Chapter Text
Killian Swan-Jones truly has a delectable ass.
It isn’t the first time Emma thinks this - and it isn’t even the first time she thinks it this morning - but she gives herself a moment to appreciate the ass that’s all hers before picking up her pace again so they can jog side-by-side.
This view isn’t as good, she thinks at first, glancing over at her husband’s unfairly handsome face, but then she looks down at the chubby cheeks and fat fists of the sleeping baby in the jogging stroller Killian’s pushing and, yeah, this is a pretty good view too.
“I can feel you objectifying me, love,” Killian says, voice rich with amusement. He’s not looking at her ass or at their adorable daughter. Killian’s got his head on a swivel to take in any potential threat that might come at them right outside the Fisher’s house. As many times as Emma’s told him to chill out and relax on their morning jogs in their perfectly safe neighborhood, his Alpha instincts - his mate and father instincts - don’t really respond to reason.
“Feel free to start, babe,” she sasses back with a wink. A little bit of that tension leaves him and Killian takes one hand off the stroller handle, grabs her hand, and brings it to his lips so he can brush a kiss across the back of her knuckles. The softness of his lips and the slight scratch of his scruff make her arm erupt with goosebumps and Killian’s smile grows.
Fucking werewolf husband with his supernatural senses.
Emma tangles their fingers together and with a flick of her other wrist, casts a spell that makes the stroller easier for Killian to manage one-handed. They stay that way for a block, until it gets awkward, and Emma releases him with a squeeze and silently ends the spell, almost launching him into a curb at the abrupt change for the wheels.
Killian recovers quickly though, and with a smack to her own ass and a teasing look, he readjusts his grip on the stroller and they continue their morning jog. This part of their route takes them past a wooded park, and Emma doesn’t feel the kind of discomfort at the sight of wilderness as she did only eighteen months ago. She takes a deep breath of the damp morning air, smelling the blooming flowers and the lingering dew, and she wonders how long before the three of them will have their own family camping adventure.
Wolf/witch mixed children are rare. They’re still waiting to find out if Hope will have a canid form like her papa or magical abilities like her mom.
Back at home, Emma pulls Hope from the stroller, wrestling with little kicking limbs and racing to get her in the house and on the breast before her small cries of dissatisfaction escalate into a full-on hangry tantrum. Killian returns the stroller to its proper place and is fast on her heels at the door between the house and garage.
He even opens it for her. Because she married a gentleman.
Emma hurries through the kitchen and straight to the squishy chair next to the big window, and once Hope latches and her noises of displeasure transform to eager gulps, Emma sighs and relaxes into the plush cushions of her favorite seat.
She takes a moment to calm her racing heart - both from the morning exercise and the instinctual anxiety of a fussy three-month-old - and lets her eyes drift closed in a moment of relaxation. There’s a familiar ache in her chest, the knowledge that she never had this. Her mother never had the opportunity to nurse her. But Emma finds the little hand gripping her sports bra and lets the fingers wrap around her thumb. I’m here, Hope , she thinks to herself. The big bad wolf is gone. When she opens her eyes again, Killian is leaning against the door jam between the living room and kitchen, his expression soft and contented.
“Hey,” Emma says.
“Hey,” Killian returns. He holds up his phone and his face melts to sheepishness. “Smee called twenty times while we were out, as if I hadn’t told him I wouldn’t be at the warehouse until noon. Give me a minute to put out a few fires?”
Emma shrugs - as best as you can while nursing a baby, that is - and shakes her head. “Go on, boss man. I’ll hop in the shower when she’s done.”
Killian disappears into his office off the living room and shuts the door behind him. She knows that’s not because of any secrets. They don’t really have any secrets, after all. And she knows that this time, when his father’s business is resurrected and once again thriving, there won’t be anything he has to hide from a mortal susceptible to the Alpha command.
Once Hope is fed and burped, Emma nestles her against her chest, takes a deep breath of Hope’s baby smell, and manages to pull herself out of the deep squishiness of her chair. It’s a good chair, but it’s a hard chair to get out of.
Upstairs in the nursery, she changes Hope’s diaper and grabs a few of her bright and loud little toys. There’s the keys with the annoying jingle, a rattle with the face of a monkey, and a crinkly square of fabric. Emma carries her cargo to the main bedroom next door and deposits Hope on her belly in a playpen with the toys just out of reach.
Hope’s immediately upset by being set down by her mother and placed in her own workout situation and Emma rolls her eyes as she shimmies out of her sweat-covered athletic clothes.
“I promise this is just for a minute, kid,” Emma reassures her. She steps past Hope and into the en-suite bathroom to turn the shower on to something just south of scalding. Once it’s reached peak temperature, Emma gently rolls Hope onto her back where she’s happier and steps into the steaming spray.
It feels so good to wash off the sweat of her run and the grit of their week of travel. Emma stands under the water for a full three minutes just trying to relax all of her muscles and will her body into some state of contentment. She reaches for her shampoo, ready for her hair to be moisturized by something that didn’t come out of a hotel-provided bottle, but a low growl startles her and ruins any progress she had made under the showerhead.
“Swan?”
One hand is filled with shampoo. Emma uses the other to pull the curtain back slightly and she gives her husband an arch look. “Yes?”
Killian’s eyes dart to her wet tits, but only for a microsecond, then he’s glaring at her again. “I would have been more than happy to hold Hope while you bathed so she didn’t have to be abandoned in the-”
“Abandoned?” Another eyebrow rises on Emma’s forehead and she’s giving Killian an incredulous expression. “Babe, I’m right here. And she’s totally fine.”
As if to prove her mother’s point, Hope manages to catch the crinkly toy in her fat fist. She brings it to her mouth with a coo of delight and gnaws on one of the attached ribbons. Emma wonders if she’s teething. But Emma’s also been wondering that every day of the last three months, so what the hell does Emma know?
Deflated, Killian swallows, and he obviously seems to not know what to say next. Ruby Jones, the best sister-in-law in the world, had given Emma the heads-up months ago about what awaited her with werewolf fatherhood. Helicopter parents don’t have anything on an Alpha. Killian’s attentiveness, attention, and dedication should be totally overwhelming.
Except it isn’t. Not at all.
Instead of being annoyed, Emma’s always filled with a certain gratefulness. Hope’s going to have all the things Emma never had. She’s getting two parents who love her and watch out for her. And there’s something healing about watching her daughter, who shares her fair hair and rounded nose, be the complete center of Killian’s world. Killian looks down at Hope in her playpen with so much love in his eyes that it makes tears prick the corners of Emma’s. Then he looks back at Emma through the doorway of the en-suite and into the shower, where she’s calmly rubbing shampoo into her hair.
“She’s fine,” Emma reassures. She tilts her head to expose her neck and Killian’s eyes darken. “But your mate has washed off your mark. So if someone sneaks in here and finds me in the shower, how are they gonna know that you’ve claimed me?”
Her ridiculous goading works. Killian pulls off his sweat-encased shirt and tosses it in the laundry basket. His socks and shorts come next, and then his damp body is pressing her against the tile of the shower and the scent of him is filling her senses as he attacks her neck with energetic kisses and laps of his tongue.
Just as Emma’s starting to think things are gonna get interesting, Hope chooses to prove her wrong, and the squeals and grunts of frustration make them both sigh. Emma removes her hand from Killian’s ass and, with a playful squeeze, Killian removes his hand from Emma’s breast.
“I’ve got her, love,” Killian soothes before Emma can offer to get out. He washes his hair and body in seconds and jumps out of the shower like it's an Olympic sport and he’s won multiple world titles. He doesn’t even dry off before he picks up Hope and holds her against his chest. Their daughter instantly stops crying and though Emma can’t see her face, she has stared at it often enough to picture the beautiful blue Jones eyes staring up at her papa.
Instead, Emma gets a sight of Killian’s naked ass framed in the bathroom doorway before she reluctantly closes the shower curtain to keep the steam in. And, damn, Killian Swan-Jones has one fine ass.
By the time Emma makes it downstairs, Killian is making bacon, eggs and toast with one hand and cradling Hope with the other.
“Okay, you can’t do both of those things at once,” Emma orders. “Hand over the spatula or the baby.”
Killian looks back and forth as if she’s asked him to make Sophie’s Choice. Reluctantly, he gives her Hope, probably thinking about the time she almost set the house on fire before Christmas, and she takes her bright-eyed baby with a grin and a coo. Killian is quick to take her back when breakfast is ready and Emma doesn’t have the heart to stop him. He’s a wonderful dad. She’s pretty sure if he could breastfeed she would never get to hold her own kid. Emma grabs one of Hope’s feet, playfully nibbles on the pajama-covered toes, and then digs into her actual food.
“According to Smee, the sky fell while we were away, so if it is alright with you I shall go in straight away. Unless you need me-?”
Emma shakes her head and swallows a bite of bacon with the perfect level of crispiness. “No, I should be fine. Belle’s coming by in a little bit, so you’d miss that-”
Killian winces. “-It might be better if I’m not here, to be frank-”
“-And then Hope and I are gonna visit Grandma Ingrid at the gym. And I have a little stakeout-” Her husband’s eyes get as big as saucers and she hurries to finish her sentence “-of a cheating husband. Nothing dangerous.”
He harrumphs and she’s pretty sure if he didn’t have a million things to catch up on he’d be insisting that Hope go with him today. “Well,” he grumbles after a minute, “I cannot understand you bloody mortals. When one has secured a wife,” Killian sets down his fork and lays his hand on her jean-clad knee, “then why the buggering hell would you spend time anywhere without your mate?”
Emma’s heart warms and gets too big for her chest. This is the kind of shit Killian Swan-Jones says all the time. All. The. Time. She gives him a dopey smile because he’s managed to turn her sarcastic distrust into a pile of goo left on the other side of town, and she spears another forkful of egg.
“Okay, gimme back that baby,” she mumbles around her food. Emma never knows how to respond to his stupidly romantic declarations. He concedes, but probably only because Smee can be really needy, and in ten minutes he’s giving them both kisses - a gentle peck on Hope’s forehead, a passionate one for Emma, complete with a mutual marking - and rushing out the door.
“Well, Miss Hope, what do you want to do?”
Apparently, what Hope wants to do is sleep. At least that’s what her cranky whines seem to indicate. Emma brings her upstairs to the nursery for another diaper change and sits down on the glider to begin rocking her for a morning nap. Hope’s just fallen asleep - and Emma’s eyes are getting pretty droopy, to be honest - when the doorbell rings, startling Emma but, thankfully, not Hope.
Emma cringes the entire time she settles Hope into her crib and backs out of the room, expecting the spell of sleep not to last, but it does, and so with the baby monitor in one hand and an envelope from her office in the other hand, Emma steps downstairs and opens up the door to a very nervous-looking Belle French.
“Hey Emma,” Belle says with a shaky smile.
She’s got no idea what to say to her friend. Everything’s just gonna be the worst. Emma settles for wrapping her in a hug and holding her close until Belle pulls away. When she does, her eyes are sort of watery, and Emma pretends not to notice.
“Come on in. You want some coffee?”
Belle takes the squishy chair, because she’s got good taste in furniture, and once Emma has filled two mugs from the pot Killian made, she perches on the couch next to it, on the edge of her seat.
“How is he?”
Emma winces. “Are you sure you want to know?”
The way that Belle squares her shoulders and purses her lips - like a warrior ready for battle - Emma wishes the other woman didn’t have to brace herself for things like this. She wishes she could see more traces of the soft, kind hearted, carefree woman she had observed for a few weeks at the library all those months ago.
“Yes. I want to know. Tell me everything.”
Over the next hour, Emma details the investigation she’s been working on since Robert Gold disappeared - tracking him through the gossip and speculations of the supernatural world. The hard-won confessions Killian got out of his most loyal pack members, the interrogations Emma conducted with the wolves she tracked down and turned in. How even Belle’s limited knowledge of Gold’s work helped them narrow their search and track him down.
Emma explains the two weeks she, Killian, and Hope spent in hotels on the West Coast following hunches and partnering with local law enforcement and leaders in the supernatural communities. The planning that came to fruition with a federal team of wolves, witches, vampires, and sirens to set a trap for Gold and watch him take the bait.
She debates how much she should reveal about the final confrontation and her own disguise as Belle that had brought Gold close, allowing them to take him into custody. At the end, she tells it all, including the hard truth of the love and devotion she’d seen in Gold’s eyes those few seconds before he realized it was all a trick.
“The prison warden knows he’s a wolf and knows how dangerous he is. Killian spent like two hours going through all the security measures to make sure Gold won’t get out. And I don’t think he’s managed to make enough friends or scrounge up a pack that would break him out. It isn’t-” Emma sighs “-it isn’t perfect, and there’s a chance he could get out, but I think we’re gonna sleep a little better now knowing he’s locked away.”
The way Belle starts crying, Emma worries she said the wrong thing. Gold may have been the impetus behind all of Emma’s worst experiences, but Belle loves the guy, she had married him and mated with him and committed to him.
“Me too,” Belle confesses, wiping her eyes. “I know he would never hurt me but the thought of him hurting anyone else again…” She trails off in a flood of tears. As if she senses the emotions in the house, Hope chooses that moment to start fussing in her room. Emma looks at the woman falling apart in front of her and the little figure on the baby monitor. Going against her instincts, Emma reaches out and takes Belle’s hand.
“No, go get Hope, I’ll be fine in a minute,” Belle insists, taking her hand back to wipe her face. Emma takes the envelope from her back pocket and sets it on the coffee table.
“He wanted me to give you this letter. You don’t have to read it now - you don’t even have to read it at all - but I said I would deliver it.” Emma pats the envelope with her fingertips. “Hope’s gonna need to eat, so I’ll be down in about fifteen minutes. If you need to go, that's okay, I won’t be offended.”
She’s surprised to see Belle still on the chair when she returns with Hope in her arms. Her eyes are even more red and the envelope is open, with two folded pieces of paper resting on Belle’s lap. Emma readjusts her daughter in her arms and tries to figure out what to say. Emotional intelligence is more Killian’s realm.
“Want a drink?” she manages. Then, when Hope wriggles, she points at her daughter. “Or baby snuggles?”
Belle laughs a bit through her lingering tears and puts the letter into the purse by her feet. “Is that okay? I don’t think… It’s been a long time since I’ve held a baby.”
Shit. Between Killian’s helicopter parenting and her own frazzled mind, she hadn’t noticed that Belle had never held Hope before. She’s gotten so used to wolves just taking her daughter from her arms that she must not have noticed that Belle never took Hope or asked to hold her.
“Of course,” she says quickly. Emma grabs one of the ever-present burp rags to lay over Belle’s shoulder before she carefully deposits Hope in Belle’s arms. It doesn’t take werewolf senses to see that Belle is super tense at first, muscles stiff and eyes wide with concern. But Emma collapses onto the couch and watches the two of them for a minute, smiling when Belle begins to relax.
“I never told you, but I adore her name,” Belle says eventually, voice barely over a whisper, as she stares into Hope’s huge blue eyes.
“Yeah?”
“It’s so lovely.”
“I wondered if it was too cheesy.”
“No.” Belle’s voice is stronger now, regaining some of the courage she’s displayed over the past year. “I don’t think it’s cheesy at all. It’s beautiful. After everything that’s happened, this little girl is gonna remind everyone that we can always have hope.”
Emma is watching tv and nursing Hope when Killian comes home with two takeout containers from Granny’s and the biggest, sweetest smile on his face.
“How are my girls?” he asks.
“Pooped,” Emma confesses. “I shouldn’t have attempted a stakeout the day after we got back. I just felt bad I had to put the client off for so long while we dealt with Gold.”
Killian drops a kiss on her forehead, then, a little awkwardly, on Hope’s. “My private investigator with a tender heart.”
“And an empty stomach,” Emma grouses. She nods at the food on the coffee table. “You better eat fast, Papa, because once I’m done feeding this bottomless pit, I’m gonna need two hands for Ruby’s grilled cheese and onion rings.”
Over dinner, Killian gives an update on the progress with restarting the shipping business and Emma shares some of the details of Belle’s visit.
“Maybe with Gold officially locked up, Scarlet’ll find the courage to tell Belle how he feels.”
Emma freezes with an onion ring halfway to her mouth. “Wait, what? Will Scarlet? And Belle?”
Killian chuckles and the sound delights Hope, who lets out her own little coo. Her father’s face goes soft and he’s distracted for a minute, making more noises and making faces to get Hope to keep giggling and babbling. He returns to their conversation with a goofy grin.
“For an investigator you are not very perceptive, love. Will’s fancied her since our wedding, but he hasn’t dared hope she would reciprocate. Will Scarlet isn’t anything like Robert Gold after all.”
“Yeah, I think that’s a good thing.” Emma chews thoughtfully on her onion ring. “I hope he goes for it. I hope he takes a chance.”
Killian raises a significant eyebrow. “She might get hurt again. They both might. Scarlet has been unlucky in love himself.” He adjusts Hope in his arms and kisses her forehead.
After wiping grease off her fingers, Emma smooths the soft golden hair on Hope’s head and tucks herself under Killian’s other arm. “They might,” she muses. “Or maybe they’ll get lucky and find someone who’s gonna help them create that thing, ya know?”
His chuckle trickles her temple. “Praytell, what thing do you mean?”
Emma squirms, annoyed at herself for setting up something so damn cheesy. “You know. They might just get to make that happily ever after.” She burrows closer into Killian’s side. “Like we did.”
Killian’s arm tightens around her with a ferocity that takes away her breath, and when she turns her head and kisses him, she probably goes without oxygen for longer than would be medically advised. But this is it. Her happily-ever-after. The life she never even let herself dream about because she knew she’d just be disappointed or bitter. Or both.
But nights like these, with her puppy of a husband by her side, binging their latest tv series and trading their daughter back-and-forth, it's the sort of thing she always sort of wanted and never ever thought she’d get.
Emma releases a jaw-cracking yawn a few hours later and Killian declares it is time to retreat upstairs. He insists on cleaning up the living room while she makes her way to the nursery for a final feeding. Killian finds them in Hope’s room a few minutes later, Hope on the breast, her tiny and perfect eyelashes kissing her cheek, as Emma leans back on the glider Ingrid gave them. Some days Emma wonders if it has a spell on it to make babies sleepy, because it always does the trick for Hope.
Her husband gracefully settles on the floor by her feet, and when she pats her leg, he rests his head on her knee, a similar position and look in his eyes as the day they met in the animal shelter. Emma uses her free hand to run her fingers through his hair and his own eyelashes flutter before they close in peace.
“It’s good to be home,” Killian whispers.
One of the advantages of being home is having a room to lie your baby down in, a door to close, and your own private bed to crawl into. It’s an indulgence that Emma had missed desperately as they chased down Gold, and her own eyes close in peace this time. Killian curls his body around hers and nuzzles into her neck. Emma sighs.
Just as she is about to pass out, Killian’s hand leaves her stomach and slides beneath her sweatpants and underwear. Emma makes a noise that is half interest, half annoyance.
“She’s gonna wake me up again in a few hours.”
“And I shall change her and bring her here and rock her back to sleep,” he murmurs into the sensitive skin of her throat. “I shall take care of everything.” His fingers keep moving, dipping into her folds so he’s brushing softly against her clit. “Would you allow me to take care of you, love?”
The sleepy moan is all the consent he needs.
Emma falls into that place between sleep and wakefulness, one where her mate expertly teases her into an orgasm that wraps around her like a plush, warm blanket. Killian’s hot breath at her neck and his hard cock nudging at her ass bring her back to the world, more alert than when she first collapsed into the bed. His hand leaves her center, letting her underwear snap back into place, and the sound of him eagerly licking his fingers clean makes fresh moisture rush between her thighs.
“You’re so good to me,” Emma sighs, twisting her neck and reaching back to dig her fingers into his hair so she can pull him to her for a kiss, tasting herself on his tongue. “My good boy.” Killian’s hips rock forward involuntarily, settling in the cleft of her ass, and he moans into her mouth.
Ruby hadn’t given her the heads up about this - it was something she had discovered on her own. After mating with her and breeding her, her powerful Alpha husband melted back into the wolf puppy she had fallen in love with. Sometimes the possessiveness appears, but for the most part he lives to care for her, protect her, watch over her. Her pleasure always comes first and the gentle way he makes love to her often brings tears to her eyes. He soaks in her praise like an orchid in the desert, grateful for the halting words that she’s still struggling to say naturally.
“Can I give you a treat for being good?” she asks against his lips. This time, it is his own sleepy moan that gives her his consent. Emma twists and slithers down his body so she can tug off his pants and release his cock. It bobs proudly in the air and she only gives in a moment of admiration with her eyes before she admires it with her mouth. Soft kisses on the underside and wide licks all around and gentle sucks on the head before engulfing him completely.
“Bloody hell,” Killian chokes out, hips bouncing beneath her palms holding him in place.
She cares for him with the same tenderness he always shows for her, and when she pulls away with a final wet suck, he tries - and fails - to conceal his disappointment. Emma trails her kisses up his bare chest until she reaches his mouth, where she indulges in a slow, passionate makeout session.
“I want to feel you inside me. Is that okay?” she asks. His confusion melts away and he nods eagerly, eyes bright and excited, fingers tucking her hair behind her ear to trace the line of her jaw. Emma looks back at him for a long moment, caught up in how lucky and happy she is, before she remembers what she just said and wriggles out of her sweatpants.
Killian rolls over on top of her and she opens her thighs to receive him, grateful for the careful way he slides into her still-healing body. He takes her with slow rolls of his hips and his eyes barely blinking, an intensity that once would have scared her away. Instead, she luxuriates in knowing that she’s the center of his universe too. That she has a place and it's with him.
He begins to speak and it pulls her out of her musings.
“Some days I wonder when I’m going to wake up and find out this was all a dream. I half expect to find myself in that ruddy shelter or locked away in prison for life. I cannot believe,” Killian’s voice cracks and his rhythm falters and Emma pulls him close and flips them over, so now she sits astride him.
“You can’t believe this is real?” she tries to finish for him.
Killian shakes his head. “No, I can’t.” His hands rest on her hips as she picks up the pace, trying to chase that feeling, that high, that love. “How did I get so bloody lucky?” he groans.
“The feeling is mutual,” she mumbles, not half as eloquent as he is, but the smile he gives her says that’s he doesn’t care, that anything she says is enough, and when she tugs off her shirt, his eyes go right to her chest before his fingers carefully skim the lines of her nursing bra. Emma knows what he’s thinking. She slows her movements so she can pull off the bra and the way he moans is pornographic.
“Can I-?” he asks. Emma nods and leans forward. His lips wrap around a nipple and she lets out a shuddering sigh that seems to spur him on. Killian’s gentle suckling and the way he fills her as if he was made for her pushes her further and further to the edge, to that place where she’s cared for and loved beyond belief. She’s lost in the feeling and the scent and the touch of her mate. He switches to the other breast and her whimpers turn into a gasp when her milk lets down and that rush of oxytocin floods her system.
“I love you, Killian,” Emma breathes, cupping the back of his head and holding him close. His grip tightens on her hips, helping her ride him, and she relaxes further as his suckle gets stronger and the hormones rush through her body, bringing her emotions to the surface and making her nearly cry. “Fuck, I love you so much babe.”
Killian releases her nipple and encourages her to lean back so he can better touch her above where they’re joined, teasing and playing with her clit until she finally gives in to the sensation and explodes around him with a growl and a desperate babble of, “Keep going keep going keep going fuck. That feels so fucking good.” She’s on the other side of her orgasm, coming down from it when she leans forward again, knowing what he wants, and pulls his mouth back to her chest to whine, “Go ahead.”
He doesn’t have to be persuaded to drink deeply, almost to the point of pain, sending more of that oxytocin coursing through her, and she’s aware enough to say, “Good boy,” over and over and over again as he continues to thrust into her just the way she loves, giving her what she needs as she gives him what he needs.
Killian grows soft inside of her before he releases her nipple with a wet pop and, with a final grind, Emma stops moving and collapses on top of him. They stay that way for a long time, breathing slightly out of sync, his chest splattered with her milk and his cum leaking out of her and sweat everywhere else. Just… a mess. She almost falls asleep, sated and held in her mate’s arms, but he groans and combs his fingers through her hair, and she blinks back to awareness.
“I love you,” Killian murmurs.
“I love you too,” Emma murmurs back. She nuzzles into his neck and, gathering all of her energy, rolls off of him with a grunt. Emma waves her hand to wipe up the mess clinging to both of their bodies. She gropes in the dark for her nursing bra and pants so she’ll be ready for when Hope wakes up. The wakeup call is gonna be a bitch, but this was fucking worth it. It’s always worth it. Once dressed, she tucks herself back into Killian’s arms and sighs in contentment.
The lost little orphan girl that’s still inside of her sighs too. And she marvels, not for the first time, that she has found a home, a mate, a place to belong. Killian’s arms tighten around her and, in an action that’s now become a habit, she kisses the chest she’s resting her head on and gently marks his skin.
“Claiming your territory, love? I approve,” he teases quietly.
Before Killian, she didn’t have anything that belonged to her, any person that was hers. She was all alone. And she is fully aware that he took her into his life and his family just as much as she took him into her home and her heart. Emma nods into his chest and marks him again. “Just don’t want you to forget,” she teases back.
“Forget what?”
“That you’re my werewolf.”