Page 101 of Hex
Sorry, buddy. Didn’t mean to offend.
Despite my approval of her outfit, Sage changes one last time into a cowgirl look that’s more functional than sexy—including a thermal shirt layered with a flannel. She even added a bright poncho on top of her denim jacket.
“A little much, isn’t it? Can you even move?” I slap her ass because I can’t help it, then turn her around and kiss the breath from her lips.
“I’m trying to be authentic. Is this not it?” She laughs and I don’t even hide my eye roll. “I may be a kyn now and feel the weather a lot less than before, but I’m not as immune as you, Mr. I-don’t-get-cold-because-I’m-a-demon.”
“My little tribrid drama queen. If you need an extra layer, you can always wear me.” My smirk grows into a big old grin when she props up on her tippy toes and smacks her lips to mine.
“Careful what you wish for, Hack-a-Mole.” I groan at her new habit of using ridiculous nicknames with me.
“Satapti,” I growl, but she ignores me.
“I have to practice. He’ll be back in ten months and I can’t let him down by using his name like a loser. I need to find a greatone for the day he comes back.” I shake my head at this hill she’s willing to die upon.
Ever since Danika told us about the sword being meant for Sage, my chosen has been wracked with guilt. Slash took a blade in her stead and every time she thinks about that, she compensates. Trying out new nicknames on everyone is just one of those tactics.
The other is baking. And holy mother of all kyn, it’s not pretty. Slay declared her baking as a weapon of mass destruction and Pierce admitted that this wasn’t in his area of expertise.
What the fuck am I supposed to do? She’s my chosen and she’s obviously going through a self-care phase that involves a lot of baking. By a lot, I mean…it’s invasive. She’s baking faster than we can eat the goods, and that’s saying something considering we have bottomless pits for stomachs. At least the house smells delicious.
“Are the boys coming with us?” By boys, she means Slay and Pierce. That’s another strange thing she’s been doing. I have a feeling her body is priming for kynlings—children for anthros.
“They’re already at the stables, prepping the horses.” Sliding my denim jacket on, I grab her hand and lead her out of our bedroom and our house.
The snow is abundant this year, the empty porch—the outside furniture put away for the winter—a stark contrast to the warmth of our cozy interior. It has finally happened. This huge house has turned into a home because my chosen is in my life. Permanently. It’s ready for a family.
Shit.
I freeze midstep and Sage almost falls on her ass from the abrupt stop.
“What in the name of the goddess…? Are you okay?” I’m staring at my Sage, the future so fucking clear and welcoming as I dive into her eyes.
Am I okay? Yeah, I fucking am. For the first time in my long existence, I’m okay. At least when it comes to me and Sage.
“I’m ready for a family.” With the tact and finesse of a bulldozer, I announce my desire to have kynlings right there on the frostbitten porch, the high-noon sun glistening off the ice on the bare winter branches.
I don’t know what I was expecting, but the snort and smirk from Sage was not it.
“Yeah, right. I’m not.” Then she pulls my hand to continue our trip to the stables but I don’t budge.
“You don’t want kynlings?” My question has her stopping in her own tracks and turning so slowly it’s almost cartoonish. She’s standing on the first step down, which means I tower over her even more than usual, but our size difference means nothing. She’ll always have the upper hand with my heart and soul.
“I mean…” She blinks and I realize I’ve taken her completely off guard. “One day?” It’s a question, not a statement, and it’s a clear sign of her uncertainty. “How would that work, anyway?”
It’s my turn to scoff. “Satapti, I think you are well versed in how it works.” I’m instantly hard at the idea of putting a bunch of my demon babies inside her womb.
Her eyes soften as she steps up closer to me and I know I’ve got her exactly where I want her. “You chose the coldest day of the year to make me stand here in the fucking snow talking about making babies?” With a tip-toe kiss to my stunned lips, she winks before turning and literally running—albeit with difficulty in the deep snow—away from this conversation.
My laughter echoes through the valley as I shake my head at her antics. This is the most Sage thing ever.
“I’m not done with you, Satapti.”
I’m really not and never will be.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Sage
