Page 134 of Home to the Hollow

I brush the hair out of his face. “And I you, darling boy.”

“Good,” he says. “Because that was really fucking hot and I want to do again—with her.”

A delighted laugh bubbles out of me, and I give him a playful shove. “Then let’s get out of here before we prune and your girl gets eaten by a giant bird.”

* * *

“Where is she?”I ask. “The backyard?”

Lucy nods as I swing into her driveway, whistling at the sexy ass Impala parked there. “Jolene has a hot fucking car.”

He grins. “She’s a hot fucking woman, Prez.”

He’s not wrong about that.

We hop out, tromping across the lawn to skirt around the side of the house. The scene makes my jaw drop and I give my partner a confused look as we take it in. Jolene snorts at the two of us as we hurry towards her, and my admiration for her balloons. She’s sitting on the ground with a bag of what appears to be meatballs, tossing them one by one to the harpy eagle and two attentive looking servals.

“Ahoy, boys. Good thing Euryale here likes meatballs, and the cats can somehow use doorknobs. Your rescue took longer than expected.”

Lucy turns bright red, and I shrug. If she’s going to be saucy, let’s see how she handles a return volley. “Given that I knew it wasn’t a dinosaur and Lucy here told me it’s not the first animal related scrape you’ve gotten into since moving back, I figured we could set reasonable rescue expectations.”

Her eyes narrow and before I can blink, she’s pulled some ninja move, flipping to her feet with the grace of a cat. She stalks over to me slowly, her voice measured. “What, may I ask, was so important that the towndoctorsaw fit to sacrifice my body to finish?”

“Sugarplum…”

I hold up a hand, and he stops. “Allow me, Lucy.”

I wait for Jolene to come within inches of me, sensing the irritation spiking in her aura. She’s truly brassed off, and I feel like seeing what happens if I push her over the edge. “Sometimes finishing what you started is better than leaving things undone.” I smirk when her scowl deepens. “You wouldn’t want to be left wanting, now would you, magpie?”

I’m not sure where the nickname came from, but it feels fitting.

The eagle screeches, and the cats yowl as her eyes darken. It’s clear something inside of her is pushing to get free, and when the bird makes another loud sound, I reach out to slide my hands up her arms. Lucy moves closer than well, caging her in between us. Her skin feels impossibly hot and I worry she’s going to cook herself with whatever power she has that’s trying to break free.

“Sugarplum…” Lucy whispers, trying to get her to snap out of it. Giving me a worried look, I watch as he switches on the magic his mother gave him, pressing against her to cool her with his frame.

She doesn’t answer, and I run my knuckles over her cheekbone before helping him lower her to the ground to press close. “Magpie, you’re so hot Lucy is cooling you down. I’m gonna slide these clothes off and…”

“Yours too,” she mutters.

I’m game, but I’m going to need her to be more conscious than this if it’s going any further.

“Sugarplum, I don’t think you realize,” Lucy starts. His voice is hopeful but unsure, and my heart squeezes a bit. He’s just so damned good.

Jolene laughs, the sound a throaty invitation. “My darling Wolfie. I knowexactlywhat you were doing before you arrived. Now, hush, and take what I’m offering.”

Son of a bitch.

“Hell, Lucy, don’t argue with the woman. Strip and be merry with us,” I say before he can ask again. She’s definitely conscious of what she’s doing—she usedhiswords. Whether she understands that’s what she did or not, that comment was purely directed at the Fae in him.

My darling boy complies quickly, helping me wiggle her purple tank off. While he’s murmuring to her, I strip, and then work her yoga pants over her curves. When I look up at Lucy and Jolene, the contrast between her pale skin and his golden tan is starkly beautiful. I whistle softly, and she raises her eyes to run them over me.

“What’s going through your mind, Magpie? Do I not meet your standards?”

She damn near giggles as her gaze burns over my skin. I know my tats fascinate her because she studies them with the appreciation of someone who didn’t get theirs on drunken girls’ night. No, this woman is serious about ink and steel; I can tell by the way her eyes widen at the design that wraps around my shaft. I arch a brow as I wait, and that tinkling laugh emits again.

“You’ll do.”

That makes Lucy snort, and he relaxes against her, tracing fingertips over the ink on her ribs. “Sugarplum says you’ll do, Prez. Should we show her exactly what we’ll do?”

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