David stared up at him as he came to the table, and then Cook put a hand on David's shoulder and leaned over him. There was a really—really—weird moment when David thought for a second that Cook was about to—was going to—and David's stomach squeezed into a tiny knot, but Cook was just reaching over to grab the jacket he'd left on his seat.

No way had Bobby pulled out some pair of real mystical amulets from nowhere and handed them over like crackerjack prizes.

"Yeah, you boys nailed that trickster real good," Bobby said, dry as dust.

"The king sent me to get you," Merlin said, with a tone that implied strongly that he wasn't rolling his eyes where Arthur could see, but just wait until his back was turned. "He said you're to get changed into formal clothes and meet him in the Great Hall, there's a delegation coming from the Summer Court."

Real Forever If: Excerpt:The main thing he'd been thinking, that whole last week, was that when it was over, he'd finally be able to breathe again. He didn't know what else could've been making him feel so weird, the awful tightness in his chest every time he was in the same room with Cook, the way his stomach just kept clenching up and jumping. Spellbound: in which cook gets his own prince.

Happiness comes unexpectedly.

The main thing he'd been thinking, that whole last week, was that when it was over, he'd finally be able to breathe again. He didn't know what else could've been making him feel so weird, the awful tightness in his chest every time he was in the same room with Cook, the way his stomach just kept clenching up and jumping.

“Sit down,” the doctor said. He took blood, three vials filling up dark red. “Any medical conditions?” “No,” Dom said, and then his mouth kept going and said, “What if I want to volunteer for bonding?” The doctor peered at him over the glasses. “Do you want to volunteer for bonding?” It hung in the air. Dom felt it like a noose around his throat, squeezing. Twenty-five to life. “Yeah,” he said.

“Sit down,” the doctor said. He took blood, three vials filling up dark red. “Any medical conditions?” “No,” Dom said, and then his mouth kept going and said, “What if I want to volunteer for bonding?” The doctor peered at him over the glasses. “Do you want to volunteer for bonding?” It hung in the air. Dom felt it like a noose around his throat, squeezing. Twenty-five to life. “Yeah,” he said.