Page 116 of The Enemy to the Living
We shower, and I debate dragging him to bed, but he wanders to investigate the kitchen before I can voice the desire. I watch as he pulls out what food he can from the fridge—someone’s been in and stocked things up because IknowI didn’t have that much in there before—and, to my surprise, tears suddenly well up in my eyes.
Asher spins to face me. He drops what he’s holding on the kitchen side and moves around it, then takes my face in his hands.
“What’s going on?” he murmurs.
“I’m—It’s fine. I’m happy.”
“But?”
Yeah, of course he can feel my emotions. I can feel his.
I bite my lip and take a deep breath to keep everything at bay before I speak. “I really wish my parents could have met you.”
“Oh, Quinn.” Asher studies my face for a moment, then pulls me in for a sweet, short kiss. “Darling, I wish I’d had the chance to meet them, too.”
“And your pack,” I murmur. “All of it.”
“All of it,” he agrees. I tug at him, pulling him in for a hug he doesn’t resist. “I’ll spend time with your pack when I can. I promise.”
“And yours?”
“Mine,” he says with an amused huff—he’s not disputing it, at least. “You’ll hardly be rid of Grant. The rest of them might be slower, but we’ll get there.”
I nod, knowing he can feel the movement, and he kisses the side of my neck before he lets me go. He doesn’t move away, though. “Is there anything we need to do for your parents? Your former pack?”
We. I suddenly want to perform the rites with him so strongly that the feeling becomes a visceral, real thing.
“I’m not sure yet.”
“All right. Do you want to find out?”
Do I? Guilt niggles at my chest. “Yeah, I do.”
“We can do it together if you want.”
I nod. “And the rites?”
“Our mating rites?” He doesn’t look surprised or like he doesn’t want to.
“Yeah. When do you want to do them?” There. No way out.
Asher laughs. “We’ve got time. Do you feel ready?”
Yes. That’s my first thought. But my second is that he’s right—I don’t want our relationship to go slowly, necessarily, but we can wait to do this. A few more years, and the rate at which I’m aging will slow. With the Huntsman’s blessing, it seems like Asher will live for a long, long time.
“We’re not waiting forever,” I say sternly, but my lips are twitching.
“Oh, I’d never ask you to do that.”
He kisses me again, the kind of kiss I can imagine us casually exchanging for the next century or more, then heads back into the kitchen to make lunch. I lean against the side and watch the way he moves around the space. He’s not used to it yet, but soon he will be. Soon this place will be as familiar as his own.
I really can’t wait for that.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Grant
Look,beingavampireis really fucking cool.
