"Hmm?” He found her purse and his bag on the cluttered kitchen table, made sure the Fang was safely stowed in her purse. Always prepared, isn't she. He took great care not to actually touch the knife.

"How do you feel about marriage?” Her tone was excessively neutral, as if she wasn't sure how he'd react.

Jesus Christ. His heart began to pound. “Sounds good.” Holy hell. I sound like I just swallowed a skornac egg. Jesus Christ on a crutch. “But let's get dinner with the fam out of the way first."

"Tease."

He half-turned, settling the bag strap on his shoulder and holding her purse. I think I'm having a heart attack. “I can think of several ways to disprove that accusation, sweetheart."

The sun slipped behind a low cloud, and shadow drifted through the room. But Chess grinned, and the squeezing inside Ryan's chest wasn't unpleasant at all. The demon stirred uneasily inside his head. Mine, it whispered, and settled back, watchful.

"Okay, big guy. I'll take you up on that. Come on, let's go, we're going to be late.” She held out her hand for her purse, and he had to step over a box full of books before he could approach her.

"Lead the way, Chess. I'm right behind you."