Page 121 of Tricked By Jack
“So, what now?” Eve asks, turning to me. “If you’re not a Knight in practice, what are you?”
“Still figuring that out,” I admit, meeting her gaze. “As long as I’m your husband, I don’t really care.”
Leaning closer, she lowers her voice. “Is this because of the curse?”
I’m not sure I believe in the Knight family curse, or superstition, anymore. But that doesn’t mean I want to jinx it by saying that out loud.
“It’s because I want to discover what life’s like with you,” I rasp. “Away from all of this.”
A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, something sharp and knowing in her eyes. “Well, if it was because of the curse, I was going to say you could take my last name and become Jack Mortis,” she quips. “It has a certain ring to it, don’t you think?”
Carolina chokes on her water, laughter sputtering past her surprise. “God, Eve,” she gasps, reaching for her napkin. “Warn a girl before you say things like that.”
None of us point out that a change in last name didn’t save Ruby. She died a Simmons, not a Knight. But… maybe it’ll be enough since I’ve already died once. That means, Nick is the only one of us that never did. The last Knight standing by that logic.
Nick rolls his eyes, but I catch the twitch of his lips. “I like it.”
“Me too,” Eve laughs, the banter coming easier now, her shoulders relaxing by degrees.
I watch her, something warm unfurling in my chest at this glimpse of the woman beneath the wounds. For this moment, in this room, with our family, she’s safe. The scars are still there—visible on her cheek, hidden beneath her sweater—but they don’t define her.
Not here. Not now. Not fucking ever.
“You’d take her name?” Carolina asks me, with genuine curiosity in her tone. “Like, for real?”
I consider the question, rolling the idea around like wine on my tongue. “Knight, Mortis… what matters is who I am to her,” I say finally, my eyes never leaving Eve’s face. “Everything else is just paperwork.”
Something shifts in Eve’s expression, a softening around the edges that makes my heart stutter in my chest. She doesn’t speak, but her hand finds mine under the table, fingers intertwining with silent understanding.
Talk drifts to mundane topics—Willow’s sleeping habits, Carolina’s plans for the east garden, Nick’s latest acquisition. The details of family life don’t thrill me, and when I look at my beautiful wife, I’m relieved to see I’m not the only one looking bored.
When Willow stirs, fussing in her bassinet, Carolina lifts her with practiced ease. The baby blinks up at us, dark eyes curious, tiny fingers flexing in the candlelight. Eve leans forward, her smile softening as Willow grasps her offered finger.
“Cute,” Eve murmurs, though she sounds more polite than sincere.
“Want to hold her?” Carolina’s already rising from her seat.
Eve hesitates, uncertainty flickering across her face. “I don’t know if I should—”
“You won’t break her,” Carolina assures, placing Willow carefully in Eve’s arms before she can protest further.
I watch my wife cradle my niece. Eve’s hands, capable of both healing and harm, are now gentle against Willow’s delicate form. The baby settles against her chest, trusting in a way that only the innocent can be.
“She likes you,” Nick observes, the pride in his voice unmistakable.
Eve doesn’t respond, her attention wholly captured by the child in her arms. But I see the way her jaw flexes, like she’s waiting for the right time to give Willow back to her parents.
“So, I actually have an idea,” Carolina interjects, smirking as she looks at Eve. “Because if tonight’s taught me anything, it’s that this kind of life would bore the both of you to death.”
“Are you going to tell them now?” Nick asks, straightening in his chair.
She grins wickedly. “Not a chance,” she sing-songs. “Let’s wait until after the Sanctuary closes. There are only four days left until Halloween.”
Later, when dinner is done and Willow’s in her nursery, we linger at the table. The ease thins as the talk turns to the best way to get rid of Shelby. Though my sister-in-law makes it clear she prefers killing to be done off the premises, she graciously offers to waive the rule this once.
My cock hardens as Eve looks at me, and when she shoots me a chilling smile, I stand abruptly, quickly pulling my wife with me and positioning her in front of me to hide my growing arousal.
“Time for bed,” I rasp, my lips near the shell of her ear.
