Chapter Thirty-eight

RILEY

A year later, on Christmas Eve

Chief Inquisitor Riley King killed the engine of his black sedan and sighed as he picked up a bouquet of vervain flowers, briar shrubs, and a handful of sorry-I’m-late-for-Christmas-Eve-dinner-Mom from the passenger seat.

Then he switched the bouquet to his other arm and picked up a second bouquet made of holly, sage, and sorry-I’m-late-for-Christmas-Eve-dinner-my-beloved-wife.

He locked his car and crossed the street toward Chiron Manor, his mother’s house, noting the usual number of violations to the Conformism Act of 1792 as he walked up the driveway. He really would have to give his mom a pep talk about it one day or another. But for now, Riley filed the thought away as a New Year’s resolution.

He was about to ring the bell when the door flew open, and Mila threw her arms around him, lacing her fingers behind his neck.

For a moment, he wondered how she’d known he had arrived, but soon got distracted by her soft body pressed against his hard one.

Mila smiled, and without uttering a word, she told him. “I could hear your grumpy commentary up the driveway from a mile away.”

Before he could respond, she pulled him in for a kiss like she did whenever he got home at night.

With both his hands busy holding flowers, Riley had to resort to other means of hugging his wife.

He called to his magic and bent the icy winter air to his will, turning it into a pair of warm aerial hands, which he employed to cup his wife’s very shapely behind.

Mila laughed against his mouth and pulled back. “Oh, naughty, Inquisitor King.”

Riley shrugged. “What can I say? I missed you, Bennet.”

She flashed him a sultry grin before taking the bouquets from his arms. “I missed you, too. Come on, let’s go inside.”

They entered the house, the scent of cinnamon and pine immediately hitting Riley’s nose. Mila led him into the dining room where his mother had already prepared two glass vases filled with water to hold the flowers.

That was the thing about having a powerful seer for a mother and a powerful witch for a wife. They didn’t let you get away with anything.

Riley chuckled as he took a seat at the dining table. The table was decorated with a red and green tablecloth with matching napkins, plates, and silverware. A large centerpiece made of pine cones, holly leaves, and candles sat in the middle of the table. And this year, instead of the usual three plates, the table was set for five, Mila and her familiar being the latest additions to the family dinner.

Mila’s talking cat, Abel—or Abby, as he detested to be called by Riley—was a feisty little ball of fur with a lot of opinions. And while he and Riley would probably never be BFFs, they shared their love and support for Mila, which made their cohabitation bearable.

And at least the cat was Myron’s new favorite target at all family celebrations, shifting the raccoon’s petty attention away from Riley.

Glenda came in from the kitchen, holding the traditional crisped turkey in her hands. She dropped the roasted bird in the center of the table and then turned to Riley, kissing him on the cheek.

“Mom.” He pulled her into a side hug. “Sorry I’m late.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Work again?”

Riley braced himself, mentally preparing himself for Glenda’s reprimands.

“Don’t be too hard on your mom,” Mila mentally chided him from the other side of the table, sporting a mock-serious frown. “She means well.”

Riley didn’t have time to respond before Glenda, right on script, sighed and shook her head while she started cutting the turkey. “You work too much, Riley. You should spend more time with your beautiful wife.” His mom turned to Mila now. “Maybe he should join you in the private sector. You could work together.”

In the past year, Mila had gone back to being a Magical PI and opened her own agency.

“And let me guess.” Riley smiled charmingly. “Start making as many witchlings as possible.”

Mila hid her smirk behind a cup of moonlight mead and, mischievous eyes fixed on him, teased him silently. “Hey, I don’t mind the witchlings-making activity one bit, Inquisitor King.”

Mila knew that using his formal title drove him mad with desire, and she did it whenever they were in public and she was safe from the consequences.

“Oh, I don’t mind the consequences either,” she shot back. “In fact, I’m wearing an early Christmas present for you, my love.”

She shot him a mental image of herself staring in the mirror while wearing a red lace lingerie set.

Riley’s eyes bugged. “You’re wearing that right now?”

“Yep, and I can’t wait to get home and for you to unwrap me, Inquisitor King.”

Riley let out a frustrated groan in his head, and Mila burst out laughing.

Glenda paused her carving of the turkey and studied them. “Are you teasing each other again over that mental bond of yours?”

Riley and Mila lowered their gazes guiltily.

“Well,” Glenda continued. “I say less flirting and more doing ’cause I want grandwitchlings and—”

“I’m not getting any younger,” Riley, Mila, Myron, and Abel all finished the sentence for Glenda in chorus.

Which made all of them burst out laughing, Glenda included.

As the last of the laughter died down, Glenda served them, and they began to eat the Christmas feast.

A sense of profound contentment washed over Riley as he ate the savory turkey and sipped the moonlight mead. He was surrounded by the people he loved, and there was no place he’d rather be. When he looked at Mila, the twinkle in her eyes told him she felt the same way.

He couldn’t believe that merely a year ago he hadn’t known her, that they’d been strangers, and that—

“You were about to stun me with your big gun?” she interrupted, through the mental bond.

“For the millionth time, I didn’t stun you.”

“No, right, you were happy just scooping me up from the tub and admiring my gorgeous naked body and loooong mermaid hair.”

“Yes, but that was before you started talking.” Riley grinned.

Mila rolled her eyes playfully.

Riley admired his wife with unabashed adoration for a few long seconds. “But seriously, Bennet, you’re the best gift I could’ve ever asked for.”

Her eyes got so big.

“Are you swooning over there, Bennet?”

“Just a little.”

“Good, because I, too, can’t wait to go home and unwrap you,” he shot down the bond and then winked at his wife.