Page 24 of Asher

“Then why are you threatening it?” And why do I find that hot? His assertiveness, not the threat to cut off my commando.

“Pay attention, Asher. I’m not happy.”

That gets my full attention. Garrett needs to be happy, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen. “What happened?”

He sighs and sits on the edge of the bed. “I don’t think we can have the wedding here in Hortplatz.”

I wait for the part that’s causing problems, but he seems to be done. “Okay.” Garrett looks at me. I look back. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

Those pretty brown eyes narrow again, and I resist the urge to protect my crotch. “Aren’t you listening?”

“Yes,” I assure him quickly. “You don’t think we can have the wedding here. And honestly, I agree. The logistics of getting your family here, especially if teleporting makes them sick, are too complicated. And some of them are going to want to stay for a while, so we’d need to find room…. I’m not sure the village is big enough to hold an influx of hellhounds. Plus, there’s no guarantee the weather will hold out. It would be terrible if we went through all the hassle of getting people here and planning the event, and the first blizzard of the season ruined it.” I shake my head, remembering the times that’s happened in the past. Autumn is a tricky time for any event up here. In winter, we can plan for sleds and snowshoes, but in autumn it’s harder to tell what we’ll need. Grandmother surprised us all by suggesting we wait for next summer, but Garrett and I both agree that it’s better to get married ASAP and solidify his position in the family.

Plus, he really wants to be part of the demon wedding ritual.

“We should have the wedding in England,” I suggest. “It’s far easier for my guests to teleport there than it would be for yours to travel anywhere else.”

He blinks slowly at me. “I am going to kill you.”

“Why?” I thought I washelping. I’m being reasonable and accommodating.

“You didn’t think it would be a good idea to suggest this at any time over the past month while we’ve been trying to arrange the logistics of having the wedding here?”

Oh. He might have a point. It’s probably not a good idea to say I haven’t been paying that much attention to the actual details of the wedding planning.

“I thought you wanted it here, and I want you to have what you want,” I say quickly.

He scoffs as he stands. “Nice try.” Then, just as I’m wondering if I should run, he leans in to kiss me lightly. “But at least that’s settled. You get to tell your grandmother.”

I stare after him in consternation as he strolls to the door. “You’re going to drop that and leave? I don’t even get sex to soften the blow?”

Garrett glances back over his shoulder, and the tension from before is gone. There’s a wicked gleam in his eye. “I’ll give you as many blows as you want later.”

I laugh as he leaves. That’s more like it.

CHAPTERELEVEN

Garrett

I glance hurriedlyat my phone screen before I shove it back in my pocket. I’m waiting for Asher to message me that he’s spoken to his grandmother so I can call my mother and get her started looking for a location for the wedding. I already know where I want to have it, of course, which is why I’m going to give her a very long list of requirements. She’ll feel like she’s involved and has achieved something when she comes back with the only possible place that fits, and I’ll get what I want without having to justify it to her and listen to her suggest that we look at thirty other places first.

Family is hard work.

Asher hasn’t texted, so I need to practice patience and concentrate on my task for the morning, which is introducing the half dozen five-and-six-year-olds at the school to shifters. I stick my head into Sid’s classroom, and he pauses whatever he’s saying to the older kids.

“Let’s say hi to Garrett,” he prompts, and there’s a ragged chorus of “good morning” and “hello.” I don’t bother to hide my smile. Children delight me.

“Good morning,” I say cheerfully. “Are we having a good day?”

There’s another chorus of yeses, then one boy adds, “It’s going to snow again tonight.”

I try not to show my distaste for that. Zac said the same thing at breakfast this morning, and when I asked how he could be sure—the sky is a clear, glorious blue—he just smirked and said, “You learn to tell these things up here.”

It’s not that I’m against snow—I love a good snowball fight just as much as any other hellhound—but it’s already snowed three times, and it’s only mid-October. Sure, I know it snows a lot up here and the village gets cut off and all the rest, but facing the reality of it isn’t as easy as the theory.

For starters, it’s cold.

I thought I’d actually be able to make use of my fall wardrobe, but most days, I want to skip right to the winter clothes. Maybe we can use the lure of an early ski season to attract non-demons to the village. We need some kind of hook or attraction; something to differentiate this place and diminish the big honking negative of the isolation. Maybe the snow could actually be good for something.

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