for. Their amusement is contagious.
“You’ll get better, and I think your wings are beautiful,” Iceman tells me, a cold finger grazing over the top of them. I nearly jump out of my shoes at the sensation, making him snap his finger back. “Apologies.”
“No, don’t be sorry,” I say quickly. “It just...it was sensitive. I wasn’t expecting it.”
He shares a loaded, full-of-heat look over my head with Jerif, but neither of them say a word. My stomach tightens, but in a good way this time. I suddenly feel nervous, like I’m on a first date and I’m wondering if I’m going to get a first kiss. Will it be good? Will we have chemistry? I mean, in my dreams we definitely do, but that shit’s never real life.
In real life, the salad you ate for dinner so that you wouldn’t look like a pig gives you gas, and then you rip an SBD in the car on the way to the epic doorstep scene you’ve been envisioning in your head all night. He looks at you, you look at him...you both know who tainted the precious air in the car, and screaming, the one who smelt it dealt it just isn’t going to cut it in that scenario.
Would the four of them be the kind of guys that laugh? Would it become one of many stories over time that bond you and set the foundation for beautiful intimacy? Or would they crack the windows, hold their breath, and peel away with screeching tires just as soon as you’re out of their car, the magic of the night ruined?
We weave through the crowd toward the main house silently. Iceman leads the way, Jerif stays right behind me, while Crux and Echo stay on each side of me. Our movements are in sync, connected by an invisible thread as we part the crowd in search of a peaceful place to just be together.
I’m surrounded by the Gate Guardians’ strength again, and I feel right in a way I was too nervous and insecure to admit before. I have so much I want to talk to them about. I want to make sure they’re okay, run my hands over them to be sure all of this is real. And at the same time, what is there really to say to each other?
We’re all battle forged now, different and tempered, because of what we went through. I feel it. They feel it. No amount of talking can change the charge in the air between us now. We all know what it felt like to think we’d lost it all.
Large demons guard all the entrances that lead into the house. As we get closer, I wonder if they’ll let us in or not. Iceman approaches a set of demons guarding a pair of ostentatious French doors. At first, one of the door demons looks like he’s about to redirect Iceman and crew, but as soon as they spot me in the middle of the group, they quickly open the doors with a respectful nod, letting us inside.
As soon as the doors shut behind us, the noise drops dramatically. My ears ring like I’ve been at a concert in front of the large speakers all night long. I shove a finger in one of my ears and wiggle it like that will help, but I should know better from the gong sound in Hell that it doesn’t.
“Damn, how is half of Hell not deaf? That noise level is crazy out there,” I comment, looking up to find Iceman staring at me intensely.
I open my mouth to ask him what’s wrong, but before I can, he closes the distance between us, cups my cheeks in his hands and lowers his full blue lips to mine.
I’m stunned at first.
My eyes fall closed, and I give into the feeling. His mouth is soft against mine, and he threads his fingers into my hair like every girl dreams a man will at some point in their life, his touch loosening the pony tail as he caresses my scalp. He cradles my jaw like I’m something he finds infinitely precious, and gently tilts my head, encouraging me to open up for him.
I respond immediately, pressing into him, my hands greedily tracing the planes of his abdomen. His mouth claims mine, his kiss asking if I’m okay, his touch reassuring him that I’m here in his arms. I taste him and suck on his lips, teasing his tongue with my own, floored that