Happy. A year ago she wasn’t sure she knew what the word meant.
Sure, in a lot of ways the last year had been hard. Aside from all the other challenges she and Dragos had faced, she still wasn’t completely accepted by the Wyr community, and while the peanut had gone a long way to softening everybody’s heart, criticism about her unrevealed Wyr form continued to be harsh.
Despite that, her life was pretty damn close to perfect. She had more than she had ever dreamed she could have. She had a husband and mate who adored her with a kind of ferocity that should have been scary but somehow wasn’t, and she had the most precious son imaginable. She had friends, good friends, and while they weren’t close, even Aryal had abandoned her antagonism toward Pia.
A sudden, superstitious fear chilled her skin. She was too happy.
Happiness this intense couldn’t last. Something was bound to happen.
As soon as she had the thought, she clenched her fists and shoved it away. So what if something happened? Something always happened. When it did, she and Dragos would face it as a team, just like they had everything else over the past year. They could handle anything life gave them as long as they were together.
She could handle anything, except for losing either Dragos or Liam.
Angry at herself for letting baseless fear ruin her happy mood, she dragged a brush through her hair one last time, slipped a few things into a small silver purse with a chain-link strap and left the bedroom.
As she walked down the hall, she heard high-pitched baby squeals. In the living room, Dragos tossed Liam into the air and caught him. Liam was giggling so hard his face was almost purple. Nearby, Hugh and Eva lounged on couches, their faces creased with laughter as they watched the pair.
Pia started chuckling too. Liam’s paroxysm of delight was simply too infectious to resist. As she walked into the living room, she said, “If it were anybody else doing that…”
Dragos threw Liam into the air again. “I won’t let him fall.”
“I know you won’t.”
Dragos had dressed in a black silk polo shirt and cream slacks. His clothes were expensive, simple and lethally effective, as they highlighted the power and grace of his muscled body. While he wasn’t much for wearing jewelry, he never took his wedding ring off. He also loved the gold Rolex she had bought him for Christmas, and both it and the braided length of her hair gleamed brightly against his dark copper skin. As he caught the baby one last time and turned to her, she saw that he had shaved as well.
He had made an effort to look nice for her. The knowledge curled into the pit of her stomach and intensified the tug of attraction she always felt for him. She watched him look down her body. When he met her gaze, sultry heat shimmered in his gold eyes.
“I’m hungry,” he said, and she knew again he wasn’t talking about dinner.
She had to clear her throat. Her voice was huskier than ever as she replied, “Me too.”
“Shall we go?”
She nodded and walked over to kiss Liam. Dragos handed the baby to Hugh, and they left.
The heat of the day had begun to ease, and heavy yellow light slanted through the lush greenery as they walked to the Mercedes. She noticed how cleverly the area had been designed to maximize the privacy of the houses, with rows of hedges bordering narrow road. Dragos opened the passenger door for her, and she climbed into the warm car.
He slid into the driver’s seat a moment later. As he turned to her, she asked, “How far away is this beachside—”
The rest of her question disappeared in a squeak as, eyes glittering, he yanked her to him. He took her mouth in a hard, hot kiss.
Her skin flashed with the heat from his mouth, his hands, and her pulse exploded. Melting against him, she kissed him back as hungrily as he kissed her. His pulse raced to meet hers as he slanted his lips over and over on her, driving deep into her mouth with his tongue.
When he finally lifted his head, they were both shaking. He stroked the disheveled hair away from her face and helped her to ease back into her seat.
“I didn’t put a comb in my purse,” she said.
“Leave it,” he told her, very low.
Laughter shook out of her. “I can’t just leave it and walk into public like this. It looks like we’ve been making out.”
One of his black brows lifted as he reached over her to pull her seat belt around her torso and click it into place. “We have.”
He was no help. He loved any and all barbaric displays of his claim on her. While he started the car, she ran unsteady fingers through the thick mass until she had the long, tangled strands smoothed out.