“Well, I’m just happy to be here,” she said, taking her seat with a stack of her very own bright and shiny comics next to her. “I mean, I don’t expect to actually meet too many people—”

“Omigod! You’re Evie Savoie!” Two girls, one with short spiked blond hair next to another with a faux hawk, scurried up. She was holding her own copy of the first issue of Witches in the City. More like clutching it lovingly to her breast. “Could I, I mean, would you mind signing this for me?”

Evie grinned. “Of course. I’d love to!” She looked around the table, scrambling, pushing aside the postcards that featured a hooded figure in shadow, his wolf walking beside him and the script, Mr. Wolfman, Coming Soon.

“Here, Ms. Savoie.” I handed her the black fine-tip Sharpie.

“Thank you.” She beamed another smile that hit me in the gut.

Oh, fuck yeah. We’re getting the best blowjob of our lives tonight.

Probably, I admitted.

Even after the spell had been broken, Alpha hadn’t left me. For some reason, I wasn’t really surprised. And for some insanely freakish reason, it didn’t really bother me. I’d become used to him, and with Evie at my side, he behaved. Most of the time.

The girls in front of her table both gushed over the issues they’d read, which was all of them, begging for news when the next one was coming out.

“You can follow her newsletter,” I chimed in, handing them a business card with all of Evie’s social media listed.

“Wow!” squealed the spiked-hair girl. “Thank you so much.”

That earned me another beautiful smile from my beautiful girl. After another ten minutes, the girls asked for a selfie. I offered my services to get a good shot with her next to the banner, because that’s the kind of boyfriend I was. Then her first fangirling moment was over. Evie looked up to the roof. “I can’t believe it. I have fans.”

“You know you have fans. As of last night, you’re up to forty thousand likes on your Webtoon’s episodes, and your print issues are selling very well. Bam can’t keep them in stock.”

Bam. That fucker. Love seeing him piss his pants every time we stroll in to deliver her new issue every week.

Yep. Me, too.

We are so in sync.

“Oh, this looks cool,” said a girl in a Jedi cosplay costume, looking identical to Rey from Star Wars.

“Your costume is amazing,” said Evie, her jaw dropping open.

“Thanks. Love your T-shirt.”

Evie blushed. She’d asked me at least ten times if her T-shirt was too naughty for Comic Con. I had to remind her she was the one who told me it was the place where ‘freaks and geeks unite.’ That had been the deciding factor to wear the one with Deadpool licking a lollipop with a speech bubble saying, Practice makes perfect.

“Are you the creator of this comic?”

“I am,” she admitted brightly.

I watched her in her element, engaging with her new fan, completely relaxed and unbelievably happy, smiling and laughing with such joy it stopped my breath. This woman. So amazing. And she was mine.

Ours.

After a while, Rey bought the first three issues, then drifted off to another table with much longer lines, and the day went on. Fans who followed her on the Webtoon app and bought her comics in the city at Bam’s filtered in throughout the day as well as brand new fans. When I brought her back a lunch of shrimp po’boys and fries, because she didn’t want to leave her table for a second, I found a guy standing across from her, his brow pursed in concentration and listening to Evie talk. She was being animated with her hands, so I knew she was excited about whatever she was saying.

When I took a seat beside her, she turned to me, her eyes wide and expressive with excitement. Her pulse tripped so fast, I put a hand on her knee under the table to try to ease her.

“Mateo, this is Hugh Morton. He works with The Holloman Agency.”

“Nice to meet you.” I shook his hand.

“Are you her agent?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Her boyfriend.”

“Oh.” He smiled brighter. “Well, she’s going to need an agent. I represent quite a few comic book artists you may know.” He gestured to a guy across the way who’d had long lines all day. “I’d be happy to send you some references, then maybe we can discuss what I can offer in more detail.”

“Thank you so much. I mean, I’m a little floored here,” she admitted on a nervous laugh.

“Well, I’ll tell you. You’re doing great on your own. That’s how I spotted you. I’ve been following some comic book fandoms, and I kept seeing mentions of Witches in the City. Then I saw you on the list for Wizard World. Anyway, I’ll be heading to the next stop for the con in Houston then heading back to LA, but I’d really like to talk further.” He handed over his business card.

“Thank you so much.” She took the card and stared at it, biting her bottom lip.

“I understand if you want to remain indie. A lot of artists are very successful on their own in today’s publishing climate.” He tapped the card she held in her hand. “But if you want to pitch to the big dogs, I’d like to work with you.”

She stared at him, wide-eyed. “I love the big dogs.”

Fucking right, you do. Really big.

“Well, then. Think it over and give me a call next week?” He gave me a nod. “Nice to meet you.” Then he returned to the table where his client was working his long-ass line.

Spinning in her seat, she shook her head, completely lost. Speechless. Grabbing her hand, I then dragged her down the corridor and around a section curtained off for breaks for exhibitors. Thankfully, no one was there. I pulled her close to the window with a wide view of the traffic stacking up on Canal Street near the Hilton that overlooked the Mississippi River.

“You see?” Cupping her pretty face in my hands, I pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “You did it.”

“I can’t believe it. I had a little help.”

“Nah. Just a little nudge.”

“A little big one.”

Tasting her lips, I whispered, “I’d like to nudge you with another big one.”

She had one hand in my hair, fisting and pulling my head down so she could reach. “I really, really want another big one.”

She dove in, sweeping her tongue against mine in that aggressive way that got me hard as fuck. Scooping her up by the ass, I pressed her back against the window and indulged in her mouth. Those lips. That sweet, sweet smile.

I groaned, grinding into her. “When is this over?”

“Not for four more hours,” she breathed, biting my lip and rubbing her jean-clad pussy against me.

I glanced into the alcove, seeing a few doors leading who knows where. Surely, one was a closet. Wait, what the hell was I thinking? We’d left all her stock, the tablet with the credit card reader on the table, and a pouch of cash just sitting underneath the table. I swear, she made me lose my mind.

Breaking a kiss we shouldn’t be having in semi-public anyway, I stared at her. The sun was high over the skyscrapers, shining straight through the halo of wispy hairs around her face that had loosened from her ponytail.

“We should get back,” I whispered without much conviction.

“No. We should go find a closet.”

Damn, if she wasn’t thinking too much like me. I laughed.

“Someone could steal all your stuff.”

“I don’t care.” She grinned, shaking her head, her ponytail swinging in the sunlight.

I brushed the backs of my knuckles along her cheek. “You’re so beautiful, Evie.”

She moaned with a pout. “Now I really, really want to find a closet.”

I set her on her feet. “No, baby. Your fans are waiting.”

Her electric smile lit up her face. “I’ve got fans.” Again, that matter-of-fact tenor like she was trying to convince herself.

“You do. Lots of them.”

“And I’ve got a fine-as-hell boyfriend who’s my assistant for the day.”

“I’m actually your assistant for life.”

“Gah.” She blew out a breath. “You’ve gotta stop saying things like that. You’re just the awesomest ever.”

“Well…” I laced my fingers through her hand, walking us back to the table. “Let’s get your awesome ass back to your table, then I can take your awesome ass home.”

“And have your wicked way with my awesome ass?” She waggled her eyebrows.

“Got that fuckin’ right.”

Couldn’t have said it better, brother.