Page 31 of The Cuddle Clause
Lucien waved that off with a flick of glittering fingers. “Youloveit.”
Then his golden eyes landed on me, and I braced myself. He approached like a man strutting to his own theme music, taking both of my hands in his and kissing the air above my knuckles.
“And this,” he said, as if narrating for the room, “must be the woman who finally convinced our Roman to stop emotionallynestingin that sad little apartment of his. Welcome toCasa Del Soulfire, my darling.”
Casa. Del. Soulfire.
I blinked.
Lucien’s smile widened. “You’reradiant.”
He spoke like there was a camera crew just out of frame, and I honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if he turned and addressed them directly. With a grand sweep of his arm, he gestured for us to sit. He ordered drinks without consulting a menu, then turned to compliment the waitress’s earrings andoffered to send her a crystal recommendation for the blockage in her throat chakra.
I had officially entered another dimension.
Lucien’s drink arrived first. It was glacial and dramatic with a slice of starfruit curling along the rim. He sipped, then leaned forward on a bejeweled fist.
“So,” he said. “How did you two lovebirds meet?”
I froze. Roman and I hadnotagreed on a story. We’d spent hours talking about what to wear, what to say if I blanked, how to survive the vibe check. But the actual “how we met” part?
We’d decided to wing it in the moment, and I was deeply regretting that now.
Roman cleared his throat. “Funny story, actually. There was a cursed book. Minor explosion. We were at a flea market. Maggie caught me in her arms…like a fireman carry.”
Lucien blinked once. Slowly. One perfectly arched brow rose like a curtain. “Hmm.”
I smiled through the panic. “He… loves flea markets,” I said. “And books. It’s honestly kind of hot.”
Then, trying to sell it, I reached over and grabbed Roman’s hand. He stiffened immediately, like I’d handed him a raccoon instead of a romantic gesture.
I leaned closer and whispered, “You good?”
He nodded quickly, ears going pink, eyes blinking like he forgot how people worked.
Lucien, of course, was already pivoting. “Maggie, darling, what is it you do?”
“Graphic design,” I said quickly, and then panicked harder. “I mean, freelance branding. Mostly supernatural clients. Sigils, ancient symbols, sexy typography, that sort of thing.” I wasn’t sure why the lie came so easily. Maybe impressing Lucien meant more to me than I let on.
Lucien gasped. “Typography iseverything.” He leaned back, swirling his drink. “I assume Roman told you about the mandatory mating policy? All eligible shifters twenty-one and older must bond for the sake of pack stability.”
I nodded. “Oh, of course. I mean, he’s practically proposed already. He just won’t let me pick the ring.”
Lucien gave me a terrifyingly sweet smile. “Charming. I’ve decided something,” he announced, clapping his massive hands together. “You two are doing karaoke.”
I was sure I’d misheard. “I’m sorry—what?”
“Karaoke,” he repeated, teeth gleaming, eyes sparkling with unholy delight. “It’s a pack tradition. Builds trust. Builds community.”
Roman, ever the voice of reason, spoke up before I could melt into the floor. “That’s not necessary, Lucien. We’re here to socialize, not perform.”
“Oh, it’s absolutely necessary. I can tell everything I need to know about a couple based on how they karaoke together. Chemistry. Coordination. Trust.” His gaze bounced between us, like he was already dissecting our weaknesses.
I opened my mouth to protest, but someone, some traitor, appeared from the shadows near the bar and flipped a switch.
Suddenly, the far corner of the room lit up. A tiny stage came to life, bathed in purple and gold spotlights that flickered dramatically. A smoke machine hissed out a puff of sugary fog. A karaoke screen blinked on, the wordsSING YOUR HEART OUTscrolling by in Comic Sans.
Lucien thrust his phone into my hands. “Pick something. I want to see the magic.”
