Page 148 of Cathmoir's Sons

The battle raged for days untold,

Until the Danish heart grew cold.

Like winter’s frost upon the field,

Or maiden’s eyes that secrets yield.

The Saxon sword brought Dane-man low . . .”

And then the poet faltered, staring at the two Queens, apparently at a loss for a way to finish his poem. The cats began sniggering.

The crowd pelted him with rotten apples.

The Crow Queens pulled the poet away from the crowd. They used their silver to ply him with fresh goose pie and ale at the King’s Arms until he fell asleep with his head in one Queen’s lap.

When the poet woke, he was in Faery, in the Court of Cold Mist, where he would evermore delight the maiden with ice-blue eyes with his words and bear the sniggers of her cat.

Smiling fondly at the memory, I run the tips of my claws over the last line I’ve written before I close the Kiss Book and leave it for my consorts to find.

They’re still asleep in a pile on our bed, although Law has started flexing his feet in the way he does before he wakes. Whatever antagonism there might be between them during the day, there’s none in our bed. Rhodes sleeps with one arm thrown across Law and the other curled around Luca. They look angelic, sculptural, as they lay together, their muscled bodies soft in sleep. My beautiful, beautiful men.

I feel rather than see Law wake. The faintest brush across my consciousness. When my gaze drifts up his long body, he meets my eyes and smiles. His eyes are slitted, puffy with sleep, the faintest green gleam reflecting back at me.

He removes Rhodes’ arm from around his waist with disdainful fingers. Rhodes grumbles in his sleep and wraps himself around Luca. Law pats the bed beside him.

“Only if you have breakfast stashed under the pillow,” I whisper to avoid waking Rhodes and Luca. “I’m starving.”

Law chuckles. “That’s the way of it, huh? I’ve served my purpose and now am only good for feeding my pregnant mate?”

I grin. “Pretty much.”

He rolls out of bed gracefully and stalks to where I sit near the window, which has just begun to pearl with the dawn. He kneels at my feet, muscle bunching gracefully in his thighs, and wraps his arms around my hips.

“Good morning, my queen,” he murmurs. “You are more beautiful every morning.”

I trace his strong brow with my claws. If there’s one of us who is more beautiful every morning, it’s him. “Good morning. Are you offering me compliments instead of food?”

He laughs, his chest pressing against my knees. “Never. Let me carry you downstairs.”

“Did I lose the use of my legs in the night?” I stretch one out and notch it around him, pulling him even closer with my calf across his back. “They seem fully functional.”

Law shifts to drop kisses on my thigh. “And long and curvy and delicious. They’ll get a work-out when you dive today, so let me carry you down to breakfast.”

Seems like a good deal to me. I hold my arms out. He pulls me close and rises like I weigh nothing.

“Cait?”

“Cait,” he says smugly. With a kiss, he carries me out of the bedroom and into the hallway.

“Naked Cait,” I point out.

He shrugs. “My house. If they don’t want to see me naked, there are hotels in town.”

I smack the back of his head affectionately. “Weinvitedour house guests to stay with us.”

Unrepentant, he grins. “They didn’t have to accept.”

“So rude.”

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