Page 64 of Her Purr-fect Christmas Mate

She rolled on top of him and cupped his face in her hands. “If you hadn’t wanted the Hypatia, you might not ever have found me. But maybe . . . maybe you would still have been happier, if you weren’t paring everything out of your life that wasn’t your revenge on the Hypatia board, but . . .”

He tried to imagine it. A version of himself that hadn’t fashioned itself into an arrow of vengeance . . . but who’d never met Peony. “Not worth it.”

The sounds of cheerful greetings and Christmas carols filtered through from the rest of the house. Peony dropped her chin onto his chest. “Three . . . two . . . one . . .”

Someone hammered on the floor from the ceiling below. “WAKE UP, SLEEPYHEAD!”

“My brother.” She dragged the blankets up over her head. “He’ll go after Iris next. Then he’ll release his greatest weapon, the kids. We should definitely have clothes on by then.”

He glanced at the bookshelves. “We could barricade the door?”

“I tried that last year. He tossed them up on the roof to come through the window.”

Mordecai couldn’t help the slow grin that spread across his face. “Christmas with your family is fun, isn’t it?”

Amber-brown eyes found his, green sparkling in their depths. “Yeah. Come on. Race you downstairs?”

The house was alive with activity, despite the fact that it was still dark. Peony’s nephews were rampaging at Iris’s door, held back by Elaine, her arms firmly folded but her eyes sparkling with humor. As they passed, she knelt down and dared them in a stage whisper to see if they could jump on their dad and scare him into shifting. They scurried off, and Elaine shot Mordecai and Peony a conspiratorial glance.

“That should buy us a few minutes,” Elaine called to Iris, back in the bedroom.

“But at what cost?” Iris called back.

Peony laughed and grabbed his hand. “Kitchen first. Dad’s doing pancakes.”

He wondered how she knew—then caught the smell of baking as they headed down the staircase. Julius was holding fort at the stove, fending off thieving hands.

And paws. Andhooves.

Julius wielded his spatula like a sword. “Out! All of you!”

*But we need our strength to go present-hunting!*

*Have some respect for your elders. Or pity. Whichever gets us our food first.*

“Begone!”

“Since this is your first Christmas with us, I won’t make you fend for yourself.” Peony started forward, then paused and flexed her fingers experimentally. “Actually . . . hold my clothes?”

“Your what?”

She shifted, and her cat form flashed over to where Julius was defending the oven against his in-laws. She leapt, grabbed two pancakes in her mouth, and made it another foot across the counter before she stumbled over the trailing pancakes and went flying.

Everyone stopped. The doe with shining horns and angel wings that Mordecai guessed was Peony’s grandmother, and the milky-feathered raven perched on her antlers that must be her grandfather, stared with wide eyes.

“Peony?” Julius asked. And then:

*Is that our little Peony?*

*Come here! Let me see you!*

Her cat jumped back to its feet, tail puffed up. It wavered for a moment, then picked up the pancakes again and ran.

Her grandparents raced after her. Mordecai was left alone in the kitchen with Julius, who was staring after his fleeing daughter with a stunned, happy expression.

“She’s adjusting all right?” he asked.

Mordecai bundled up the clothes that had fallen to the floor when Peony shifted, then considered. “Better than I would have expected.”

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