Page 154 of Defy the Fae

My lady makes a comforted noise. I watch her profile slacken with memories and excitement, her eyes brightening as she turns to me. “This is where we grew up.”

Juniper expels a breath. “Home.”

Lark squeals. “About damn time.”

Slats creak as Thorne strides up the steps, then pauses and turns halfway. A welcoming grin rumples his voice. “Well?”

Well, what?

I shuffle back and hear my brothers do the same. The words teeter on my tongue. Any one of us is about to wish our loves a festive reunion before we leave them to their evening.

The sisters step forward. When they notice we’re not following them, they halt and swing toward us.

A grin shimmies through Lark’s voice. “You three stragglers planning on standing guard? Or are you just stalling to watch our asses bounce up the stairs?”

Cerulean wavers. “We thought you’d want some time.”

“In your house,” Puck says.

“Alone,” I finish.

The women object, speaking over each other when Thorne cuts in. “That’s not how our family does it.”

Family. Our family.

The term flows deeply through my chest.

My expression must match those of my brothers. And all three must stretch across our faces because Lark takes Cerulean’s hand, Juniper loops her arm through Puck’s, and Cove snakes her arm around my waist.

“Isn’t that a picture.” Their father’s voice muses, and he rubs his hands together. “Now, then. Would you care to stay for dinner?”

The invitation produces an unrecognizable lump, which squats in my throat.

Puck smirks. “Fuck.”

Thorne sighs, and I feel his eyes slide heavenward. “Language, son.”

The latter word rinses the humor from Puck’s tenor. It takes him a long moment to utter, “Sounds like a merry plan.”

After a stunned pause, Cerulean’s whisper stirs the grass. “We’d like that.”

I swallow and incline my head.

The raptors shift to their normal size, launch into the air, and sail toward the sanctuary out back, content to wait for us from there.

As both pairs trail the man through the door, I lift Cove’s hand and brush my mouth across her knuckles.

My lady smiles. “Welcome to my world.”

And we follow them inside.

Epilogue

Glade

The Thirteenth Year

Under the vicious stars, a stripling is born. And well into her first year, she has already grown defiant.

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