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I snapped my mouth closed. Compliments from Meemaw were too precious to lose on a technicality.
“Your boy toy is in the square,” Meemaw said. “Make sure to thank him properly for his help tonight.”
Margie fanned herself. “If she doesn’t, I will.”
I bit back a smile. “Thank you for your help, ladies. You should probably go home and get some rest.”
I returned to the bonfire to clean up its remnants. I wanted all traces of Keith gone by sunrise.
“There you are.” Vale entered my field of vision. The handle of a sword peeked over his shoulder. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. You?”
“Not a scratch, although I can’t say the same for some of your Neighbors.”
Alarm bells clanged. “What happened?”
“Some of your witch friends tangled up a few of Keith’s werewolves in Christmas lights. One of them thought it would be amusing to turn them on. They were the multicolored lights, not the white ones, in case you were curious.”
“Where on earth did they find…” I shook my head. “You know what? Never mind.”
The demigod glanced at what remained of the bonfire. “I heard Keith didn’t make it.”
I shook my head. “I tried to give him a chance to save himself. He didn’t take it.”
Vale’s expression turned grim. “They rarely do.”
“He hurt Harriet.”
“She told me. She insists she’s fine, though.”
A gentle breeze blew past us, rustling the ends of his hair. Even in relative darkness, there was no mistaking that those broad shoulders and chiseled jawline belonged to a demigod.
“Thank you for coming to my aid. Rohan appreciates Gondor’s generous assistance.”
He gazed down at me, no longer grim but still deadly serious. “I’m not here for Rohan. I’m here for you, Maya August.”
All my emotions rushed to the forefront. “And Maya August appreciates Vale’s assistance.”
When he leaned forward, I didn’t have the will to stop him. The kiss started gently at first—barely there. A careful press of lips, testing. It was warm and inviting, like a roaring fire on a chilly evening. He exhaled against my mouth, and the sound undid me.
The next kiss felt like coming home.
I tilted my head, deepening the experience. No longer cautious but still unhurried. Reverent rather than desperate. Numerous restrained touches poured into a single point of contact. His thumb traced small, absent circles at my hip. My hand slid to the back of his neck, holding him there as if afraid he might disappear.
Because if he knew the truth about me, he very well might.
With great reluctance, I pulled back.
“That was intense,” I said.
The ends of his mouth twitched in amusement. “Are we talking about this or the whole night?”
“Both?”
He studied my face. “I thought you said we can’t do this.”
“You said the same thing.”
