Page 17 of Cathmoir’s Sons (Bad Boys of Bevington #5)

Chapter 17

The Ash Flower’s Garden

LAW

M y mate is back in my arms. Willingly. Even in her unawakened state.

If I knew I’d get to hold my mate, I’d have volunteered for this field trip to Hell instead of being conscripted by my brother. His mind suddenly opened to me, even though we’re both in our skin, yanking me off Kimberly Cavalo-Darling’s trail and to Las Vegas , if my nose didn’t betray me. Las Vegas to Hell is an easy leap under any circumstances, but Luca made the slide between planes as effortless as stepping into Faery.

I haven’t been to Hell before; even holding my mate is not enough of an inducement to come back. My guts have turned to liquid and are sloshing uncomfortably. My balance is off; I feel drunk even though my mind is clear. The stink of the outside Hellscape is nearly unbearable, although once we get inside the demon’s towering home, Ash Hill, the smell dissipates.

When the demon ushers us through a flaming, circular gate into a garden, the outside reek is replaced by the sweeter smell of jasmine and a ripe fruit I have no name for.

The sky outside was cloudy but bright, split by streaks of lightning. The sky over the garden, above the circling wall that must be thirty feet high, is dark, cloudless, and lit by three moons. The garden is huge, much bigger than the tower it’s ostensibly inside of, laid out with glimmering, crushed shell paths, green lawns, beds of flowers that gleam like crystal, arbors entwined with flowering jasmine, and rows of trees, heavy with darkly gleaming fruit.

Kellan walks through the garden as though she knows where she’s going. The demon peels off to the right and waves us onward.

In the center of the garden, there’s a large, circular pond, edged by a translucent white wall the height of a bench. A heavily pregnant woman, sitting on the wall, jumps up when she sees us. Kellan greets her warmly and they clasp each other for a long hug, the woman’s diaphanous gown fluttering around Kellan in a breeze I don’t feel.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get more time to catch up at Carrie’s singing-off,” Kellan says to the woman.

The woman waves that away and pulls Kellan to the edge of the pond. They sit together on the low wall while Luca and I look at each other uncertainly.

“I’m still in shock,” the woman says.

On second look, she might not be a woman. Small, spiral horns poke up out her waist-length, mahogany hair. Her horns are almost hidden under strands of gold and winking gems, but they’re definitely horns. Her smile reveals fangs smaller than the demon’s but they look sharper than mine. Her gown floats and shifts over her slender body and swollen belly in a way that fabric doesn’t move, responding to shifts and eddies in the air that I don’t feel.

Whatever she is, she’s not a mortal witch.

“I know,” Kellan commiserates. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”

“The singing-off was beautiful. I’m so glad you and Jane invited me. It’s the first I’ve been to since ... well, since everything.”

Kellan nods as though she understands completely. “It was very special to have you and Jou’s sisters there. You didn’t want to come to the memorial service? You and the three cutest babies in Hell would have been welcome.”

The demoness shakes her head. “It’s too strange to be at Bevington now that I’m—” She waves a black-clawed hand at her body vaguely. “And Jou is acting crazier than usual when it comes to me being in crowds.”

She lifts her voice so it carries. A deep, demonic snort answers from the fruit trees behind us.

Kellan turns her head to pin me with a bright glare. “I know how that goes.” She waves Luca and me closer. “Zee, may I present the princes of the Cait Sidhe, Lucas and Lawson? Luca, Law, this is Tsara Faa D’Asmodei, Baroness Ash.”

The demoness rises to her feet and holds out her hand. Luca shakes first and I follow.

“Please call me Tsara,” the demoness says, pronouncing her name “Zara,” although I have no doubt of the royal root.

I bow to her. “I’ve heard you called the Once and Future Queen by a Squire of Ivywhile.”

She flashes her white fangs in a broad grin. “That was you. I should say thank you. I’ve learned in the years since that the Cait watched over me for a long time, keeping unfriendly eyes away when I was still coming into my power. But I’ve also found out that you turned the poor Squire’s horse pink. Pink . His beautiful horse. So no, I won’t say thank you. You’re a bad man.”

I grin back at her. “That I am.”

She folds her arms over the high mound of her belly. “You’re just like Jou: utterly unrepentant.”

“I resemble that remark,” the demon says, emerging from the trees carrying a long, obsidian trencher piled with fruit. He sets it down on the edge of the pond and sweeps his mate into his arms. He kisses her, flicking a long, red tongue over her lips before he lets her go. He rubs a taloned hand over her belly. “How are my babies?”

“The same as they were an hour ago when you left,” Tsara says tartly. “How are my babies?”

The demon grimaces. “Fine.”

“You know I can smell it when you lie,” Tsara points out.

“There may have been a summoning,” Jou admits. “A small one.”

Kellan, sitting on the edge of the pond with her legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, chortles.

“Demigod? Eldritch horror? Hound of freaking Tindalos?” Tsara asks, her tone sharp.

“It did have four legs. And a tail. And some tentacles,” the demon admits.

“Jou!” Tsara plants her fists on her hips. “Go get them. How many times have I said she’s a bad influence? She is a bad influence ! Who thought it was a good idea to make a damn mindflayer their godmother? She should not be teaching them to summon things from outside Space-Time before puberty. And please tell me Kartcher isn’t with them? I swear I can smell him.”

“Eh.” Jou equivocates. “It’s fine. They’re all fine. Fire’s mostly out. They’re probably flame-proof anyway. They’ve given it a name. It only tried to eat them once. They’re having a sleepover.”

“No, absolutely not. I want Ash Hill to still be standing by morning.”

Jou waves vaguely. “I think I have somewhere to be. Very, uh, pressing baronish business. Enjoy the fruit.”

He disappears in a poof of fire and the stink of brimstone.

“Jou!”

“Can’t hear you,” the air answers in the demon’s deep voice.

“Yes, you can! Tell Cyz I want the babies back by their bedtime. And that is not their bedtime on Golacher the way she argued last time. I mean it!”

“Yes, honey.” A finger of fire runs down the demoness’ cheek in a warm stroke.

Tsara rolls her eyes and sits down next to Kellan. “He’s impossible.”

Kellan arches an eyebrow at me. “I know how that is.”

I hold up my hands innocently.

Kellan crooks a finger at Luca. “Zee, Luca’s magic is antithetical to his father’s. He’s hoping that the technique you used to bind the Wild Hunt in your bones might help him bear his dad’s power.”

The demoness picks up the tray of fruit and waves her hands over it. The fruit shifts to more familiar shapes. Bananas, apples, grapes, mangoes. Tsara hands a rosy apple to Kellan who bites into it with a crunch. She offers the tray to me and Luca. I take a handful of grapes to be polite but I don’t really want to throw any more challenges at my stomach today.

Once Luca’s taken an apple, the demoness puts the tray aside and gestures to the wall. Kellan hops up and Luca takes her spot.

The demoness offers Luca her hands and when he takes them, rests their joined hands on her knee.

“I can sense Air,” she says. “I’m an Air-witch, too. I’m going to lower my mental shields and pull you into my mindscape so you can see the bindings. I think you’ll see how you could either bind what hurts you or craft a shield against it from what you’ll see in me, but I’ll warn you, I died binding the Wild Hunt.”

“It wasn’t permanent, though,” Kellan points out around another bite of the apple.

I take a step to slide behind my mate. Cautiously, I rest my hands on her shoulders.

She doesn’t object. She finishes her apple in three bites, watching my twin and the demoness.

I step up close, so she can rest her weight against me. When she doesn’t snap at me or move away, I slide my arms around her, resting one hand on her belly. There’s nothing to feel yet. I Googled it—and bought an entire library of pregnancy and baby-development books—and our baby is the size of a pinhead. But I feel close to both Kellan and our kit this way.

Under my palm, the muscles of her stomach feel rigid. They don’t relax under the heat of my hand, so she’s not tensing them. I rub my palm over the tightness and she sighs.

“Is your stomach off? You seem to be handling this better than Luca or me,” I whisper into her hair so as not to disturb my twin.

“I’ve got more experience Plane-Walking,” she says. “I’m PMS-ing. With my luck, it’ll start on Monday when I have my first class. You would not believe how sore my breasts are. Sorry, that’s too much information.”

“Would you like me to rub your breasts?” I offer. “I’m happy to.”

She snorts and bats my hand before it wanders. “I bet. And no, touch my boobs at your peril.”

“I would take the risk if it brought you relief,” I say silkily.

Kellan snorts again but doesn’t say anything. She also doesn’t push away. Her warm weight rests against my chest and abs, the sweetest burden. She fits perfectly in my arms, with my hand cupped gently over her belly.

When her menses don’t come next week, the game will be up. Caileán warned me that her unawakened self would not take the news well, but surely she won’t go back to ignoring me when she discovers we’re going to be parents?

I don’t think I can bear that, not with the small strides we’ve made. I have to keep moving forward.

I brush aside her hair with the tip of my nose until I find the curve of her delicately pointed ear. I plant a soft kiss on it and whisper, “I love you.”

“Still pissed off at you, Law,” she whispers back.

But she doesn’t move away.

“I know. And I’m sorry for the way I hurt you. I can’t say I’d make different decisions if I had it to do again but I will always regret your heartache and the loss of your trust.”

She sighs. “Still pissed off.”

“I know.”

She’s silent for a moment, watching Luca and Tsara. Then she whispers, “I love you, too. Being angry and hurt and everything else I’ve felt since I found out you’d been lying to me and pretending to be my cat—it hasn’t made me feel any less for you. Despite how utterly furious I am at you, I still love you. I don’t want you to think those feelings are gone.”

I press tiny kisses to the curve of her ear and inhale until I catch a hint of the musk and floral scent of my mate’s hair.

“I’m relieved to hear I haven’t made you hate me. That would be beyond bearing. But I would like to correct one thing you said. I never pretended to be your cat. I am your cat. I will always be your cat. I’ve never felt more loved than when you kiss my toe beans. I miss everything about you, but my toe beans are pining.”

Kellan snorts so loudly she has to cover her mouth with her hand. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m very serious about my toe beans’ despair.”

“If you swear to stay in your fur, I might be persuaded to let you in tonight.”

“And will there be toe bean kisses?”

I can’t see her face but I can tell she’s rolling her eyes from her little huff. “Could be.”

“I promise to stay in my fur tonight. Will you go straight to Jane Serpa’s from here?”

Kellan nods. “Via Pandora’s Box.”

“Mmm, could I persuade you to make a detour if there’s nothing pressing in Bevington?”

“There’s not. Jane’s with Teddy and her family this afternoon and some of the senior staff tonight. What’s the detour?” she asks.

“Did you like Scilla?”

“The town? I loved it.”

“Could I tempt you back there tonight? Dad’s approved a new den in the hills above the town. I scouted it with Struan and my cousins last week. It’s ideal. If all went according to plan today, our lawyer closed on the villa that will be our base while we buy up land and build our den. I thought you might like to see it? And maybe revisit that restaurant with the good swordfish? There’s an offer I’d like to make to the old human who runs it.”

She turns in my arms, resting her palms on my chest and looking up at me. “You bought a villa in Italy?”

I nod. “I bought you a villa in Italy. As long as you like it. If you don’t like this one, maybe you’ll like one of the ones we’re going to build. I wanted to give this to you as a mating gift. I realize you’re unlikely to accept that now, but I still want you to have a house in Scilla you can retreat to when things at Bevington become overwhelming.”

Her lower lip trembles. “You bought me a villa in Italy?”

I lean in and rub my cheeks against her, gently scent-marking her. “I’ll buy you a villa in every country in the world if it makes you happy, Kellan.”

“I don’t—” She shakes her head. “I don’t need a house in every country. But I would love a place in Scilla where we could go.”

I smile at the “we” but don’t comment on it. “Struan doesn’t intend to leave Thistlemist, but he was smitten with Scilla, too. I think he plans to take one of the houses in the den as a vacation home.”

“If Struan and Orlaith come, Teddy and her guys and Rachel and Evan will follow. You can count on it. I hope you’re okay with them joining us.”

“I’m more than okay with it. I’ll offer ... or have Luca offer when he joins you at dinner on Sunday.”

“How’d you know about that? Were you at Carrie’s memorial?”

Not for that part. I was delivering some well-deserved vengeance to a stuffy snake shifter. Here’s hoping the scratches get infected.

“It was the first thing I found in Luca’s mind when he pulled me to Pandora’s Box. He’s extremely flattered to be invited.”

I let my wretchedness at not being invited go unspoken. I’ve already resolved to call in every single favor Luca owes me to go in his place.

Kellan purses her lips at me. “Do you want to come?”

I channel every sad cat face I’ve ever made at being denied treats, pets, toe-bean kisses. “If I wouldn’t embarrass you in front of such illustrious company.”

I avoid batting my lashes at her but it’s a near thing.

Kellan laughs softly. “Pathetic attempt, Law. Of course you can come. And for the record, the only time you’ve ever embarrassed me was with your jealous fits. Those need to stop.”

“Male Cait in the mating frenzy are extremely territorial,” I say.

“Talking about yourself in the third person doesn’t excuse your tantrum, Law.”

I work hard to keep a straight face. She’s bantering with me, standing in the circle of my arms, so close I can feel the warmth of her breath on my jaw. It’s fainter here in Hell, but I would know my mate’s warmth anywhere.

I haven’t been this happy since I saw Caileán waiting for us naked at the gates of Ceòfuar. I love every aspect of my mate. Awakened, unawakened, I cherish every facet of her. While Caileán’s appearances have kept me from falling into despondency, I’ve missed Kellan with my whole soul.

“I’ll make every attempt to stop peeing in your shoes.”

Her eyes narrow.

“Is it pee?” she asks.

“It contains pee.”

“Gross. Seriously, Law, gross. Find another way to mark your territory. No pee. No tantrums.”

“How do you feel about scarification?” I ask.

“Even less good than I feel about pee in my shoes if it’s going to result in a permanent mark that says something deranged like ‘property of Law’.”

“Property of Cait?” I suggest.

“Big no.”

“A small symbol that means ‘property of Cait.’ In Caitish. Very subtly.”

Kellan rolls her eyes and turns her back to me. My breath catches in my chest, waiting for her to move away. I’ll respect her boundaries, somehow.

She leans back against me, catches my wrist and draws my hand back to her belly.

With a contented sigh, I shift so my chest and abs take her weight. I rub a gentle circle over her soft stomach.

“Draw it for me,” she says. “I’ll think about it.”

I close my eyes in bliss and bury my face in her soft hair.