Page 37 of Sequel to the Easter Bunny

“Why not just be naked?”

“Because they like to pretend they’re civilised.”

I quirk a brow, but he doesn’t elaborate.

He holds his hand out to me, and when I take it, the domain around us seems to bleed away, like a curtain of water.

The next breath I take is warm and heavy. Wet with a late summer rain….

Diyo’s domain is a veritable jungle. Everything around me is green and damp. The moss covering the ground beneath my bare feet is softer than any carpet I’ve ever felt.

“They’re going to try to entice you away from me.” Jack’s whisper in my ear is rueful.

“They’ll never manage it.”

Whiskers twitch against my cheek, a moment before his face dips down, and he presses a kiss against my neck. “I hope none of them do.”

There is a path.

Sort of.

Enormous green leaves line the narrow space Jack leads me through. Fronds hang low, brushing my skin with beads of moisture.

The air is thick and the greenery around me seems to sigh at each step.

Laughter peels overhead, and Jack turns, wrapping me up in his arms, a moment before a loud crash echoes.

“What was that?”

“Diyo’s playthings.” His grip loosens on me and I sneak a peek around him.

A woman in a goat mask, wearing nothing but vines flies through the air past us, an empty swing bobbling on its ropes at the loss of her weight, but when she tumbles to the ground, she rolls into the underbrush, disappearing.

“Ignore them.”

The “them” makes me look up.

Dozens of people in goat masks swing in the green canopy overhead.

There certainly aren’t as many of them as there were kittens, but Diyo’s menagerie is not small.

“Do they all have this many devotees at one time?”

“Some,” Jack says, “Lako will take any woman who goes to her. The same can be said for any man who goes to Minoka. I don’t understand his selection process for the women he accepts. Only that their bargains are brief, where the men he keeps seem to stay forever.”

“And our current host?”

“Diyo is picky. They only make bargains with the ones they think they could fall in love with. There are several of the others who will not take more than one supplicant at a time.”

“Would you take others?”

He stops, pulling me to a halt beside him. “You are not a devotee or supplicant. You are mine. And I am yours.”

“I apologise.” He stands a little straighter. “I need you to understand this, so that they will understand it too.”

“We’re not exactly equals, Jack. Belonging to each other isn’t going to change that.”

His jaw sets, and I can see him trying to form an argument to that. Finally, he just says, “We will be.”

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