“Everyone is getting married,” he said.
“Mm-hm.”
“We should, too.”
In my mind I saw my father on the grassy hill, walking away with our child in his arms. I wrapped my arm around his back, hoping his strength would chase it away. “I thought we agreed we would. You asked, I said yes, we are all good.”
“Yes, but it was theoretical. Let’s set a date. An actual date.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, how does the sixth of June sound?”
“Ivan Kupala night? The night when everything goes crazy in Slavic pagan folklore?”
“The last day of the Werewolf Summer.” Curran grinned at me.
Every first week of June, the Pack celebrated the Werewolf Summer. They ate, they drank, they celebrated being alive, and generally had an all-around good time.
“I mean it. Marry me, Kate.”
“No preacher will marry us.”
“We don’t need a preacher. We’ll get Roman to officiate.”
“You can’t be serious, Your Furriness.”
Curran got up off his chair and knelt. Oh my God.
“Marry me.”
“What are you doing?” I ground out through clenched teeth. My face was so hot, the wedding cake fifteen feet away had to be melting.
“I’m formally proposing. The first time didn’t take.”
Kill me, somebody.
“Curran! Get up. People are looking at us.”
“Let them look.” He smiled at me. “Marry me, Kate.”
“Okay. The last night of the Werewolf Summer it is.”
He got up, leaned to me, and brushed a kiss on my lips. I kissed him back and heard clapping. The bride and groom had stopped dancing and Eduardo was clapping. Someone else clapped from the left. Andrea. Screw you, too.
I smiled and gave them a little wave. “I’m so mad at you right now.”
“Don’t be mad. Here, I’ll bring you more tea.”
He laughed, took my glass, and went to the table to refill it.
We would get married. We would have a child. I would love it more than anything I had ever loved in this world, and then my father would take my baby from me.
No. It wasn’t happening. I had to find a way to beat him. What the hell was I going to do? How do you kill the unkillable?
Bahir approached the table. “May I sit down?”
“Of course.”
He sat on the right. “I wanted to thank you once again.”
“No need. How is it going with Eduardo?”
Bahir smiled. “Some fences take time to mend. He is angry with me for leaving him. He’s angry with his mother for not telling him any of it. Eduardo was always a sensitive, gentle child.”
I tried to reconcile a six-foot-four werebuffalo gouging the giantess’s eye with the “sensitive child” and failed. “Mm-hm.”
“I understand his stepfather wasn’t the most understanding parent. But I’m not losing hope.”
Curran had refilled the glasses and was walking back to us. I loved him so much. I loved his eyes, the way he looked at me, the way he walked, the way he made me crazy . . .
Sometimes, when the power of your enemy is too great, the only thing you can do is contain it.
“Bahir,” I said quietly. “You told me before the fight that if I ever needed anything, you would help me.”
“Yes.”
“Does that offer still stand?”
“Of course.”
“After the wedding, when things calm down, I would like us to meet. I want you to tell me everything you know about that box.”