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That does it. He laughs again, then reaches for me.

His arms squeeze around my waist, drawing me closer to his big, hard body—and yes, I do mean hard.

I let him.

But I'm still angry.

Sort of.

I still have questions.

Lots of them.

And Dora and Wulfy are absolutely getting an earful later.

But right now Grimm is here. My Wolf is here.

And the terrible empty place I've been carrying around for weeks isn't empty anymore.

Grimm tips his head back to look at me.

His expression changes. The laughter fades.

Not completely. It just softens into something that makes my heart stumble.

“I love you, Agatha.”

Oh, well, there goes my ability to breathe again.

“You can't just slip that in after the crown conversation.”

“I've been trying to tell you.”

“Well, maybe lead with it next time.”

“I love you.”

He does. Damn it.

My eyes sting.

He reaches up and brushes his thumb beneath one before any traitorous tears can escape.

“I love your optimism. Your ridiculous collection of emergency chocolate. The way you believe people can be better than they are. The way you talk to yourself when you think no one is listening.”

My mouth falls open.

“You heard all that?”

“I was a Wolf, Princess. Not deaf.”

I freeze.

“What did you call me?”

Now the bastard smiles.

“Princess.”