Page 6 of Edge of Stars

Bigger than I really want to be reminded of.

But forgetting isn’t an option. Not the show that Veronica has staged, and certainly not the summit that Kara and I have coordinated on our secret burner phones. Flames that already feel too damn hot…

I react to the thought by sliding a nervous finger under my collar and tie. If I were only here for the chance to declare my love for my sweet little demon, my sweat count would be sliced in half. But that’s not going to happen. Not when both of us know our wedding might be humanity’s last chance for survival.

Thank God for this private moment we managed to grab…

Though once the door opens and she steps through, illuminated by the sun that’s dipped low enough to limn her from behind, I instantly rethink my reticence about all the folklore.

It’s got to be mocking heaven if one is marrying an angel.

That’s it. That’s the word for every dazzling inch of the female consuming my gaze now, in the gown that looks spun by spectral seamstresses just for her. From the sparkling accents that hug her neck to the bodice that tapers down her torso to the flounces of fabric swirling her hips and legs, she sucks the air from all my cells and the thoughts from all my synapses. Every conclusion except one.

Demons truly are the angels who got pushed out of paradise.

Maybe, I muse, it was because of jealousy. What seraph wouldn’t want an eternity of standing next to this beauty? Her eyes, aglow like dew diamonds in the sun. Her skin, smooth as tawny clouds in that same light. Her hair, tumbling like ebony rivers around that idyll. But the best of all, her smile: a curve of open adoration and unending love that has me doubting my initial observation.

Maybe the demons were never forced out of heaven at all. Maybe they’re just selective about who gets to see the whole kingdom. Best of all, with her as guide.

I’m ready for the full tour.

I show her so by taking the first step. At the same time, reaching out for her. My arms aimed nowhere else. My sights fixed on nothing else.

My heart bursting from no other sound than her voice, rich and silky.

“Good afternoon, Professor Maximus.”

“And what a damn good one it is, Miss Valari.” My own tone is thick as I cup hands to her waist and draw her closer. Then dip my head to capture her lightly glossed lips…

Until a light snicker tethers me back.

Not Kara’s. Because at once she’s biting out, “Seriously?”

“Sorry.” Kell is recognizable even before I can fully see her. “I mean it. I was just thinking…that’s probably the last time you’ll hear it. Miss Valari. It’s bittersweet. And if I don’t laugh, I’ll do that other emotional thing. Not cool after an hour getting all this done.” She flows a hand, ta-da style, in front of her face. “Which I’ll serve up as your cautionary tale, groom guy. Mess up your girl too much here, and people will know you’ve been laughing at fate.”

I’m ready to snort something glib about desperate writers and fanciful children, but Kara lifts a more rueful smile my way. “She’s probably right.” Her fingertips follow the trajectory of her stare, trailing into both sides of my beard. “Especially because you look good enough to wreck right now…”

She gives way to a staccato sigh, communicating meanings that braid with my hoarse moan. But that’s not the worst of the torment. Damn her, the woman adds a tiny lick along my bottom lip, striking flint to stone for a solid spark all the way to my groin.

I roll both hands down to her backside, uncaring if I knock every sparkle loose from her ass. I need to feel her form against mine. To revel in the shivers that are overtaking her too. The arousal that stutters into her every breath…

“Annnd that’s it.” Kell’s declaration is a good friend and worst enemy at once. “Chain’s being yanked, wrecking ball. Rubble isn’t pretty.”

Kara moves back with a low huff. “Rrrrmph. Speak for yourself, killjoy.”

A similar sound vibrates from Kell. “What happened to the part where I’m right?”

“Where you’re what, now?” Again, the interjection doesn’t belong to Kara—nor to the sister practically tapping her foot in wait for an answer. The words are urbane, unruffled, and male. “Aren’t stalactites supposed to just hang there and be pretty?”

Another growl from Kell, twice as irked as before. “I told you,” she spits at Kara before her peeved pout toward the closet’s newest arrival. “And fuck off.”

“Well, I’d rather be fucking on something, darling Kell. Or someone…if you know any volunteers?”

I lean forward, making sure Prieto sees my clenched jaw. “If you’re looking for ways to get your ring back on her finger, that’s not it, man.”

Prieto’s smirk fades at the same rate that Kell’s quirks up. “Nice work, brother,” she croons my way. “And I was just going to say he’s been dipping into the paint restoration resin again.”

A long sniff expands her fiancé’s aquiline nose. “Hmmm. But better the resin than sweet Clio’s bedsheets, yes?”