Please let it be the decade.
I turned out the last of the lights and drew the last of the curtains before retreating to my room. The house was blissfully quiet. The air smelled like fresh-baked cookies, a combination of burnt sugar and chocolate that would linger for hours yet. Jazz had gone to bed shortly after one o’clock in the morning, pleading the fact that she was diurnal. May had gone to join her at dawn.
Now it was my turn. I shut my bedroom door and started toward the bed, unbuttoning my jeans as I walked. It was rare for me to be the only person awake in the house. I reveled in the feeling.
The smell of pennyroyal and musk cut through the scent of cookies, telling me that I wasn’t alone after all. That was all the warning I got before Tybalt’s hands grasped my waist, turning me to face him. I saw him smile, and then he was pulling me close and kissing me so fiercely that it was like we hadn’t seen each other in weeks. It had only been hours, but I wasn’t complaining. I slid my hands up his chest and linked them behind his neck, not hesitating as I kissed him back. A purr reverberated through his body, vibrating my skin and reinforcing the feeling that this, just this, was proof that I was finally home.
If someone had told me right after I stumbled out of the pond that I’d eventually fall in love again, I might have believed them. After all, the heart is a hardy organ: it heals, it moves on. If that same someone had added “with the asshole King of Cats,” I would have laughed until I threw up, and then probably started punching people. Tybalt wasn’t my friend back then, much less a potential lover. He was a bastard and a bully who took too much joy in tormenting me for me to even consider the possibility that one day I’d start keeping company with him.
It’s funny what time can do. Bit by bit, I’d come to realize that Tybalt’s barbs were less about cruelty and more about keeping me at arm’s length, where I couldn’t hurt him—something I’d never imagined I could do until I was doing it. We’d traded a few kisses almost accidentally, and then, with no real fanfare or warning, we’d been in love. Me, the changeling street rat, and him, the handsome Cait Sidhe monarch. Maybe it shouldn’t have worked, but it did, and it had become one of the rocks I put my trust in. The sun rose; the tide turned; Tybalt loved me.
He slid his hands down to cup my ass, pulling my feet off the floor. I responded by kicking my feet up and wrapping my legs around his waist, making it easier for him to carry me to the bed. There was an aggravated yowl as one of the cats protested. I didn’t look to see which one it was. I was distracted by Tybalt’s hand in my hair and Tybalt’s lips on my throat, and then I didn’t pay attention to anything but him for a little while. Who could blame me?
One major advantage to living in the Victorian, rather than my old two-bedroom apartment: much thicker walls, and much less chance of someone wandering in to see what all the fuss was about.
Afterward, naked and sweaty and pleasantly loose in that way that followed strenuous exercise, I stretched and rested my head against Tybalt’s chest, closing my eyes. He was purring again. I couldn’t think of a more comforting sound.
“I take it you missed me, little fish,” he said, playing his fingers through my tangled hair.
“Excuse me?” I rolled over, opening my eyes and squinting at him. “Who jumped who here? I ask not because I’m complaining, but because I think it’s important we keep the sequence of events as clear as possible.”
He chuckled. “Ah, but you see, had you not missed me, you wouldn’t have responded so ardently to what could have been merely a simple hello. I kiss you quite often. Most of the time, you’re capable of kissing me back without dislodging your undergarments in the process.”
“You waited until I was taking my pants off!”
“An accident of timing.” He waved a hand, dismissing my protest. “There’s no need to be ashamed. Were I fortunate enough to be engaged to me, I would take every opportunity to get me to bed.”
“You are such a cat sometimes.” I yawned, snuggling down and closing my eyes again. “Did you have a good night at Court?”
“I did. Nothing of much interest happened, which is always the ideal; better a night where my people are free to make their own entertainment than a night where I must race from place to place, extinguishing fires and praying we’ll live to see the morning. Alazne is finally able to hold her human form for more than an hour at a time. Opal and Gabriel are very proud, and hope you’ll be able to come and visit soon.”
“I’d like that.”
“And you? Was your night a welter of teenage vexations and not enough quiet? I saw the kitchen when I first got home. The fridge appears to have been attacked by wild beasts.”
I couldn’t suppress the thrill that went through me when Tybalt referred to reaching the house as getting home. Eyes still closed, I said, “Oh, the kids were great. They showed Dean The Little Mermaid. I’m expecting Dianda to call it a declaration of war and slaughter us all in our sleep. Arden came by, dragged me back to Muir Woods, and used me to get Walther to go ahead and wake Madden up before the High King got here. Only just before—he’s in the Mists now, he’s holding a conclave next week to discuss how they’re going to distribute the elf-shot cure, and—oh yeah, right—I’m expected to attend. Are you going to be there? I know it’s going to involve the neighboring Kings and Queens, but I’m not sure what involvement the Cait Sidhe would have with something like this.”
Tybalt was silent. Seconds stretched out like taffy until I opened my eyes, disturbed by the sudden weight of the air. I rolled over and sat up in the same motion, gathering the sheets up around my collarbone as I turned to look at him.
He was worth looking at, under any circumstances. Most fae are either beautiful by human standards or completely alien and inhuman, covered in leaves or feathers or spines. Tybalt managed to straddle the line between the two. His face was lovely; his body was better. But his pupils were cat-slit narrow, against irises the banded color of malachite, and there were black tabby stripes in the brown of his hair. When he was distracted or distressed, as he was now, more stripes appeared on his skin. They were visible as I faced him, curving up the sides of his ribs and wrapping around his arms.
“Tybalt?” I said.
“If the conclave is to be held next week, it’s reasonable that no invitation has yet been sent to us; perhaps one was always intended and perhaps not. Now that I’m aware a conclave is to occur at all, I must attend, or take it as an insult from a Court that has often been far too willing to dismiss us,” he said. He sat up, reaching out to cup the curve of my cheek with his hand. “I love you. You know that, yes?”
I blinked. “Okay, now you’re worrying me. Of course I know that you love me.”
“Good.” He leaned in and kissed me, sweet and slow. Only the tension in his hand betrayed the fact that all was not well, that this wasn’t just some sweet gesture motivated by affection. Something was really wrong.
Because of that, I was already braced when he pulled back and said, “I have to go.”
“Why?” The question came out harsher than I’d intended. I didn’t try to take it back or temper it. I knew I had to share him with his Court, but Oberon’s teeth, I’d already done that today. He was supposed to be with me for at least a night before he left again.
“Because my Court will need to be told that so many monarchs of the Divided are coming to our territory; because you are a daughter of the Divided Courts, and until I know whether they intend to shun us or curry our favor, I mustn’t seem to have already been pacified. I must seem aloof. Because I need to prepare myself to walk among Kings and Queens who stand too much on ceremony as their equal.” His smile was brief and wry. “I am their equal, of course; I am a King. But they’ll look for any excuse to say that I’m less than they are.”