Page 69 of Eat. Prey. Love.
Felix busies himself with the spread, arranging the finger foods Chess crafted with such devotion—each piece a love letter in edible form. He pops open our scotch, his claws deftly avoiding any mishaps, then pours out the crisp Dr. Pupper into a cup for our mate with an almost reverent focus.
“Good to go,” he announces, stepping back to admire the feast laid out before us.
The moonlight catches in her rainbow-colored hair, setting it ablaze with vibrant hues. A gasp escapes her, a sound that wraps itself around my stone heart and squeezes with a warmth that threatens to soften even the hardest of gargoyles. She looks at everything, clapping her hands in delight as she takes in the spread.
“It’s not... five-star fancy,” Aubrey rumbles, scratching the back of his neck with a clawed finger, “but the best is yet to come.”
Dolly’s response is immediate; she whirls around, her arms flinging wide to encompass us all in her happiness. She plants kisses on each of us—a touch as light as a butterfly’s wings—and then settles down amid the cushions and blankets, her gaze twinkling with mischief.
“Food, boys. You need to feed this B before I lose control,” she declares, her voice laced with playful authority.
We all sit in a circle surrounding her with different foods to offer the girl who captured our hearts and changed our lives. The forest’s symphony plays around us as I watch Dolly snatch and nibble on a golden-fried mozzarella stick, her eyes alight with pleasure. A laugh ripples from her lips, and it spreads through our group like wildfire, infecting us all with shared mirth. Her appetiteis robust and infectious; she takes a bite here, a sip there, her delight in the simple feast evident.
“Take a bite of this, Princess,” Felix insists, offering her a crispy onion, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I promise you’ll love it.”
“Only if you have one too,” Dolly counters, laughter lurking beneath her words. She feeds him in turn, their heads close together, an intimate exchange observed by the moon and stars.
I join in the merry dance, leaning forward to present her with a skewer of cheesy goodness, my fingers grazing hers. Our gazes lock for a moment, electric and charged, before she bites down, her lips brushing my fingertips. I can’t help but shiver at the contact, feeling more alive than a man of stone should ever feel.
“Careful, Rennie,” Aubrey teases, his deep voice resonant in the still evening air, “or you’ll get too excited and we’ll ruin the dessert.”
His jest earns a round of chuckles, even as Dolly’s hand finds mine, giving it a tender squeeze.
When the last of the food has been savored, and our laughter has woven into the tapestry of the night, we settle into a contented hush. That’s when the gifts appear, each one adding another layer of emotion to the evening’s tapestry.
Aubrey presents his first, the sparkling earrings that match the Dragon Empress Tiara glinting in the moonlight. Dolly’s hands fly to her mouth, her eyes misting over as she admires their intricate design. She wasn’t a fan of finding out who the crown belonged to, but she adores parading around in it when she thinks no one is looking.
My mate did a very good job packing these for our trip overseas; he, too, deserves a treat.
“Thank you, big guy,” she whispers, reverence tainting her usually lively tone. “They’re beautiful. I’m terrified of them, but I love them just the same.”
The typically grumpy dragon’s chest swells with pride, his grin stretching from scale to scale. “Of course, nothing less for our queen,” he says with a wink.
Before the sentiment can linger too long, I pull out my own offering, the tickets gleaming like a promise of adventure yet to come. Dolly gasps, her eyes widening as she realizes what they are.
“Our adventure into Paris?” she squeals, pure joy radiating from her. “Rennie, this is perfect! I can’t wait to see your city with you.”
“Oui, ma chérie. I want to show you my home the way only someone who lived here when it was young can,” I reply, my accent thicker on my tongue now that I’m basking in her excitement.
“Fucking French-fried show-off,” Aubrey grumbles good-naturedly, but his smirk betrays his amusement.
“You know my people practically invented romance,” I shoot back, sharing a conspiratorial glance with Dolly, who is still clutching the tickets as if they might take flight.
She leans in then, her kiss a sweet stamp of gratitude on my cheek, the scent of her happiness mingling with the earthiness of the forest around us. “I’m excited to have dinner and see the show, then tour the city, myangel of music.”
I roll my eyes and huff playfully, “You’rethe angel of music,petite, not me.”
Dolly snorts. “I could totally be a mask-wearing stalker; I’m taking lessons from Fitzy.”
The laughter of our family is a soft symphony of mirth as Chess steps forward, his sleek cheetah Giselle evident even with the coolers long set aside. He reaches into a side pocket and produces a worn canvas bag, which crinkles as he presents it to Dolly. She cocks her head, her rainbow hair shimmering in the moonlight, curiosity dancing in her eyes.
“Open it,” Chess urges, his own eyes gleaming with a mix of pride and anticipation.
She dips her hand inside and pulls out a sweater, the fabric cascading over her fingers like a waterfall of colors that sing in harmony with her vibrant locks. The yarn is thick, soft, and full of love—every stitch a testament to Chess’s dedication. Alongside the sweater are leg warmers, a perfect matching pair, their hues equally vivid and joyful.
“Chess, they’re beautiful!” Dolly exclaims, holding them up against herself, the size just right for covering her dance garb on the chillier days.
“Knitting’s become a bit of an obssession since we all decided to learn,” Chess admits, scratching the back of his neck with a shy smile. “It relaxes me now that I’ve gotten better under Aubrey’s tutelage.”