Erwan stood to her left. She’d never seen him in a suit before. Strangely, the navy double-breasted jacket and tailored pants suited him. He stood tall and proudly, his smile unwavering.
Bono stared straight ahead, his cream linen jacket making a striking contrast against his dark skin. When she caught his eye, he winked.
Lann looked indifferent, as usual, but he’d offered her a priceless gift—an antique handwritten book on the magic of firestarting from his private collection. The Russian had chosen a pinstriped suit and open-neck shirt for the occasion, looking like a walking advertisement for a men’s fashion magazine with his hair braided down his back.
Clelia’s gaze jumped to Maya. Blue organza crossed over her breasts and tied at her waist. Horizontal layers formed a body-hugging skirt. With one hip cocked, her stance was one of sexual allure. Clelia couldn’t help the thought that formed in her mind. It was a harmless thought, with no real damage intended, so the flame that set the hem of the blue dress alight was a small one. It scorched the fabric only minimally, just enough to ruin the creation.
Jumping, Maya raised her skirt, but the flames were already dead.
“Clelia,” Cain said, “what is your answer?”
As she turned back to Cain, Joss’s fingers brushed over hers. “I do.”
“Do you swear not to use your art, except for the good of mankind?”
Joss traced her knuckles with a finger. The touch held both a gentle and heated promise.
“I do,” she said again, a little breathless.
Cain smiled. “Welcome to our team.”
He kissed her cheek, and then she was surrounded by everyone who wanted to congratulate her.
Joss was last. He hugged her tight, whispering in her ear, “I’m proud of you.”
Her heart warmed. She parted her lips to tell him he’d always be her family when a rivulet of cold liquid ran down her spine. Gasping, she arched her back.
“What’s wrong?” Joss asked.
She searched the room. Maya stood next to the drinks table, her hand hovering over a jug of water.
“Need to cool down?” Maya asked with a wink.
“You won’t,” Clelia said.
“Maya,” Cain said. “Remember your oath.”
Maya pouted. “She started it.” She took a glass of champagne from the table and lifted it to Clelia. “To mixed breeds.”
Clelia smiled.
She’d found her place in the world.
She’d found her love. It was no longer one-sided. She was no longer a spectator, looking through a window.
She belonged.
~ THE END ~