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“Mmm,” I hum playfully, but also because he’s still underestimating how slowly things get processed.

“Think of it this way: they’ll already have liked you for a while, so they’ll be excited to hear the news. Even if they don’t totally get what it means. And we’re not telling them about the Blood Fever part,” I ramble on, even though I know he doesn’t need any more convincing. We’re definitely in agreement on that. “Whereas, when I meet your mom, I have one shot to make a good impression.”

I don’t think he’s listening, though, the hundredth time I’ve said that just melds with all the previous times. Hell, I’m tired of hearing me say it. His gaze goes distant and his eyebrows narrow. For a moment I wonder if he’s staring at the stove, trying to figure out if he turned it down enough or not.

“Should we... be doing... the human equivalent?” he asks slowly, like he’s not sure he’s expressing himself right.

The human equivalent, of what, a mating bond? I don’t think there is one. But I watch the distant expression on his face, like he’s realizing he’s forgotten something important.

I stare at him a few moments blankly before I realize what he means. I bolt up in his lap and put my nose to his.

He stares back at me, and after a moment, takes off his glasses because I am fogging them up.

“What?”

“You fucked up, just now.”

He lifts an eyebrow, rubbing the corner of his t-shirt on the lens. “Did I?”

A maniacal grin spreads across my face. I kiss his neck and repeat gleefully, “You. Fucked. Up.”

“I don’t do this to you when you don’t know about Orcish things,” he points out. He’s right, but unlike him, I enjoy annoying the people I love.

“And I don’t make you order your own needlessly complicated coffee when we go across the street,” I counter.

“No one needs to be as extroverted as those baristas,” he sighs.

“They’re not gonna bite,” I roll my eyes, and drag my teeth along his jawline for effect. And for me.

He shifts in his seat, moving me with him. He props his head up in his hand, elbow on his knee as he looks at me. “So what’d I do wrong?”

I wriggle my way into a more comfortable position, laying out across the couch, my head in his lap. I can barely contain how evil this makes me feel. I’m going to show him videos of flash mobs and over the top public proposals. “First, the asking the question part is like, half of the whole thing. It’s a big deal. I’m not even supposed to know you’re gonna ask me.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you don’t know if I’m going to say yes or no.”

Khent scoffs, because that part is clearly ridiculous to him. “You’re my mate. Why would you say no?”

“Secondly–”

“There’s more?”

“SECONDLY,” I push on, extra determined now, “Some people make as big a deal about it as the actual ceremony.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. They get fancy about it. Some people wait until they’re in front of everybody they know, and then get everyone’s attention on them. And then they ask the question, not knowing how it’s going to turn out,” I whisper, like I’m telling a campfire story.

I’m quick to pull my phone from my pocket, and start searching videos of public proposals gone wrong. I scroll for a moment, looking for a particularly awful one that Lily had sent me a while back.

I glance back at Khent when I can’t find it, and realize he’s gone stone-still, and deeply quiet.

“Babe?”

This big guy who can’t make his way through a coffee order without apologizing four times, and won’t make eye contact with strangers unless he absolutely has to, looks like he’s actually considering everything I just teased him with.

It looks like it takes him every effort to ask, “And... that’s something you want?”


Tags: Kate Prior Paranormal