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“Well, good morning to you too, Miss Valari.”
“Sorry,” I mumble into his chest because the chance to press flesh with his pectoral isnotto be ignored. “I know you have that strict rule about snacks in class, Professor.”
His chuckle sends delicious vibrations through my cheek. “I have even stricter rules about my woman going without nourishment for too long—and someone distracted me before I could get her properly fed last night.”
“I blame it on the bee,” I quip. “That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.”
“Well, tell the bee it’s time to go to breakfast.” He punctuates with a light smack to my outer thigh. “I’m sure some tea with honey sounds good right now.”
I don’t disagree with him, especially when we arrive at the salaand I see Kell settling in with some fruit and coffee on the deck out back.
“Go ahead,” Maximus encourages, already seeing the happy anticipation on my face. “Sister time awaits. I’m going to grab some java and head over to the barn. Check in on how everyone’s doing over there.”
I pull on the bottom of his messy bun to compel his lips down to mine. “Thank you,” I whisper after our short but mushy kiss. “For the incredible size of your heart.”
“Which you’re still sworn to secrecy about once we get back to campus,” he mutters for my ears alone.
“Yes, sir.” I can’t help a little grin. If only for a moment, it feels so good to be thinking about reading and essay deadlines instead of supernatural species riffs and honing my crazy witch abilities. “Mustn’t have anyone thinking the Heathcliff of Alameda is actually a snuggly puppy guy.”
“More like a tiger, fox, and horse guy, but you’re still officially ordered to bite your tongue.”
“Unless you want to do that for me?”
The rush of heat across his face almost has me turning around and dragging him…well, someplace other than here. I must admit, the library and its cozy vibes have already inspired a few nonliterary fantasies since we arrived.
Somehow, at least for now, we succeed in stowing our carnal cravings to approach the breakfast buffet. I’m not shy about plopping one, sometimes two, of everything on my plate. I’m also perfectly ready for Kell’s sisterly commentary on the spread, issued as soon as I drop next to her.
“Holy shit.” She huffs. “Knew I should’ve caved and grabbed a scone. Those look better up close.”
“Which was why I grabbed two. You want cherry or lemon-lavender?”
“I have to pick?” Yet she greedily scoops up the lemon-lavender. “Beloved mother of carbs, this is breathtaking.”
“But you still aren’t gasping like you did for Arden last night.”
Her gaze, a russet-infused color a second ago, goes nearly black. “I gaspedathim. Big difference, darling. A huge one.”
I tilt my head. “Huge? Are we talking the size of the diamond he threw into the ocean for you?”
She flings her pastry to her plate hard enough to cause a softching. “Did you really want the lemon-lavender one? Is that why you’re being a premium-level brat now?”
I flare my gaze. “Because I asked a simple question?”
She sniffs and reclaims the scone. “To clarify the point, nobody’s doing anything for anyone unless it’s Arden out for himself.” Her side-eye is even more accusatory. “Tell me I don’t have to spell that part out too. And for the record, your smugness is killing me worse than a scented candle shop.”
Here’s the point where I wisely choose to let her gain some mental footing. It’s a good excuse to bite into my own scone, albeit with a lopsided smile.
“Well, as long as we’re speaking on the record…” While brushing crumbs from the corner of my mouth, I make sure I’ve got her full attention. “I didn’t tell you the full story about Arden’s role in everything last night.”
“Let me guess. He was the one who helped you fly up to the roof. He sprinkled you with dust made out of fairies’ crushed souls.”
“Interesting phraseology.” I deliberately firm my spine. She’s had her second to recompose; now she needs to see I’m serious about this. “Because he’s the one who might be facing some soul squashing right now. When he first came here looking for me, Mother was with him. But there’s not-so-fun history between the witches and her, and it was too hard for her to look past it to tell me anything.”
Kell sits up straighter too. “History? Stuff so bad that she couldn’t get past it? For J and me?”
“She was convinced she had other options.”
“Ah. Sure,” she grouses. “Like consulting her astrologist or calling a press conference.”
