“Happy anniversary.”

I blinked my eyes open and looked at the King of the Underworld.

He was propped up on one bicep, staring down at me with expectant amber eyes. His dark hair was tousled from sleep. My gaze slid to the dragon tattoo etched on his skin, winding around his shoulder.

He cleared his throat.

Right. “Happy anniversary,” I parroted.

Internally, my mind was frantically going, Anniversary? What anniversary?

“You didn't forget, did you?”

This male reads me like a book. “Of course not,” I lied.

He narrowed his eyes at me. For a second, I thought he would call me out, but instead, he broke into a grin. “Great, then I can give you your present.”

He leaped up from the bed with lupine grace and I was momentarily distracted by the view—sue me for ogling at my husband.

“Wait!” I yelped.

He paused and slowly turned back towards me. And I got a lot more distracted.

“Yes?”

I didn't have a present. Crap. “Shouldn't we exchange gifts this evening? It would be more, uh, romantic.”

And give me time to sneak out and find a good anniversary gift.

Cole shrugged. “If you prefer.”

Phew.

“We can still spend the day together, of course,” he added.

“I have plans,” I protested hastily. Or I did, now that I knew I needed to get him a gift.

Cole stalked towards me. “Is that so?”

I nodded. My heart was picking up speed. Cole's attention was lethal for me. The thrill of having his predatory gaze fixed on me always drew out my own inner nature.

“I know you're dedicated to the kingdom, but I won't settle for our marriage coming second.”

Something in me melted. “I don't expect you to.” It was true, I'd been working a lot lately. We both had. Even with Hecate's help, bringing in hundreds of thousands of new souls meant a lot of late nights and early mornings—not always separated by sleep. Being immortal, it was easy to neglect optional needs like food and rest.

But I never wanted to neglect my husband. We tried to make time, but even though in theory we had forever, it didn't always feel like enough.

“It's not work. I had plans with Hecate and Daphne in the other realm.” Well, I would once I explained it was a crisis, and I needed help picking out the perfect gift to compensate for the fact I'd totally forgotten our anniversary (and was about to ditch Cole's planned day).

“Is that so?” Cole moved onto the bed. “Then of course, you should do that. I suppose that means you'll be heading out any minute.”

He was closer now, kneeling on the bed as I had propped myself up from under the covers.

“Maybe not right this minute.” I grinned at him. “I could spare a little time for my husband.”

“Good.”

He pounced on me.

* * *

“You forgot your anniversary?”

I winced. “It's not like we keep a regular calendar.”

Daphne arched a brow at me while I gave her an indignant huff. It was true, though. The days had mostly blended together. The Underworld had come out of its stasis slightly, the sky there was bright blue during the day and navy at night, with some slight variation in the weather patterns that hadn’t been there before. But compared to the frost and fall leaves on the ground in the realm of the living, most days in my own kingdom were interchangeable.

“It’s not your wedding anniversary, of that I’m certain, soteria.”

At least someone was keeping track. I'd snatched Hecate from whatever she'd been doing with Stefan and dragged her through a portal with me. The two had been spending a lot of time together since the souls had come back... though I wasn't sure all of it was work-related.

Daphne had been slightly harder to pin down. She split her time between the former territories. Uniting packs that had been independent of each other was no simple task. Today, I’d caught her in an argument with Xander and Ian over resource distribution. I could just magically make more of whatever they needed; a large part of me wanted to fix everything up in this realm. The power in my veins crackled with the desire to intercede. But the agreement was to let the living govern the realm of the living. They had to make their own choices. Instead, I lent an ear when Daphne needed to vent to me about whichever male had pissed her off—and cackled when she inevitably recounted the attempts to make it up to her the next day.

Xander and Ian were obviously reluctant to let Daphne out of their sight, even mid-argument, but Best Friend Crisis trumps Alpha Male Grumpiness. I’d portaled us over to Daphne’s house—or rather, her roof.

The three of us settled while I filled both in on my issue. I was no stranger to laying on roofs, though Hecate took it in regal stride, magically fixing her dress around her.

“Which anniversary is it, then?” Daphne asked.

I shrugged, looking up at the sky. It was chilly out, but the cold didn’t affect me much now. “I’m not sure. It’s not when we met in Hell, since that was right after the Choosing. Maybe when we met in a dream for the first time?” This lifetime, anyway.

My past life memories weren’t very helpful. Cole and I—when we’d been Hades and Persephone—hadn’t exactly celebrated anniversaries back then. But we had both changed in many ways since then. “Shit, it could be the anniversary of him setting that freaking Leo demon on me.”

Hecate chuckled. “You two did have quite the courtship.”

I rolled my eyes, but my cheeks heated. The lion-like demon trying to maul me hadn’t exactly been the height of romance, but what had come after… well, that was another matter.

“Okay, so you don’t know what anniversary it is. What are you going to get him?”

I winced. “I was hoping you might have some ideas.”

Hecate and Daphne did have ideas. A lot of ideas.

They just happened to be bad ones.

First came clothing. The man had more black silk shirts than anyone needed, justifiable only because he looked so damn good in them. A belt? He already had plenty to wear. A belt for him to use to tie me up? Again, he had plenty. Handwritten notes? Not really our speed. Books? More my thing than his. Magically grown wood furniture? I’d made plenty already. A hand-painted portrait? Only if I let him inhale the paint fumes before seeing it, so it might look right. A motorcycle like Ian had? He’d need to constantly go to the realm of the living for fuel. A tattoo of his name on my left boob—sorry, heart?

“I already went to Tartarus for the man, I doubt one more symbol of commitment would mean anything,” I said with a sigh.

“But I really wanted to try using Ian’s tattoo gun,” Daphne whined.

I inched away from my best friend like she might suddenly whip one out anyway. “Okay, definitely no tattoo then. If Ian is so supportive of you learning, he can teach you.”

Daphne growled. “He said I’m not allowed yet.” She turned to Hecate. “Have you ever considered a tasteful tramp stamp?”

Hecate looked pointedly at me. “I still think handwritten notes are a classic.”

Of course, she did. Because I’d seen her get a few from Stefan. But I wasn’t any kind of a writer, and if I tried it would probably read something like Hey, babe, sorry for forgetting whatever anniversary. Love you bunches, wouldn’t risk my soul for anyone else. P.S. Can I get an appointment with your dick tonight?

“How are you guys worse at this than I am?” I sank down against the slate roof, staring up at the sky. “You know what? I’ll make him a nice, home-cooked meal.”

Hecate and Daphne exchanged a glance over my head.

I sprang back up. “What?”

“Avery… have you ever cooked for Cole before?”

“No.” I grinned, excitement growing at the idea. “That’s what makes it perfect. It’s personable, not something he can get from someone else, and isn’t so mushy I’ll want to barf.”

“Girl, maybe you won’t, but it’s very possible he will.”

I stared at Daphne, affronted. “I said I’d cook for him. It doesn’t need to be a seven-course meal, but I’m sure I can manage something. Back me up, Hecate.”

The enchantress shifted slightly, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeves. Hecate never fidgeted. “My queen, you possess a great deal of magic and many talents.”

Her jaw snapped shut. I waited for her to continue, but she just looked at me.

“But?” I prompted. “You don’t think I can do this either? You’ve never even had my cooking!”

“I have,” Daphne said.

That was true. But it had been years ago! Technically because I’d been forbidden from cooking in the Gallagher household. Okay, my mother in this past life hadn’t exactly been Ms. Nurturing, and most of my diet growing up was whatever I could forage in our perpetually nearly empty fridge. So I might have gone a little high with the heat on the oven and maybe there were a few scorch marks that we’d needed to hide even if shifter smelling picked out the scent of smoke as soon as her parents had come home. But that was years ago. I’d taken on Alphas, demons, a goddess, and an entire freaking realm since then. How hard could it really be?

“That’s why I’m saying, let’s go back to the belt idea,” Daphne continued, her voice coaxing. “If not a belt, what about a blindfold? Don’t you think he’d like that?”

I wanted to give Cole something special, not kinky sex. Okay, I wanted that, too. But it wasn’t really a gift for him, per se.

No, this was the best option. “The meal is a great idea. And you two can help me if you’re so concerned.”

* * *

The first step was picking a recipe. Hecate apparently kept cookbooks among her various collections of incantations, so with a snap of her fingers, a dusty tome appeared in front of me. The title was in a foreign language. Another snap of her fingers, and the glyphs rearranged themselves into A Hundred Dishes to Wow Your Man Without Breaking a Sweat.

I raised a brow at her choice.

“Do you wish for my assistance or not, soteria?”

I flipped the dusty book open and scanned the table of contents. Hecate’s translation spell wasn’t exactly flawless, but I got the general idea of the recipes listed. For wolves, the obvious choice was meat. I picked a dish at random that seemed simple enough: it called for chicken, tomatoes, and cheese. I slid my selection over to Daphne and Hecate and both gave a nod of approval.

We’d moved into Daphne’s kitchen, so she started pulling out the requisite mix of spices. Tomatoes were easy enough with my magic. The chicken, however…

“I shall handle this,” Hecate said primly.

She stepped out of the kitchen into the yard. We couldn’t see her from this distance, but then a cluck sounded from behind the house, joined by the rustle of flapping wings.

Daphne shot me a look. “She isn’t going to…”

Cluck! Cluck! Cl⁠—!

Suddenly, it was very quiet.

“I think she just did.”

Hecate entered the kitchen a moment later with a neatly dressed chicken on a silver tray.

“Girl,” Daphne said to the enchantress.

“I’ve done worse things for my kingdom,” she retorted.

I lifted the tray from her hands. “Thank you, Hecate. Now, let’s get started.”

Although I wanted their help, it was important to me it was my own hands doing this, my scent mixing in with the food. A soft smile curled on my lips at the thought of Cole ravenously devouring the delicious meal I’d prepared.

Forgotten anniversary, shmorgotten anniversary.

That meant my two companions were relegated to backseat cooking. Hecate sat at the kitchen island with the recipe book open while Daphne handed me the tools. The tomatoes were diced in short order, the breading mix prepared. I cut the chicken into two almost-bone-free piles.

“Now what?” I asked.

“Now you beat the meat.”

I stared at the enchantress. “Um, run that one by me again?”

“It is time,” Hecate enunciated, “to beat the meat.”

There was no helping it. I tried. I tried so hard. But the moment Daphne and I exchanged sidelong glances, I lost it, collapsing into a fit of giggles. Daphne went right down with me, grasping the countertop for support as she hung her head between her legs.

“You heard her,” Daphne said between gasps. “Time to beat the—the meat.”

I chortled. “Yeah. I’ll, uh, get on that.” It was nearly impossible to talk through our peels of laughter. I wobbled over to the book. “Does it really say that?”

Hecate angled the book so I could see it. She flicked her wrist, and the letters shifted again, rearranging themselves as she refined her spellwork. “I suppose another translation might be tenderize.”

Her expression was stern, but I saw the side of her lip quirk up before she caught it.

“Tenderize. Got it.”

I made my way back to the mountain of chicken, and Daphne handed me a heavy steel mallet with spikes at the end. I gave her a dubious look. True, I hadn’t spent much time in the kitchen, but this looked more like a weapon than a culinary device.

“Come on, Avery. Beat your meat for your man.” Daphne wasn’t half as good at keeping a stony affect while saying things like that.

I took the mallet anyway. And then I tapped the chicken. And when that didn’t seem to do much, I hit it again and again and again, and I beat that chicken breast until I was confident it would be the most scrumptious, tender chicken breast Cole had ever had.

“I’m not completely sure it’s supposed to look like that,” my best friend, Queen of the Sugar Coat, said as I held up the paper-thin, hole-ridden… thing.

Maybe not.

“Well, I’m not slaughtering another chicken even for you, my queen, so it’ll have to do.”

“It’ll be fine once it’s cooked,” I assured both of them. Worry-warts.

In short order, the chicken was coated in flour, egg, bread crumbs and fried in oil. Which was to say in short order the kitchen was covered in a dusting of white, the eggshells had been mostly picked off the counter-top since “that was how all the real cooks do it,” and the ceiling was just slightly scorched which I put out before the house caught fire. I nearly collapsed with relief when we finally smothered the chicken in tomato sauce and cheese.

“You do plan on making dessert as well, do you not?” Hecate reminded me.

Right. Dessert was a quick decision: I liked pie, but Daphne bluntly informed me only cookies stood a chance of being made in time, so cookies it was. We were running short on time, so the tray of chocolate chip cookies went in with the chicken to bake. We used the remaining time to clean the kitchen (okay, Hecate gave a shrug of her shoulder and everything looked just like before—except the scorch mark) and get me ready for my anniversary date.

Twelve minutes later, I was standing in the kitchen in a fitted dress that fell halfway down my thigh. My hair was tamed into enchantress-approved curls, and Daphne had worked her own kind of magic on my face. I plucked the cookie tray and glass dish from the oven and waved both off before portaling back to the castle.

* * *

“I made our anniversary dinner,” I announced proudly, presenting the covered trays with a flourish.

I’d made it back to the realm just in time. One magical message to Cole later, and he appeared in the same room, dressed in his signature black.

He looked good.

His hair was slicked back just slightly to tame it, his amber eyes immediately roving over my dress-clad body. We’d seen each other just this morning, but all it took was one look and I realized how much I had missed him today.

The great dining hall was empty except for the two of us. It held an extremely long, narrow table. It was customary for the king and queen to sit at opposite ends, but neither of us had wanted that, so instead, I slid into a seat next to Cole on one side. Properly regal? No. But it let him wrap his arm around the back of my shoulders and kiss my head when I uncovered the tray of food, which was arguably much more important.

The only issue was in my haste, I hadn’t realized I was proudly presenting the King of the Underworld with charcoal. The acidic smell of burnt tomato sauce hit us at the same time. I winced.

“You made this?” Cole confirmed.

“Yup.”

“And to be clear, this isn’t another instance of you attempting to poison me?”

“I did that with a kiss, not a home-cooked meal.” Though he might well prefer the poison based on the appearance of the food. How was it possible for such a simple dish to look like… that? Blackened bubbles of burnt cheese had stuck to the lid and been ripped away. I was suddenly a lot less confident in dinner.

I mean, technically, neither of us had to eat, right? I was about to suggest just dumping the entire thing when Cole unwrapped his cutlery and settled the napkin in his lap.

“Smells delicious. Let’s eat.”

And he began to serve himself. Even with his immortal strength, he had to put his whole arm into cutting the chicken dish.

“You really don’t have to,” I mumbled as he began to saw off a piece of chicken. Guilt pricked at me. It wouldn’t kill him… right?

He didn’t dignify that with an answer. Instead, he put the first piece in his mouth and started to chew. My shifter hearing picked up on a distinct crunch that was unexpected given the nature of the dish, but Cole didn’t say a word, just began to cut the next piece. And then the next. Each one he ate resolutely, with the determination of a soldier at war.

Once, I tried to help and eat some out of solidarity. Every one of my senses rebelled. I nearly choked trying to swallow a bite of breaded chicken.

Cole finished the entire thing.

Then he polished off the entire blackened container of cookies as dessert.

I wasn’t oblivious. I could recognize that what I’d made was an absolute abomination, and part of me felt silly for serving it to Cole in the first place. But the fact he devoured the entire thing without so much as a wince made my chest all at once tight with all the love and affection I felt for my husband.

He set his cutlery down and pushed back from the table. “My turn.”

A slice of shadow appeared to his left side. He reached his hand into the void and pulled forth a sword. It was half his height, glinting from the chandelier’s candles, but not as much as a shiny metal sword might. This one was carved from something darker, as if it swallowed half the light that hit it instead of reflecting it. The hilt was without ornamentation, but it was carefully carved to fit the wielder’s hand. It was beautiful and deadly in equal measure.

“You know, normally people just give one-star reviews, they don’t murder the chef.”

“My wife, my queen, love of my immortal life… Chef isn’t among your titles for a reason. Warrior, however, is.”

Any response I could give to that (valid) criticism was cut off as he abruptly tossed the blade at me.

My hand snapped up on reflex, curling around the hilt in a split second.

“You got me a sword,” I said, stating the obvious. But I quickly realized it was more than that.

I gave an experimental flick and marveled at how natural it was. I’d used good blades, but this one was immaculate. It was perfectly weighted, ideally proportioned. More than that, now that it was in my grasp, I could feel Cole’s death magic wrapped inside the sword. His essence was as familiar as his face or scent. The death magic wasn’t aggressive with me, but rather a protective layer. This was a weapon without equal.

“Actually, I got you an evening of sparring.”

My attention swung from the sword back to Cole.

“Really?”

His answering grin was nothing short of feral. “What can I say? I know my wife.”

* * *

We were outside the castle. More accurately, several thousand miles from the capital. Although we had an arena, when Cole and I tussled, things could get a bit out of hand given our powers. The plains stretched around us, a river several hundred feet to my left, the forest in the distance.

“Is this a hint?” I asked, swiping my new sword through the air.

“A hint you’re getting out of practice,” he taunted. “With you being so busy with administration, I have to make sure you still have the ability to keep the realm safe.”

I prowled closer. “That so?”

“Let’s find out.”

Oh, I’d tell him something. “How safe is the realm going to be if I lop your arm off? You know, since I’m so ‘out of practice.’”

“That’s a chance I’m willing to take.” Cole rolled his shoulders and then thrust his hand to the side once more, calling his own blade from the dark.

I gestured to my dress. “You have me at a disadvantage, you know.”

His answering grin showed his canines. “Then, by all means, get rid of it.”

I turned the blade on myself, hiding my grin as his eyebrows shot up in shock. He hadn’t expected me to call his bluff.

And I wasn’t. I only used the blade to cut a slit around my thigh. It ruined the dress, which was a crime I’d make him pay for, but it gave me the additional mobility I needed.

Then I curled two fingers in his direction with my free hand, the universal symbol for bring it.

Cole surged forward.

Game on.

The clatter of metal rang out as our blades collided. Cole pushed forward. I pushed back. We fell into an immediate dance, each anticipating the other’s moves. My heart sped up, adrenaline filling my veins.

This was what I was made for.

Cole’s attacks grew more ferocious, and I matched him in equal measure. My heart was a frantic metronome urging me to swing harder, move faster. I might know Cole would never truly hurt me, but in the heat of battle, it was all about victory. Seconds passed, then minutes. For most, even a two-minute fight was forever. With our divine stamina, we went for over an hour.

Magic swirled around us. My vines tried to snag his feet, his shadows snaked around my wrists to slow me. But neither of us gave the other quarter.

I smirked at Cole as the flat of my blade landed against his side.

He smirked back when he managed to sweep my legs.

We tumbled over each other, grappling. The swords disappeared first. Then the clothes. Then, at last, the sparring turned to a different sort and all my senses were filled with Cole, Cole, Cole.

Mine.

* * *

When we finally collapsed onto each other, neither of us had any intentions of portaling back to our bedroom. The ground wasn’t exactly comfortable, so I used a little magic to soften the grass beneath us and made a vine blanket to tuck over us. Cole pulled me onto his chest, and I curled against him. Our breaths mellowed, rising and falling in sync. I traced the mate mark with my fingers, first his, then mine, loving the matching symbol.

Well, now was as good a time as any to own up to it.

“I have a confession,” I murmured, my cheek pressed against his chest so I could hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat. “I don’t know what anniversary we’re celebrating.”

Cole was quiet for a long moment.

Was he upset? Hurt I hadn’t remembered?

“I got so distracted with work, I forgot, and I can’t say it will never happen again but I promise I’m going to be better about balancing time for us,” I continued, lifting my head so I could look him in the eye.

“Oh. That.”

“That?” I repeated.

“That,” he confirmed. “It’s not actually our anniversary.”

I blinked at him. What? “It’s not?”

“No. I just wanted to spend the evening with my wife and screw with you at the same time.” He lifted a hand and booped me on the nose, like I was a cute little pet.

“Cole,” I said as calmly as possible. “I’m going to murder you.”

“I know,” he said, with all the nonchalance of a male who didn’t really believe me. “That’s why I got you the sword.”