Page 104 of A Bloom in Winter

Getting to his feet, Tohr checked his watch. “We’re already inching up to a civil war. Let’s not rush that conflict, shall we?”

CHAPTER THIRTY–SIX

As Mahrci re-formed, her heart was pounding. All things considered, it was kind of a miracle she’d managed to dematerialize without a trazodone on board. But she’d been so determined to get Hemmy off her father’s property—

The male became corporeal beside her, and as he turned to the house, his eyes went wide. “Oh . . . wow.”

Taking a deep breath, she, too, pivoted to the old converted barn. “So this is . . . my home. Where I really live.”

Not that she came very often, although that was going to change now.

“Come on,” she said as she took his hand. “I want you to meet the female who raised me.”

For some stupid reason, she was all aflutter as she pulled him up the walkway. Then again, she had been delighted by this place since the moment she’d bought it. The barn was painted, well, barn red, and had white piping at all its corners, along its roofline, and around its windows. Set in its snowy field, the structure, with its attached grain silo that had also been converted, made her heart sing.

And maybe a little part of that cardiac a cappella was the male who was with her—

The arched-top door—which had always reminded her of what a hobbit entry might look like—swung wide.

As the older female appeared, Mahrci felt tears flood her eyes. “Crawlyn!”

She skipped ahead, and the instant she felt those familiar arms come around her, she nearly lost it. After everything that had happened, this was the only place she could go. The only person she trusted.

Pulling back, she glanced at Hemmy. Well . . . there was another one now.

“I’d like you to meet . . .”

While she trailed off, Hemmy stepped forward. “Ma’am, it’s a pleasure. My name is Mayhem—but that’s not a descriptor, I promise.”

As he put out his palm and met Crawlyn right in the eyes, Mahrci knew he’d won the older female over. Hell, he’d had her at “ma’am.”

“Well, I am most pleased to meet you.” Crawie wiped her hands on her granny apron and smoothed her graying hair. “I am Miss Mahricelle’s nanny.”

Hemmy’s bow was so courtly, so respectful, Mahrci had to blink her eyes quick. Or maybe that was from the sense that they were both safe out here: She’d done it. She’d gotten free of not just Remis, but her sire.

“Come, come.” Crawie stepped back and motioned into the homey living room. “I prepared the spare guest room for your friend, as you requested.”

Although given the twinkle in her eye, she knew that “friend” was a loose term of art.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said as he squeezed through the door with the two bags.

Walking in the main living area, Mahrci looked around with fresh eyes, and hoped that Hemmy liked the cottage style. She and Crawie had decorated the whole place together over the last year, picking up comfy sofas and chairs, folksy art and rugs, andhandmade furniture from some humans who still lived as they had centuries ago.

As Mahrci entered the kitchen, she frowned at the purse and coat that were on the table.

“Oh, that’s right,” she said. “It’s bingo night.”

“It is. I shall be back in about three hours.” Crawie pulled on her red-and-cream wool coat. “I left plenty of food in the refrigerator. Do help yourselves—and, Mayhem, I must say, I’ve heard only good things about you. I look forward to sharing Last Meal and learning more firsthand.”

He bowed at the waist again. “Ma’am, I can’t wait.”

“And you know, it’s nice to have a male in the house—it makes one feel safer, and I shall not apologize for my old-fashioned beliefs.” Crawie gave Mahrci another hug—and this one lingered. “Are you well enough?”

“Yes,mahmen.”

As the older female pulled back, there was a gloss of tears on her eyes, too. Then she put her hand on Mahrci’s cheek. “It’s going to be fine.”

Is it, she wondered. She wasn’t totally sure, although this was an important first step.

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