Special

SPECIAL

Z ane and Esme stiffen at the sound of the front door opening, and I hurry back to the foyer to waylay whoever stopped by.

Relief fills me, though, when Haut’s broad figure steps inside, looking way too delicious in his sheriff’s outfit.

Makes me want to get arrested all over again.

Moss-green eyes meet mine, filled with amusement. “Behave, bad puppy.”

As if that has ever worked. I take a running leap at him, trusting him to catch me. I’m rewarded when his arms come around my waist, and he tucks me against his muscular body.

I tip back his hat and press our noses together. “Hello. ”

He squeezes my ass. “Hello.”

I nibble on his scruffy jaw. “You’re early.”

“Tris begged me for a ride home.” He walks farther into the house, leaving the door open. “He’s getting soft.”

I lay a finger over Haut’s sculpted lips. “Shh, don’t mock his six-pack. He’s sensitive.”

“Hey, you’re the one who was worried about ice on the hill.” Tris opens the screen door and comes inside. “ Brr . It feels like we’ll get snow soon.”

Clinging to Haut like a monkey, I prop my chin on his shoulder to give my bestie a lusty leer. His scrubs do such wonderful things for his lean form, and the bright pink hoodie he wears over the top matches the pink in his cheeks.

He sweeps a hand over his sandy-blond hair as he strides over to join us. He plants a quick kiss on my lips, then dances back when Haut tries to elbow him.

A pleased grin spreads over my face. In the past, Haut would have done more than that if Tris tried to kiss me while I was in Haut’s arms, but the two men settled their animosity during our adventures in Silver Hollow.

Golden-brown eyes twinkling, Tris shrugs out of his sweatshirt. “We stopped at the bookstore to pick you up, but you were already gone.”

“I walked home.” Alarm shoots through me, and I straighten to slap my hands on Haut’s cheeks, drawing his focus to me. “You didn’t run into Aspen, did you?”

One dark-brown eyebrow pops up. “Why? Did something happen between you two?”

I study his blank expression and decide not to spill the beans yet. Need to butter him up first. “Nope. Everything’s good.”

More footsteps cross the porch, and the screen door creaks open, Owen holding it to allow Ambros to come inside the house first.

My pulse quickens as I drink in the sight of my vampire lover in his tight black outfit.

Today, he wears his long auburn hair pulled back in a French braid that starts at his forehead and flows down the center of his head in a plait. Thick lashes frame his blue-green eyes, and his classical features resemble a carving of a Greek god.

When he smiles, flashing his small fangs, I swoon.

Owen comes in last and closes the door behind himself, blocking out the chill of winter.

Unlike the others, he doesn’t wear an obvious uniform, but an air of power emanates from him, and when his eyes meet mine, red flashes in his irises.

While the moon madness curse was cured by the spell we performed in Silver Hollow, Owen has remained a werewolf, and every so often, the monster peeks out to send little shivers down my spine.

Four sexy mates. How did I get so lucky?

It’s rare for them all to come home together, though…

I remove Haut’s sheriff’s hat, freeing his chestnut brown hair to slip over his forehead. Turning it so the star faces forward, I plop it onto my head, making myself the one with the authority in the house.

“Much as seeing you all fills me with happiness, why are you all home? Is something wrong? Wait!” I slap my hand over Haut’s mouth. “Don’t tell me. I don’t care. Let me live in ignorance.”

“Relax, sparky.” Tris snatches the hat from my head and puts it on. “Everything is quiet in these darn hills.”

Ambros sniffs the air and unzips his tactical vest, revealing a skintight black shirt beneath. “Something smells delicious. ”

Tris lifts his wrist to his nose and makes a show of inhaling. “Oh, you flirt. Just say you want a bite.”

Ambros chuckles as he strides past, plucking the hat off Tris’s head and tossing it onto the coat rack. “If you want me to nibble on you, you’ll have to ask nicely.”

“Promises, promises.” Tris chases after him. “You’re all talk, but no snacky, snacky.”

“Ros is right. Something does smell good.” Owen shrugs out of his jacket and hangs it up. “Rowe, you didn’t have a hand in it, did you?”

“Rude!” I kick my heels against Haut’s firm ass. “To the kitchen, my trusty steed!”

He mouths at my throat, sending a shiver through me. “How about dessert first?”

I groan and tilt my head to the side to give him better access. “I do have a sweet tooth.”

“Oh, this bread looks amazing,” Tris says loud enough to carry. “Can we cut into it for an appetizer?”

I shove Haut’s face away from me. “Don’t you dare!”

“This crust is so crackly.” The clatter of silverware follows the sound of a drawer opening. “Owen, get the high-quality butter. Not that easy-spread stuff Haut likes. ”

“No, no, no.” I wiggle to escape Haut’s hold, thudding to the ground.

Undeterred, I scramble to my feet and race into the kitchen. “Hands off the goods!”

Laughter fills the air, and I spot Tris leaning against the counter, far away from the homemade loaf.

He holds his hand out to Ros. “Told you so.”

“So you did.” Ros makes a show of pulling out his wallet and depositing a single dollar into Tris’s palm.

My head whips from side to side. “What’s going on?”

Tris tucks his winnings into his pocket. “I bet Ros that you would choose fresh bread over sex.”

Ros grimaces. “I misjudged Haut’s allure.”

“I’d choose bread over any of you! It’s special. ” I throw my hands up in exasperation. “Do you have any idea how often I get sex?”

“Yes,” Owen says dryly. “And I’m choosing not to be offended by your word choice.”

“Ouch.” Tris presses a hand over his heart. “That hurts, sparky.”

“Work harder on your stamina.” Haut saunters over to the stove to sniff at the bubbling stew. “What ingredients went into making this? ”

“Um, well, there were steaks in the basement freezer, and Zane gathered some herbs from the garden…” Esme appears unsure of herself. “I hope we didn’t overstep.”

“Oh, that was Owen’s raw meat diet. But he doesn’t need it anymore,” I assure her. “Haut’s the primary chef in the house, so he’s interested in your recipe, not criticizing you. He sounds interrogative until he takes off the uniform.”

She slumps with relief, and she and Haut put their heads together as she explains her process.

They lose my interest at the word braising , and I leave them to it.

Across the room, Ambros and Zane exchange awkward nods.

The atmosphere between them is still tense, seeing as Zane was Ros’s subordinate before he left town the first time after he accused Ros of messing everything up with the huntsmen when he took over after his father’s imprisonment.

Owen pulls vegetables out of the fridge. “How about a salad to go with dinner?”

“Great idea.” I hop over to the counter and reach for one of the chopping knives in the block. “I can help with that.”

Owen intercepts my hand with a shake of his head. “No, Rowe, we want salad, not mangled leaves.”

Tris opens the upper cabinets. “How about you and I set the table?”

“Fine.” I accept the stack of plates he hands me and place them in front of the dining chairs.

As I do, I peek back at Ambros and Zane, who stand in uneasy silence.

It was so hard on Ros to realize his dad was evil. He put everything into the huntsmen, only to discover that his father had imprisoned his own sister, Delilah, for falling in love with a wolf shifter.

Not to mention the whole issue of kidnapping witches for the Sunlight Project and killing innocent people because his father was blinded by the feud between wolf shifters and vampires.

Ambros had done his best to disband the organization and placed judgment back into the hands of the paranormal council, who were trained for that kind of thing. The council had taken his father prisoner, too, after I’d stripped him of his super vampire powers so he could no longer turn into hundreds of bats.

Now, here we are, hiding fugitives from that very council.

Talk about full circle .

Owen brings over the utensils. “Everything okay?”

“Yep!” I force a smile under the philosophy of fake it until it’s real. “I’m plotting how much bread I can put in my stomach.”

“Just don’t eat so much that you puke.” Owen’s expression says he doesn’t believe that I’ll stop in time, but he won’t push.

Tris and Ambros finish the salad, and Zane slices up the bread. Then Haut helps Esme ladle stew into bowls and bring them to the table.

We all sit down, the mouthwatering aroma of Esme and Zane’s efforts wafting around us.

Haut blows on a spoonful and takes a taste. “These flavors are fantastic, Esme.”

A blush pinkens her cheeks, and she stares down at her plate. “Thank you.”

While we eat, they talk about their days, and everything sounds as quiet as Tris claimed, which comes as a relief.

Eventually, though, the topic shifts toward my day, which is completely unnecessary.

Tris turns to me. “So, sparky, how’s the digitization going?”

I busy myself buttering my thick slice of bread, which is still warm. “We’ve officially named it Grim Project.”

Zane frowns in confusion. “From the fairy tales?”

I frown back at him. “No, from the grimoires we’re digitizing.”

He pokes at his salad. “Might be confusing.”

I don’t like that he has a point. “Only witches will search for it.”

“A lot more people research the Grimm Fairy Tales. The site will be found right away.” Smug, Zane pops his fork into his mouth.

I wave my knife at him. “ This is why I divorced you.”

He glares. “Pretty sure I divorced you .”

Tris takes my flailing butter knife and turns to Esme. “Don’t worry, it was a marriage of circumstance and only lasted for a couple days while Rowe was in the hospital.”

Ros’s fangs flash. “Can we change the subject, please?”

“Yes.” Haut’s attention fixes on me like a predator circling prey. “Tell us more about your day, Rowe. Any other exciting news to share about the project? ”

Alarm bells go off. “Well…”

He sets down his spoon. “Go on.”

“I fired Aspen, but Mel backed me, so you know it was for a valid reason,” I rush out. “So there’s no reason for you to ever speak to Aspen again.”

Haut smirks. “Too late.”

“But you said you didn’t see him!”

“He texted me.” Haut shrugs. “We’re all going to sit down and have an adult conversation.”

“Traitor!” I throw my slice of buttered bread at him.

He catches it with ease, the dexterous bastard.

“No!” Horror fills me as I realize my mistake. “Give it back!”

“Finders keepers.” He folds it in half and dunks it into his stew before taking a large bite and groaning. “Oh, you’re right . This is special.”

Frustrated that my breadless status is my own doing, I glance at Tris’s buttery slice.

He moves it to the other side of his plate, out of reach. “I love you, sparky, but I will stab you with my fork if you put one dainty digit on my bread.”

“You’re dead to me,” I hiss.

“I’m willing to accept my fate.” His tongue skims his bottom lip. “This bread’s too special . ”

I jab a finger into his arm. “You will stop getting along with Haut this instant.”

“No can do.” Tris flutters his lashes at Haut. “The bromance is too strong.”

Grinning, Haut stuffs the last crust of my bread into his mouth.

“Here, you can share mine.” Owen nudges the rest of his slice over to me.

“Kiss ass,” Tris coughs.

I kick him under the table and croon at Owen. “You’re my favorite.”

That earns me a smile from him and an offended gasp from Tris, which I ignore, still stinging from the knife he plunged into my back when he sided with Haut.

When I cast a hopeful glance toward Ros, he points at the crumbs on his plate. “Sorry. I always eat the best first.”

I take a bite and groan before turning to Zane with heart eyes. “Marry me again.”

“No.” With a besotted expression, he wraps an arm around Esme. “I bake for only one woman.”

“So gross.” I take another bite. “But also so delicious.”

“How did you two meet?” Owen pushes aside his empty dishes. “It’s been a week since your arrival. I think it’s time you both give us a full explanation of why you’re hiding from the paranormal council.”

The room falls silent, tension hanging thick in the air as we wait for their response.