Page 227 of Devious Lies (Cruel Crown)
“You were not, and you’ll pay for lying.” I swat her ass once before leaving, turning back in time to see her wink at me.
“I’d expect nothing less.”
Reed and Gideon are at the entrance of the yurt, waiting for Emery. I nod at them both and take everything in.
Tromsø, Norway is the kind of place you visit for the first time and never want to leave. Emery fell in love when we flew here last year to balter under the stars and Northern Lights, so I popped the question with the ring I’d been keeping in my pocket.
Above me, the emerald, blue, yellow, and pink streaks fight for dominance in the sky. It’s the same mating dance each time.
Our first time in Tromsø, we star-gazed every night. (I stared at Emery. She stared at the sky.) She always rooted for the lilac, but the emerald won every time.
I asked her why it matters.
She squeezed my hand and said, “The lilac reminds me of your dad. When I painted the cottage mailbox black, Virginia yelled at me for not behaving like a lady. Your dad patted my head and told me, It’s okay. I’ll like the pink for you.” She stared up at the sky as if her attention would spark more life into the lilac. “I guess I want the underdog to win this time.”
It looks like it’s no different tonight, the emerald swaying, nudging all the other colors out of its path. In front of me, a sea of floating candles leads to our makeshift altar of crimson rose petals scattered across the snow.
I wait for her amidst the roses. It takes longer than I anticipated, or maybe I’m just impatient to marry the fuck out of her already. Delilah stands beside me, laughing at my mom, who’s already crying.
Reed is the first to leave the yurt. Delilah swallows her snort. He strolls down the aisle with a black bouquet of roses cradled between two palms until he’s directly across from her.
“Shit, it’s cold. Does anyone else feel their balls shriveling up?” Reed mutters, even though—aside from me—the only other human male within hearing distance is Tiger Bro (short for Broduski). He’s the vegan, tie-dye shirt-wearing spiritual guide Emery hired to marry us.
We ignore Reed.
Dermot Kennedy’s version of “Lover” plays from white speakers hidden in the snow. Wind whips thousands of rose petals into the air. They fly around Emery as she walks past rows of floating candles, an arm clutched to Gideon.
The Northern Lights turn her skin different colors, lighting up the lace gown she wears, the same black color as starless nights. A crown of black crystals, gray moonstones, and dark gray diamonds sits on her untamed hair, attached to a massive black veil.
She looks like a goddess come to life.
Durga walking this very earth.
A tiger roaming her territory.
When Gideon places her hand in mine, I press a kiss to her knuckles and part the veil, taking in her face.
“You changed,” I accuse.
“I knew you’d sneak in and see my dress.” She lifts a brow, daring me to argue.
I can’t. She’s right. I lasted an hour before I dipped into the yurt to, well, dip my dick inside her yurt.
Tiger Bro begins the ceremony.
I say my vows as a rare gold overtakes the emerald in the sky. When it’s her turn to say her vows, she stands on her tiptoes and whispers in my ear.
One word.
A secret for us to share.
Ya’aburnee.
I have no fucking idea what it means.
She doesn’t elaborate, just smiles a secret smile that makes me love her more. A second later, she slams into me, knocking me against Tiger Bro as she presses her lips against mine. I swipe a hand out, blindly pushing Tiger Bro away. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I drag my tongue against her lips.
Emery grazes her teeth along my bottom lip. I want to lay her down on this snow, strip her bare, and lick a path from her toes to her lips.
