Page 64 of Cathmoir's Sons

“How’d you know about that? Were you at Carrie’s memorial?”

Not for that part. I was delivering some well-deserved vengeance to a stuffy snake shifter. Here’s hoping the scratches get infected.

“It was the first thing I found in Luca’s mind when he pulled me to Pandora’s Box. He’s extremely flattered to be invited.”

I let my wretchedness at not being invited go unspoken. I’ve already resolved to call in every single favor Luca owes me to go in his place.

Kellan purses her lips at me. “Do you want to come?”

I channel every sad cat face I’ve ever made at being denied treats, pets, toe-bean kisses. “If I wouldn’t embarrass you in front of such illustrious company.”

I avoid batting my lashes at her but it’s a near thing.

Kellan laughs softly. “Pathetic attempt, Law. Of course you can come. And for the record, the only time you’ve ever embarrassed me was with your jealous fits. Those need to stop.”

“Male Cait in the mating frenzy are extremely territorial,” I say.

“Talking about yourself in the third person doesn’t excuse your tantrum, Law.”

I work hard to keep a straight face. She’s bantering with me, standing in the circle of my arms, so close I can feel the warmth of her breath on my jaw. It’s fainter here in Hell, but I would know my mate’s warmth anywhere.

I haven’t been this happy since I saw Caileán waiting for us naked at the gates of Ceòfuar. I love every aspect of my mate. Awakened, unawakened, I cherish every facet of her. While Caileán’s appearances have kept me from falling into despondency, I’ve missed Kellan with my whole soul.

“I’ll make every attempt to stop peeing in your shoes.”

Her eyes narrow.

“Is it pee?” she asks.

“Itcontainspee.”

“Gross. Seriously, Law, gross. Find another way to mark your territory. No pee. No tantrums.”

“How do you feel about scarification?” I ask.

“Even less good than I feel about pee in my shoes if it’s going to result in a permanent mark that says something deranged like ‘property of Law’.”

“Property of Cait?” I suggest.

“Big no.”

“A small symbol thatmeans‘property of Cait.’ In Caitish. Very subtly.”

Kellan rolls her eyes and turns her back to me. My breath catches in my chest, waiting for her to move away. I’ll respect her boundaries, somehow.

She leans back against me, catches my wrist and draws my hand back to her belly.

With a contented sigh, I shift so my chest and abs take her weight. I rub a gentle circle over her soft stomach.

“Draw it for me,” she says. “I’ll think about it.”

I close my eyes in bliss and bury my face in her soft hair.

Chapter 18

My Own Italian Villa

KELLAN

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