As night set in, the fairies were replaced by fireflies in the garden, and strings of lights draped around the trees and the rotunda came on creating a dream-like setting for a gathering that had mellowed with wine and full stomach. The family moved to huddle around the fire pit on the seats, prodding sticks into the embers lazily, and talking of loved ones not present.
Raiden decided it was time to go and began to lead Lia around them to say farewell. “Lia has dance school in the morning,” he explained to his mother when they reached her.
“Of course. So, Lia,” Diedre kissed her cheeks warmly. “We shall see you the same time next week.”
“Oh,” Lia was astonished by the invitation, the assumption, and the inclusion. “Thank you.”
“And you, Stormy,” she patted Raiden’s arse. “Keep a close eye on her.”
“Stormy?” Lia looked up at him, a smile tugging at her lips.
He flushed under her gaze and shrugged.
“Raiden is named after the god of thunder,” his sister, Tara, who had arrived late to the party, but had made up for her absence quickly with her enthusiasm and energy, provided mischievously as she kissed Lia’s cheeks. “Tara means star. Ethan just means strong, which I guess he had to be to be sandwiched between us.”
“Thanks, mum,” Raiden grumbled.
“My name means blind,” Lia offered him with a laugh. “Which I’ve always found that funny because…” She realized what she had been about to say and caught herself. She had almost been about to say that her name was funny because as a witch, she had the gift of sight. She had been so close to revealing herself, she thought with shock. “Well, obviously, it’s an odd thing to name your seeing child,” she finished lamely.
“I have always enjoyed the meanings behind names,” Diedre said warmly, not seeming to notice the pause. “But, despite my offspring’s theories, I did not name my children according to the meaning of their names. I just liked the names, and they were the only ones Wade and I could agree upon.”
Lia wondered why her mother had named her Cecelia and what the discussion between her parents had been around it. Was it just funny that she had been named blind when she had the gift of sight, or was it significant? Her grandmother had always been so paranoid, so frightened of what they were. Could her mother have wished Cecelia born free of her heritage? Could she have wished her child to be blind of the Other world?
Would Cecelia wish the same for her child? She looked up at Raiden thoughtfully. Raiden was a modern man, but he was also a proud werewolf. The grimoire had outlined the werewolf mating ritual and Lia had spent the afternoon teetering between denial and the slowly dawning realization that Raiden was courting her.
And that she was considering it.
If she did, her children would be werewolf. They would not have the option to turn a blind eye to the Other world as they would be firmly rooted in it. Did she want that, for herself, and for her children? Was it better to be definitely Other rather than suspended in between, like herself?
Raiden led them through the gate onto his property. “I have to grab something from inside,” he said, guiding her towards the back door. There was a keypad to unlock it, and he didn’t try to hide the code as he entered it. She averted her gaze out of politeness.
The lights came on as they entered.
The back door opened into an open planned area that stretched the entire length of the house, with a generous kitchen central. To the left of the kitchen was a seating area with tan leather couches gathered around a fireplace, and to the right a heavy wooden table set around with comfortable looking seats.
The kitchen was glossy and new, and the bench tops some type of silken stone. It was spacious, elegant, expensive, and gorgeous. The werewolf had planned his home carefully and with attention to detail, and great taste.
“It’s beautiful,” she told him.
He beamed, proud and pleased by her approval. “It’s home.”
She followed him into a wide hallway that had been very tastefully decorated in neutrals. There was a sense to the rooms they passed that they were waiting, she thought. They had been beautifully finished, but there was a lack of homely touches, as if Raiden had prepared a canvas for a life yet to be lived. “It must suck to be staying in a half-renovated house when this is home.” There was another lounge to the front, a study, and a powder room.
“Not really,” he said lightly. “I guess I’m used to it. I spend more time in the houses I renovate, then here, to be honest. It is my home, but it isn’t really a home, until there’s a family in it. It’s a big space for me to rattle around in alone.”
He went up the stairs. The stair handrail was a glossy dark wood that invited her touch, over white balusters. The stairs echoed the colors, with the step dark wood, and the riser white. “It’s a bit dusty,” he apologised. “I haven’t been home much.”
At the top of the stairs, there was another bathroom, and three doors. He opened the first. “Bedroom with en suite and own lounge,” he told her, then opened the second door. “Same this side. And,” he opened the door directly before them. “Master bedroom.”
This room occupied the entire front of the house, with a massive bed against one wall, and French doors that opened onto Juliet balconies. There was a fireplace against the wall near the bed, and a couch set at its foot, facing a giant TV. Two doors against this wall lead into to a massive walk-in-robe, over half empty, and large en suite which looked barely used.
“Perhaps,” he hesitated in the door to the en suite, his hand resting on the doorframe, his casual pose betrayed by the tension in his shoulders. “You will come back here, next weekend?”
“Alright,” she saw him relax at her casual acceptance and felt a surge of affection for the werewolf – her answer had been important to him, a commitment, she thought, for a future date and a continuance of their relationship. She sat on the couch and looked around her feeling a little like Alice must have felt, arriving in Wonderland the first time. This could be her home, she thought in bafflement. This could be her life.
“What is your school schedule?” He asked as he filled a toiletry bag with items from the vanity.
“My schedule?” She repeated blankly, and then focused. “Umm. Monday is ten until two, Tuesday eight until one, Wednesdays twelve until six, and Thursdays are nine until three. We have Fridays off.”
“Alright. Send me that,” he said moving into the walk-in-robe. “How do you get to and from school?”
“Bus,” she admitted. “Paris and I have our licenses, but the car in the garage won’t start…”
“Does Brock know?” He wondered folding clothing into a backpack. “He is a mechanic by trade.”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Paris only started seeing him, like…”
“Last week,” he supplied.
“Yes.” Was it so short a time? But then, here she was, with Raiden, two nights after meeting him, and he felt like the most vivid and vital part of her life.
“During the week, then, I’ll get him to take a look.”
“Raiden…” She was bewildered by how fast things were moving. “Paris’ relationships don’t tend to last more than a week.”
He laughed, seeming genuinely amused. “Don’t worry, Lia, this one will.”
“Once a male has decided upon a mate, he is not easily dissuaded from the object of his affection,” she murmured to herself.
“What was that?” He leaned back so he could look at her around the walk-in-robe door frame, frowning.
“Nothing,” she said hastily. Keen hearing. She knew that about werewolves and Others in general.
He finished stuffing clothing into his bag, and added the toiletry bag into the remaining space, dropping the bag onto the couch beside her whilst he fought the zip. “All done.”
For what, exactly, she was not sure. He had packed for more than overnight. He had packed as if he intended not to leave for several days and, if she was honest with herself, she didn’t want him to leave. “Alright,” she stood.
He caught her by the hip and pulled her up against him, kissing her with fierce heat, and barely restrained desire. “My family like you,” he broke off the kiss, having rendered her breathless and molten with need.
She dug her fingers into his hair and pulled his mouth back to hers, as she used the grip of her leg around his hips to lift, so that both legs were wrapped around him. His hands closed on her arse, and he groaned, deepening the kiss until she was sure that his tongue had explored every inch of her mouth. He stepped up onto the couch, and she felt the mattress against her back as he lowered her down, his body coming to rest heavy over her.
“Lia,” he said against her cheek. “We should take you back home. I would like to stay tonight,” he said. As if he had not already planned to do so, and packed to do so, she thought, amused.
“Yes,” she wanted his skin against hers.
“Lia,” he was fighting, his hips pushing against hers in a way that made her want to strip the clothing from between them. “Let’s go.”
He pulled free abruptly, breathing heavily, rolling to his feet, and visibly straining against his fly.
She looked up at him and laughed, dropping her arm over her eyes. “I don’t know what it is about you Raiden,” she admitted. “But it’s like I’m on… heat or something, ever since Friday.”
He chuckled and reached down for her hand, pulling her to her feet. “Yeah?” He said lightly, with a rising inflection as he framed her face with his hands. “Well, you’re not alone, there, Lia.” He grazed his lips over hers and then drew her hand down to feel the hardness of him through his jeans. “See? Let’s go back to your house before I get too carried away.”
“You won’t get carried away at my house?” She wondered as they left the bedroom and he turned off the light.
He flashed her a grin and a shrug. “Can’t promise that.”