Luna. Chapter 115

(Lyra's POV)

My phone buzzed while I was trying to apply concealer to the worst of Kael's handiwork.

Missing you already. - K

I smiled despite myself. He'd left an hour ago for some pack business, promising to be back before dinner.

Missing you too.

Are you covering up my marks?

I'm trying to. Some of us have to face the public.

Leave them.

Absolutely not.

I want everyone to know you're mine.

The possessiveness in his text shouldn't have made me shiver with arousal, but it did. Even through a phone screen, Kael had the ability to make me want things I shouldn't want.

Too bad. I'm not walking around looking like I was attacked by a vampire.

You weren't complaining when I was leaving them.

Heat flooded through me as I remembered exactly how I'd reacted to his mouth on my throat. The way I'd arched into him, begging for more.

That's different.

How?

That was private. This is public.

I like public displays of possession.

Well, I don't.

There was a pause before his next message.

Fine. But tonight I'm leaving them in places you can't cover up.

My hands stilled on the concealer brush. What?

You heard me.

Kael...

I want to mark every inch of you, Lyra. Make you mine in ways that can't be hidden or denied.

I dropped the phone, face burning with a combination of embarrassment and desire.

This man was going to be the death of me.

Another buzz.

Too much?

You're evil.

You love it when I'm evil.

He was right. I did love it. I loved the way he looked at me like he wanted to devour me. I loved the possessive growl in his voice when he called me his. I loved the way he made me feel desired and claimed and absolutely central to his world.

Maybe.

Definitely. I can smell your arousal from here.

You're not even here!

Memory, sweetheart. I remember exactly how you smell when you're turned on.

I pressed my thighs together, fighting the heat building low in my belly.

Stop texting me while I'm trying to look respectable.

Impossible. You're too beautiful to ignore.

Flatterer.

Truth teller. Have I mentioned I love you?

Only about fifty times since last night.

Not enough. I love you, Lyra. More than I thought possible.

My heart did that fluttery thing it always did when he said those words. After four years of silence, hearing them again felt like a miracle every single time.

I love you too.

Good. Don't forget it.

As if I could.

See you tonight. Wear something easy to remove.

KAEL.

What? I'm being practical.

I set the phone aside and finished applying concealer, though my hands were less than steady. The man had a talent for reducing me to a puddle of hormones with nothing but text messages.

By the time I made it downstairs, most of the marks were hidden. Elena looked disappointed.

"Pity. They were quite artistic."

"Elena!"

"What? I'm old, not dead. It's nice to see young people in love."

"We're not that young."

"Young enough. And definitely in love." She handed me a cup of coffee. "It's nice to see you happy, dear."

"I am happy. Scared out of my mind, but happy."

"The best kind of happiness includes a little fear. Means it matters."

That seemed to be the consensus among everyone I talked to.

I spent the morning trying to focus on pack paperwork, but my mind kept drifting to Kael. To his hands on my body, his mouth on my throat, the way he'd whispered my name like a prayer.

By lunch, I was a distracted mess.

"Mama, are you okay?" Asher asked as I put salt in his juice instead of sugar.

"I'm fine, baby. Just thinking."

"About Daddy?"

"Among other things."

"I like having a daddy."

"I'm glad."

"When is he coming home?"

Home. Asher had fully accepted Kael as part of our family unit.

"This evening."

"Can we make him dinner? Something special?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"Spaghetti! With the sauce that has the tiny meatballs."

Kael's favorite. I'd made it for him countless times when we were together before.

"That sounds perfect."

We spent the afternoon cooking together, Asher standing on a stool to help stir the sauce while I browned meatballs. The kitchen filled with the smell of garlic and herbs, and I felt myself relaxing for the first time all day.

This was what I wanted. These simple domestic moments, building a life together, creating memories as a family.

"Mama?"

"Yes, baby?"

"Are you and Daddy getting married?"

The question caught me completely off guard. I nearly dropped the wooden spoon.

"Why do you ask that?"

"Because that's what mamas and daddies do in the movies. They get married and live together and have babies."

"Real life is more complicated than movies, Asher."

"But you love each other, right?"

"Yes."

"And Daddy loves us?"

"I think so."

"Then why wouldn't you get married?"

Out of the mouths of babes. To a four-year-old, love equals marriage equals family. Simple logic.

If only adult emotions were that straightforward.

"Marriage is a big decision, sweetheart. Adults have to think about lots of things."

"Like what?"

"Like... money, and houses, and jobs, and whether two people can live together without driving each other crazy."

"Do you think Daddy would drive you crazy?"

I thought about Kael's habit of leaving his clothes wherever he took them off, his tendency to stay up all night reading when he was stressed, the way he hummed off-key in the shower.

I thought about how much I'd missed all those irritating little quirks.

"Probably," I admitted. "But in a good way."

"Then you should marry him."

"It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"Because..." I struggled for an explanation that would make sense to a child. "Because sometimes adults make mistakes, and it takes time to fix them."

"Did Daddy make a mistake?"

"We both made mistakes."

"But you fixed them?"

"We're trying to."

"Good. I want us to be a real family."

"We are a real family, Asher. Even if adults don't get married, families can look lots of different ways."

"I know. But I want the movie kind. With a mama and daddy who live in the same house and tuck me in together."

The longing in his voice broke my heart. He'd been so good about our unconventional situation, never complaining about not having a father figure until Magnus came along. But apparently he'd been thinking about it more than I realized.

"What if Daddy has to travel for work sometimes? What if he can't always be here?"

"Then he comes back. Like he did yesterday."

"And what if we disagree about things? What if we argue?"

"Then you talk it out. Like you taught me to do when I'm upset."

My four-year-old was giving me relationship advice. And it wasn't bad advice.

"You've really thought about this, haven't you?"

"I think about it lots. I want a daddy who stays. Not one who visits."

"Asher..."

"I know you're scared, Mama. You get your worried face when you talk about Daddy. But he gets worried face too when he talks about us."

"He does?"

"Uh-huh. Like he's scared we might disappear."

That insight hit me like a punch to the chest. Of course Kael was scared. He'd lost us once through his own mistakes. He was probably terrified of losing us again.

Maybe we were both so busy protecting ourselves from potential hurt that we weren't seeing the bigger picture.

"What do you think I should do?" I asked my son.

"Tell him you want him to stay forever. Use your words, like you always tell me."

Use your words. The advice I'd been giving him since he was old enough to talk.

Maybe it was time to take my own advice.

My phone buzzed with another text from Kael.

How's your day?

Good. Cooking your favorite dinner.

You don't have to do that.

I want to. Asher's idea, actually.

He's a smart kid.

He is. He asked when we're getting married.

There was a long pause before Kael's response.

What did you tell him?

That adults are complicated.

We are.

Maybe we don't have to be.

Another pause.

Are you saying what I think you're saying?

My heart pounded as I typed my response.

I'm saying maybe it's time to stop being scared and start building something real.

Lyra...

I'm saying I want you to come home. Really home. Not just for visits.

Are you sure?

No, I wasn't sure. I was terrified. But I was also tired of living in limbo.

I'm sure I love you. I'm sure Asher needs his father. I'm sure I don't want to spend another four years wondering what if.

I love you so much it physically hurts.

Then come home. Stay home.

Yes.

Just yes. Simple and definitive and everything I needed to hear.

"Did you ask Daddy to stay?" Asher asked, looking at my face.

"I did."

"What did he say?"

"He said yes."

Asher whooped and threw his arms around my waist. "We're going to be a real family!"

"We're going to try, baby. We're going to try."

For the first time in four years, trying felt like enough.