Page 144 of Hand-Fasting and Other Hazards
As she disappeared inside, he let out a slow breath, looking once more at the quiet, waiting street. The night wasn’t empty, far from it—it was full, of warmth, of possibility, of her.
And for the first time in his life, Lochlan felt like he was exactly who—and where—he was supposed to be.
Epilogue: Nia
“THE HISTORY OF SAMHAIN—AND YES, THEY WERE NAKED BACK THEN.” —THE WEEKLY HEX
“The witches are already naked,” Nia said with a laugh, shaking her head as she scanned the celebration.
Lochlan looked at her with the same crooked smile that always made her knees weak. She leaned into him, soaking in his warmth.
Not all of the witches were naked—some still wore flowing clothing and others had clearly come straight from Halloween with the regs, their costumes a mixture of eerie and ridiculous. A vampire adjusted his plastic fangs. A woman in a cat costume had ditched her ears but kept the whiskers drawn on her cheeks.
Becket looked unimpressed. His gaze swept over the revelers, his lips a flat line. “I need a drink,” he muttered, stalking toward the bar.
Nia watched him go, brows lifting. “What’s with him?”
But before he could answer?—
“Lochlan!”
Nia turned and felt her stomach drop. Naked Nancy hobbled toward them, arms flapping dramatically and other things jiggling.
Nia pressed her lips together to keep from laughing, but the corner of her mouth twitched treacherously. Lochlan, meanwhile, had gone rigid.
“I’ll get drinks,” he muttered, his gaze locked on the sky as he made a swift exit.
Nancy, undeterred, changed course and followed after him.
Nia couldn’t hold back her laugh.
“Pyronia.” Her father’s voice came from behind her, gruff but warm.
She turned. This time, no tension curled in her chest, no resentment lingered between them. Instead, she smiled, bright and genuine, as she let him press a kiss to her cheek.
They’d both worked hard over the past two weeks to address the things that had kept them apart for years, and the air between them had cleared. Nia had made copies of her mother’s diaries for him, though she didn’t know if he would ever read them. They sat on a shelf in his new townhouse, the one he shared with his hauntingly creepy but loyal butler and his even more terrifyingly talented chef.
“I’m glad I caught you before the debauchery begins,” Wulfric said, his lips twitching.
“Why?” Nia teased. “You’re not about to marry me off to someone else, are you? Or thinking of getting hitched yourself?”
“Not tonight,” he replied with a rare smile.
Then he took a breath, as if bracing himself. “I know you didn’t want me to interfere with your application, and I didn’t. I swear. But I had to be the one to tell you.” He paused dramatically. “The funding was approved.”
Nia’s heart skipped a beat.
“It’s locked in for five years,” Wulfric continued. “And after that, you’re eligible to have the House for Wayward Supernaturals permanently funded by the Videt.”
She barely processed his next words.
“I may even have offered the manor as a second location when I got the news.”
For a moment, Nia could only stare at him. The words sank in slowly, their weight settling in her chest, filling her to the brim.
“Dad!” she squealed, launching herself at him.
He let out a startled laugh, catching her as she threw her arms around him. He held her tight. “I’m so proud of you,” he said into her hair. “Your mother would be so proud.”
