “Sorry. It’s really good.”

“Birdie, you keep making those sounds, and I’ll make it my life’s purpose to be your personal chef,” Puck growled.

I broke off a piece of my biscuit and threw it at him. But he simply caught it in his mouth.

“I could do this all day,” he murmured.

“Don’t make Wren uncomfortable,” King chastised.

Puck sent him a look of mock affront. “I would never do any such thing. Birdie, do I make you uncomfortable?”

“Only when you say Guinness is a good beer,” I shot back.

He glared at me. “Guinness from the tap and in the UK, my love. Not the drivel here.”

Something about the words my love had my internal temperature ratcheting up several degrees. It was stupid. I knew Puck was just teasing, but I couldn’t deny how every part of me wanted those words. Which made zero sense because I barely knew him. I barely knew any of them. Yet I yearned for them all.

“Wren, you okay?” Locke asked tentatively from across the table.

I shook myself out of my stupor, spooning another bite of grits with one hand while petting Princess with the other. “I’m good, just thinking about the fact that I missed work yesterday.” I glanced at Puck. “Did you let Dina know I’d be out?”

He nodded. “Told her you had a bad migraine.”

The familiar explanation made an ache take root in my chest, memories rising of all the times my mother had made that excuse for me as a child. “Thanks. Does anyone know what time it is?”

“Eleven,” Locke answered. “Why?”