Nothing moved apart from the TV. I stepped into the room, walking around the couch and stopping to smile. Besottedly, if the look on Quentin’s face was anything to go by. He could cope. I had just come from my bachelorette party, and if I wanted to take a moment to be soppy, that was my prerogative.
Tybalt was asleep, slumped against the armrest. The reason he hadn’t stretched out was easy to see: Raj was taking up the rest of the couch, head in his uncle’s lap. It was a beautifully domestic moment, and I would have been tempted to take a picture if not for the fact that neither of them was wearing a human disguise. The stripes in Tybalt’s hair were visible, black against the darker brown, as were the sharp points of his ears. Raj’s hair was long enough that his ears were hidden. Nothing, however, could hide the black ticking on his otherwise russet hair, a color pattern that doesn’t naturally occur in anything except for Abyssinian cats.
I took a moment to stand there and appreciate the two of them, my Cait Sidhe boys, both comfortable enough to go to sleep in my house and stay that way through the sound of the door opening. It was no mystery how they’d gotten in: Cait Sidhe have access to the Shadow Roads, one of the hidden routes through Faerie, and the wards were designed to let the two of them through. It wouldn’t make sense to lock my fiancé, or my squire’s best friend, out in the cold.
Finally, I walked to the couch, knelt, and touched Tybalt’s hand, releasing the illusion that made me look human at the same time. The scent of it perfumed the air around me. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” I said. “Don’t make me kiss you in front of the boys. I’d never hear the end of it.”
Tybalt opened his eyes and smiled. My chest seemed to get tighter and lighter at the same time. It wasn’t a strange sensation anymore. I felt that way every time he smiled at me like that, like I was some sort of miracle.
“October,” he said, voice still hazy with sleep. “If you do not wish to kiss me in front of our charges, I’m afraid our wedding will be a dull affair.” He paused, smile fading into a puzzled frown. “What in the world is that thing on your head?”
“Party hat,” I said, reaching up and whisking the offending veil away. “Blame May.”
“A sentence with merit in almost all situations,” he agreed. He sat up, stretching languidly, before shaking Raj brusquely by the shoulder. “Up, kitten. It’s time for napping somewhere that is not atop your King.”
Raj made a grumpy noise, and didn’t move.
“Awaken, Prince of Cats, or suffer the consequences.”
Raj made a grumpier noise, and didn’t move.
“Alas, you did not heed my warnings, and now you must pay,” said Tybalt, before reaching over and hauling me into his lap, a gesture which planted my butt atop Raj’s head.
That was enough to wake Raj. He squawked in startled disapproval and sat up, leaving me to drop the final few inches into Tybalt’s lap, where I fit comfortably. It was a position I had a lot of practice with.
“You sat on me!” Raj protested. His hair was ruffled, sticking up in all directions.
It was all I could do not to laugh as Tybalt slid an arm around my waist, looked serenely at Raj, and said, “No, she did not. I placed her atop you, when you refused to wake and move. This is why you should listen to your betters.”
“I’m a Prince of Cats,” said Raj.
“And I am a King, and she is my consort. You see? There are two people in this room who are better than you. Go and torment Quentin, if you wish to match wits with an equal.”
“I heard that,” said Quentin from the doorway.
“I intended that you should,” said Tybalt, without rancor.
Raj glowered at us both before running a hand through his hair to smooth it and hopping over the back of the couch. A few seconds later, I heard him talking to Quentin in the hall, voice pitched low enough that I couldn’t tell what he was saying. Their footsteps moved down the hall.
“At last,” said Tybalt. “We’re alone.” With that, he leaned in, and kissed me.
Kissing Tybalt is an activity I used to fantasize about, back when repression and denial were my only bedfellows. These days, it’s something I get to do, and reality has never disappointed. He kissed me slow and languid, like he was in no hurry, like there was nothing in the world he would rather be doing. I knew that wasn’t entirely true—there were plenty of things he liked to do with me that didn’t involve kissing, largely because our mouths were otherwise occupied—but that sort of focus was undeniably exciting. I shifted in his lap, pulling myself closer, easing my arms around him, until we were necking on my living room couch like a pair of teenagers.
That was nice, too, and definitely a point in favor of my increased alcohol tolerance. In the old days, I would either have passed out already, or be nursing my third cup of coffee as I attempted to combat the impending hangover. Instead, I was awake, alert, and raring to go.
Tybalt was smiling when he broke away, leaning forward just enough to rest his forehead against mine. “I take it the party went well?” he asked.
“The Luidaeg showed up.”
He blinked. “That raises more questions than it answers, I think.”
“She sang. It was possibly the weirdest thing I have ever seen. But she was pretty good. It was fun. I wish you could have been there.”
“The entire point of the bachelorette party is for the bride-to-be to get out and explore the nightlife without her betrothed on her arm. My presence would have confused the issue. Besides, I have no doubt your lovely Lady Fetch would have demanded I sing also, and I had no desire to make a public spectacle of myself.” He settled back into the cushions, smiling at me languidly. “Well, then, bride-to-be? Did you find yourself a finer suitor during your night of freedom? Am I to be cast aside, never again to know the safe haven of your arms?”
“You’re a nerd,” I said, and swatted him in the arm. “You seemed all cool and mysterious back when I was afraid of you, but I’m not afraid of you anymore, and I can see clearly that you are a nerd.”
“I never denied it,” he said, and leaned in to kiss me again.
The doorbell rang. We both froze.
The doorbell ringing isn’t that unusual. In addition to serving as a knight errant and hero of the realm, I still work as a mortal P.I., handling cheating spouses, small thefts, and the occasional custody dispute. Since I don’t have an office, my clients come to the house, and people who want to hire a private investigator aren’t usually bound by normal business hours. I’ve had human clients show up as late as one o’clock in the morning. Fae are largely nocturnal and have been known to show up at two or three, apologizing for the proximity to dawn, but fully expecting me to be awake.
The trouble was the time. It was after four. That’s late for anything short of a Kingdom-wide emergency, and if it had been a Kingdom-wide emergency, someone would have called.
“Let May handle it,” said Tybalt, hands moving to encircle my waist. “The hour is late. You need your rest.”
“This isn’t my definition of ‘rest,’ exactly,” I said, and leaned in for another kiss.