Bridget’s face hurt from smiling. Everyone wanted to congratulate her personally, ask questions, and give her hugs. It was amazing and exhausting, and she braced herself for spending several more hours doing the same.

After all, she couldn’t refuse anyone, not after they’d unanimously approved her proposal.

Victor stood to the side, partially hidden behind one of the screens and trying to avoid the immortal stampede. As he was the only human present, she couldn’t fault him for being cautious, but she longed for his embrace. This was his victory as much as it was hers. They had both worked hard to make this presentation a success.

He deserved to be in the spotlight just as much as she did.

Bridget cast him an apologetic smile, but he seemed satisfied remaining in the shadows. That was where Victor felt the most comfortable. It was obvious he didn’t want the attention. Even if he were an immortal and part of the clan, he would have done exactly what he was doing now.

Bridget didn’t mind one way or the other. She didn’t crave the attention or shy away from it. But it would have been nice to get out of there, kick off her high heels, and relax with a drink.

It had been a long and intense journey that had culminated in an emotionally charged performance, and she was exhausted.

“You’ve done great.” Kian pulled her into a hug which was a rarity for him. The guy wasn’t into displays of physical affection except for with his wife. On the few occasions Bridget had interacted with the couple in a social setting, she’d been embarrassed for Syssi because Kian insisted his wife sat in his lap, and he kept stroking her back as if she was his comfort blanket.

In a way she was. Syssi had a calming effect on Kian, for which everyone in the keep was grateful. Without her, the guy would have been intolerable.

“Thank you.” She made a move to push away from him but Kian wrapped his arm around her shoulders and held on.

“If I don’t get you out of here, you’re going to fall down on your face from fatigue,” he whispered, but it was loud enough for those standing close to them to hear.

He waved a hand in a shooing motion. “Let the good doctor rest after the tremendous job she’s done. Bridget is tired and needs to go home. Whatever you want to tell her or ask her can be done via text or email tomorrow. She is done for tonight.”

“Thank you again.” She leaned her head against his bicep as Kian walked her out of the assembly hall. Turner followed a step behind them, walking in Kian’s big shadow.

“Come up to the penthouse. Otherwise, you’ll get accosted in the elevators. Syssi is making cappuccinos.”

“What I need now is a drink, not a cappuccino,” she said as they entered the penthouse’s dedicated elevator.

Kian let go of her as soon as the doors closed. Bridget leaned against the wall and extended her hand to Victor. “I need a hug.”

Turner glanced at Kian, then embraced her for about two seconds, clapping her back and murmuring, “I’m proud of you.”

Her guy wasn’t into public displays of affection either.

Syssi, on the other hand, had no such qualms. “You were awesome,” she squealed and pounced on Bridget as soon as Kian opened the door to their penthouse.

“Thank you. It was exhausting.”

Syssi led her to the couch. “I can imagine.” She pushed the ottoman closer. “Take off your shoes and put your feet up. They must be killing you after standing up for so long.”

“They are.” Bridget followed Syssi’s advice.

To her great surprise, Turner sat on the ottoman, lifted one of her feet into his lap, and started massaging.

The groan she emitted sounded like she was having a mini orgasm.

Victor chuckled. “Better?”

“Yes. Please don’t stop.”

Kian walked over to the bar, where Syssi got busy with her cappuccino machine. “What would you like to drink, Bridget?”

“Something sweet but strong. I need to unwind.”

“You can make her my version of a Moscow Mule,” Syssi suggested.

“Sounds interesting. What’s in it?”

“Ginger ale, ginger paste, fresh lime juice, and mango-flavored vodka.”

“Yummy. Just don’t skimp on the vodka.”

“For you, Turner?” Kian asked.

“Whatever you’re drinking.”

“Scotch?”

“Sure.”

Victor switched to her other foot, eliciting another inappropriate moan.

“We have a guest room you can use.” Syssi handed Bridget her drink and sat on the couch next to her, a cappuccino cup cradled between her palms. “The problem with you Scots is that you all like your alcohol so much. Hardly anyone wants to taste my cappuccinos, which are amazing if I say so myself. I think I make the best ones in town.”

“Don’t brag.” Kian handed Turner a glass, eyed the spot next to Syssi on the couch, then sighed and sat on one of the armchairs. “Before you know it you’ll be running the new café in the village. You’ll get sick of making cappuccinos in no time.”

Bridget stifled a giggle. Syssi was just saved from sitting in Kian’s lap again.

Except, a moment later the woman rose to her feet and went to sit on her husband’s lap anyway. As she settled against him, his hand went to work stroking her back, and his facial muscles relaxed.

Did Syssi know she had such a profound effect on Kian?

Probably. Or maybe she just enjoyed the closeness as much as he did.

“That was a clever move on your part to show the Guardians pictures of the village,” Syssi said. “The place is beautiful, and the individual houses are such a big departure from the almost communal living we have here in the keep, and at the two other strongholds. It’s a powerful incentive.”

Bridget sighed and let her head drop back on the couch’s down-filled cushion. “I threw in everything I could think of. If that doesn't work, we are screwed because I’m out of ideas.”

“It will work,” Victor said. “I was watching the expressions on the faces of some of the men. I think you will have a good turnout.”

“I agree with Turner,” Kian said. “When you finished the segment with the personal stories, the guys I watched looked ready to kill. And when you finished the segment about what can be done, they looked excited.”

Bridget took a sip of the Moscow Mule. It was good, so she took another sip, and then another, until most of the drink was gone. It wasn’t enough alcohol to affect her, but it tasted great. She could go for another.

“We will know by tomorrow.”

Syssi cast her a worried look. “Will you be able to sleep?”

“Oh, yeah, like a baby.” Bridget waved a hand. “I’ve done my part to the best of my ability, and I have no regrets. The rest is up to the Fates.”