She preferred that hat to the fancy suit, actually.
To her shock, Hunt didn’t protest when a reveling air sprite floated past, crowning him and then Bryce with glow-stick necklaces made from firstlight. Bryce removed the plastic tube of light and looped it into a bracelet snaking up her arm. Hunt left his hanging over his chest, the light casting the deep muscles of his pectorals and shoulders in stark relief. Gods spare her.
Hunt had only taken one step into the living room when Tristan Flynn’s voice boomed from the foyer behind them: “The fuck, Ruhn!”
Bryce snorted, and through the crowd she spied the Fae lord at one end of the beer pong table on which he’d painted an image of an enormous Fae head devouring an angel whole.
Ruhn stood at the other end of the table, both middle fingers raised to his opponents, his lip ring glinting in the dim lights of the foyer. “Pay up, assholes,” her brother said, the rolled cigarette between his lips bobbing with his words.
Bryce reached a hand for Hunt, fingers grazing his downy soft wings. He went rigid, twisting to look at her. Angels’ wings were highly sensitive. She might as well have grabbed him by the balls.
Face flushing, she jabbed a thumb toward her brother. “Tell June and Fury I’ll be there in a sec,” she called over the noise. “I want to say hi to Ruhn.” She didn’t wait for Hunt to reply before wending her way over.
Flynn let out a cheer as she appeared, obviously well on his way to being smashed. Typical Tuesday night for him. She considered sending a photo of his wasted ass to his parents and sister. They might not sneer so much at her, then.
Declan Emmett appeared slightly more sober as he said from Flynn’s side, “Hey, B.”
Bryce waved, not wanting to shout over the crowd gathered in what had once been a dining room. It had recently been transformed into a billiards and darts room. Absolutely fitting for the Crown Prince of the Valbaran Fae, Bryce thought with a half smile as she sidled up to the male beside her brother. “Hi, Marc.”
The towering leopard shifter, all sleek muscle beneath his dark brown skin, peered down at her. His striking topaz eyes sparkled. Declan had been seeing Marc Rosarin for a month now, having met the tech entrepreneur during some fancy party at one of the big engineering companies in the Central Business District. “Hey, Princess.”
Flynn demanded, “Since when do you let Marc get away with calling you Princess?”
“Since I like him better than you,” Bryce shot back, earning a clap on the shoulder from Marc and a grin from Ruhn. She said to her brother, “A small get-together, huh?”
Ruhn shrugged, the tattoos along his arms shifting. “I blame Flynn.”
Flynn lifted his last beer up in acknowledgment and chugged.
“Where’s Athalar?” Declan asked.
“With June and Fury in the living room,” Bryce said.
Ruhn waved his greeting to a passing partier before he asked, “How was the ballet?”
“Awesome. June killed her solos. Brought the house to its feet.” She’d had chills along her entire body while her friend had danced—and tears in her eyes when Juniper had received a standing ovation after finishing. Bryce had never heard the CCB so full of cheering, and from Juniper’s flushed, joyous face as she’d bowed, Bryce knew her friend realized it, too. A promotion to principal was sure to come any day now.
“Hottest ticket in town,” Marc said, whistling. “Half my office would have sold their souls to be there tonight.”
“You should have told me,” Bryce said. “We had a few extra seats in our box. We could have fit them.”
Marc smiled appreciatively. “Next time.”
Flynn began reracking the beer pong cups, and called to her, “How are Mommy and Daddy?”
“Good. They fed me a bottle of milk and read me a bedtime story before I left.”
This earned a chuckle from Ruhn, who had once again become close with Ember. Her brother asked, “How many interrogations since they got here last night?”
“Six.” Bryce pointed to the foyer and living room beyond. “Which is why I’m going to go have a drink with my friends.”
“Open bar,” Declan said, gesturing magnanimously behind him.
Bryce waved again, and she was off. Without Hunt’s imposing form, far fewer people turned her way. But when they did … pockets of silence appeared. She tried to ignore them, and nearly sighed with relief when she spied a familiar pair of horns atop a head of gracefully curling hair tucked into Juniper’s usual bun. She was seated on the stained living room sectional, thigh to thigh with Fury, their hands interlaced.
Hunt stood before them, wings held at a casual angle as he talked with her friends. He looked up as Bryce entered the living room, and she could have sworn his black eyes lit.
She reined in her joy at the sight as she plopped onto the cushions beside Juniper, cuddling close. She nuzzled June’s shoulder. “Hi, my talented and brilliant and beautiful friend.”
Juniper laughed, squeezing Bryce. “Right back at you.”
Bryce said, “I was talking to Fury.”
Juniper smacked Bryce’s knee, and Fury laughed, observing, “Already acting like a prima donna.”
Bryce sighed dramatically. “I can’t wait to see June throw temper tantrums about the state of her dressing room.”
“Oh, you’re both horrible,” Juniper said, but laughed along with them. “One, I won’t even have a dressing room to myself for years. Two—”
“Here we go,” Fury said, and when June made a noise of objection, she only chuckled and brushed her mouth over the faun’s temple.
The casual, loving bit of intimacy had Bryce daring a glance toward Hunt, who was smiling faintly. Bryce avoided the urge to fidget, to think about how that could so easily be them, cuddling on the couch and kissing. Hunt just said, voice gravelly, “What can I get you, Quinlan?” He inclined his head toward the bar in the rear of the room, barely visible with the crowds mobbing the two bartenders.
“Whiskey, ginger beer, and lime.”
“You got it.” With a mockery of a salute, Hunt stalked off through the crowd.
“How’s the whole no-sex thing going for you, Bryce?” Fury asked wryly, leaning forward to peer at her face.
Bryce slumped against the cushions. “Asshole.”
June’s laugh fizzled through her, and her friend patted her thigh. “Remind me why you two aren’t hooking up?”
Bryce peered over the back of the couch to make sure Hunt still stood at the bar before she said, “Because I am a fucking idiot, and you two jerks know that.”
Juniper and Fury snickered, the latter taking a sip of her vodka soda. “Tell him you’ve changed your mind,” the merc said, resting the glass on her black leather-clad knee. How Fury could wear leather in this heat was beyond Bryce. Shorts, T-shirt, and sandals were all she could endure with the sizzling temperatures, even at night.
“And break our bargain before Winter Solstice?” Bryce hissed. “He’d never let me live it down.”
“Athalar already knows you want to break it,” Fury drawled.
“Oh, he totally knows,” Juniper agreed.
Bryce crossed her arms. “Can we not talk about this?”