Jessica Andersen - Spellfire

He’d known what he wanted, had known he was going to ask her, of course; hell, he’d had the ring for nearly a month, burning a hole in his frigging pocket. He’d wanted to wait until today, though, to share the moment with their teammates and the magic of the equinox. No way he’d expected Seth’s trick with the fire, though, or for the god to give them their mated marks. That added a whole ’nother layer to the tingles, that was for sure.

As the crowd around him thinned a little and the congratulations died down, he took her hand and brushed his fingertips across her mark, feeling a skim of heat shiver through his own forearm.

He grinned. Oh, yeah. This was going to be very cool.

“Happy?” she asked with a sassy, knowing arch of one eyebrow.

“Very. You?”

“Duh.”

He chuckled and tucked her close against his side, “Yeah. Duh.” Their style might not work for everyone, but it was perfect for the two of them, and that was what mattered, wasn’t it? He didn’t think he’d ever find someone else who got him the way she did, or who made him want to protect the hell out of her on one hand, while challenging her to go faster, farther and hotter on the other. And the thing was, as he looked around, he saw the same kind of love in each of the mated pairs—and in the family joy of Patience, Brandt and the twins—as they leaned into each other and laughed, touched, looked. There was love in every small gesture and moment, reaffirming the bonds that they might have discovered in the years leading up to the war, but that would last for decades to come.

He didn’t know if it was because the magic-users were wired to love so deeply and fiercely, a trick of the jun tan, or what, but he got it now, more than he ever had before.

Looking up at the sky as the fire started to burn low, he let out a long, slow breath. “It doesn’t excuse everything you did, you know.”

“What?” Myr had been talking to Anna—he had tuned out at the first mention of bridesmaids—but now she zoned back in on him and followed his eyes to the sky. “Are you looking at the moon?”

“No. Those five bright stars over there.” He pointed. “They make up the great boar constellation.”

“Your place in the sky.”

“And the old man’s.”

She tightened her grip on him. “He’s gone.”

He shook his head. “Not really. He’s still stuck in here.” He tapped a thumb on his chest. “I can’t . . .” He glanced off to the side, to where the ceiba spread its huge branches far overhead. “I’ve fought and I’ve protected, but I haven’t really forgiven, until now.” Looking back down at the others, he swept a hand toward the mated pairs. “Look at them. Hell, look at us. What we’ve got is special. It’s everything. If you had died—”

“I didn’t.”

“But if you had, that would’ve been the end for me. I would’ve . . .” He trailed off, not wanting to say what was in his heart. Not with the gods so near, with their gift so fresh. “Anyway. I understand better now what happened to the old man, how it must’ve felt to watch Cassie die, then see the boluntiku race off to Skywatch, knowing they were going to kill his sons and not be able to do a damned thing about it. Look at Brandt.” He pointed to where the big Nightkeeper had Harry on his shoulders and Braden swinging from one of his arms, the three of them laughing like loons while the puppy barked like crazy and jumped up, trying to nip at the boy’s sneakers. A few feet away, Patience stood back with Jox and Hannah, and tried to look like she thought they were a bunch of idiots. Her eyes danced, though, giving her away. “Think of what he’d be like if he’d lost that. If any of us had lost each other.”

“It didn’t happen.” She pressed her face to his arm. “We’re all here. I’m here.”

“I know. But the old man didn’t have that, he hadn’t had it for a long, long time.” Looking up at the Great Boar, he said, “I owe you, old man, for getting me away from Oc Ajal, away from Phee and Anntah. I owe you for raising me on your own, and when you couldn’t handle that anymore, for bringing me to live with Jox and the others. I owe you for coming back and helping the others find me, and for telling me the truth about who I am. I’m grateful for all of those things, even if you didn’t really do them for me. And I get it now. I understand why you were the way you were. That didn’t give you the right to be an asshole or a shitty father, but it gives me a reason to let it go. So there it is. I forgive you, Father. It doesn’t matter whether or not you give a crap, because I do. I forgive you, and I hope you’ve found your peace up there with your family.”

It wasn’t until he finished that he realized the others had all fallen silent, that they’d heard what he’d said. But as he looked around at them and shrugged a little, suddenly uncomfortable, he caught Patience giving him a thumbs up. Then Jox. Then Strike and a few of the others. And that made it okay, somehow. Better than okay, even.

It made it right, finally.

“Well,” Dez said into the silence. “I think this calls for the newly traditional Cardinal Day feast . . . Who’s up for some football, beer and wings?”

A laughing, ragged cheer rose up from the group, gaining ground and volume as it went, and the others dispersed to grab the coolers and other essentials from the winikin’s hall.

When Rabbit started to follow them, though, Myr tugged him back. “Not so fast, buster.”

“Wait, what? Did I do something wrong?”

Her flashing eyes softened. “No, baby, you did something very right.” She pressed her hand over his heart, which thudded double-time when she leaned in and kissed him softly. “I’m so proud of you.” She kissed him a little harder. “I love you.”

This time when she kissed him, he closed his hands on her hips and took it deep, whispering through their new bond, Thank you, and, I love you, too, and Gods, I’m so glad you’re mine.

Heat rose as the kiss continued, tightening his skin and making him think they should slip away for a half hour or so and nobody would notice. But when he started to urge her off toward the shadows, she twisted away, shot him a sidelong look and headed for one of the coolers to snag a couple of beers, then skipped toward where a game of touch football was forming up, cocking a “come hither” finger at him as she went.

He laughed aloud and followed, joining her in the huddle, grabbing his beer and letting his body bump against hers, amping the anticipation that was growing steadily between them.

The night was young, after all, and they didn’t need to rush. There was a whole world of trouble for them to get into . . . and they were going to have a lifetime together to do it.

A series of childhood trips to the Yucatán left Jessica Andersen with an enduring love of Mayan myths and legends. Since leaving academic science for a career as a novelist, she has written more than twenty science-based romantic suspense novels. Now she’s thrilled to bring her research background to bear on one of her earliest fascinations, the Mayan 2012 doomsday. Jessica is a lifelong New Englander; she and her critters currently live in eastern Connecticut, on the border where Yankee country intersects with Red Sox nation (go, Sox!).

Connect Online

www.jessicaandersen.com

facebook.com/docjess

Foster grinned as he led Brutus in from the geldings’ pen, where a dozen or so mustangs were munching hay and snoozing in the sun.