Tavia nudged him with her elbow, grin dangerous, and Many Gods, it made Wesley want to kiss her again. Truthfully, he never wanted to stop kissing her now, or to get out of this bed, but that didn’t seem like the best plan with death on their doorstep.

Or perhaps it was.

Perhaps, Wesley should test the theory, just in case.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” he said.

No, not talk.

Kiss.

Kiss first, and then ask if she still planned to run to Volo when the battle was over, like she’d always dreamed of. They hadn’t had the chance to talk about it yet and Wesley didn’t want to push his luck.

He hoped Tavia would help him rebuild Creije. He wanted them to stay in the city they had grown up in so they could continue growing there together. But just because things had changed between them, it didn’t mean Tavia had changed her mind about what she wanted for her future.

“It’s about what we’re going to do after we kill Ashwood,” Wesley said.

Tavia put down the mirror doll and turned to him. “Let’s not talk about after,” she said. “Let’s just focus on now.”

She reached over and curled her hand around the back of Wesley’s neck, pulling him to her. His lips locked onto hers and with Tavia’s free hand she squeezed his, like she was pressing some of her strength into him.

Wesley pulled the bedsheets backs over their heads and Tavia laughed loudly. Gods, he couldn’t get enough of that laugh.

And then there was a knock and Wesley paused.

He pulled the sheets back down and looked to the door.

“Are you expecting company?” he asked.

Tavia shook her head. “You get it,” she said, stretching. “I’m comfortable.”

Wesley rolled his eyes and reluctantly pushed himself up from the bed, throwing on the suit trousers that were slung over the chair.

“Whoever it is, just kill them and come back to bed,” Tavia called over to him.

Wesley smirked and opened the door, ready to do just that. Until he saw Saxony’s amja standing on the other side.

Wesley cursed to himself.

That family had woeful timing.

“I’m not interrupting, am I?” she asked.

Yes, Wesley thought.

Out loud, he said, “No, it’s fine.”

“Can we talk? It’s important.”

Wesley cleared his throat, suddenly aware he wasn’t wearing a shirt. “Sure.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Just give me a second.”

He quickly closed the door and shot Tavia an apologetic look, but she was grinning.

“Did your amja just interrupt us for a quiet little talk with her grandson?” she asked. “Because that’s hilarious. All we need now is for your sister to come in wanting to borrow a cup of sugar.”