Page 57 of Semi-Fallen

We won, she signed.

“Fuck yeah, we won!” Benny shouted, giving Rion another boot to the head.

“Did you ever doubt it?” Harper asked.

Nope, never. She shot Lucien a faux stern look. I know you doubted it.

He captured her lips with his and kissed her breathless before pulling back and resting his forehead against hers. “I never doubted you for a minute.”

The room around them was clearly erupting with chaos, as they were bumped and nudged several times, and the movement in her peripheral vision was so wild she had to close her eyes. But none of it mattered. Her sole focus was on Lucien. Her mate.

Hers.

“We’re going to get our happily ever after, aren’t we?” she whispered against his lips.

The wide open smile he gave her promised long nights spent in each other’s arms, and a lifetime of heat, love, and joy. “You bet your ass we will.”

EPILOGUE

“I have a present for you.”

Lane sat up in bed and raised a brow at Lucien. Didn’t you just give me a present? Twice?

He shot her a faux stern look that would’ve weakened her knees had she been standing. But since she was naked, in bed, spent and sated after two mind-blowing orgasms, she was safe.

“Not that kind of present,” he said.

Too bad. That’s my favorite present.

“You’re incorrigible,” he said with a smirk as he stood up (while she blatantly checked out his ass since he was also stark naked) and grabbed something he’d tucked behind the dresser in his bedroom.

Correction. Their bedroom.

Her parents hadn’t been thrilled when she’d decided to leave Section 8 housing and move into Lucien’s house. Her mother really hadn’t been thrilled to learn Lucien was her fated mate and that she was ass-over-elbow in love with him, either. But the fact that he’d fought an archangel and defied Heaven for Lane had earned him a little leeway with Mischa.

Only a little, though. She’d still threatened important parts of Lucien’s anatomy with very creative threats of violence if he ever hurt her daughter. But then again, so had Riddick, Harper, Seven, Lucas, Quinn, Nikolai, and Tina.

Seven and Lucas’s threats had been fairly tame in comparison. Lucien had, after all, healed the bones Lucas had broken in his fight with Rion. It was kind of hard for them to hate him after that.

Only her father had grudgingly accepted Lucien without threat of death and dismemberment. Even though neither would talk about it, Lane imagined the road trip they took to visit Celeste had been a male bonding thing for them. Whatever the reason, Hunter had promised to put in a good word for Lucien with Mischa, which would make holidays and their weekly family dinners a lot less tense. Lane appreciated that more than she could express.

The other thing she really appreciated? The fact that Michael and Raphael had come to collect what was left of Rion after their battle and had deposited him into the deepest, darkest pit Lucifer had to offer. They hadn’t appreciated his attack on Section 8 after they’d told him to stand down.

Lane didn’t feel a bit sorry for him. That asshole could fuck off into the sun as far as she was concerned.

Lucien handed her a brown paper wrapped 8x10 package and sat down on the corner of the bed, watching her. He was nervous. His facial expression was neutral, but she could feel his energy, even though he was blocking her from reading his thoughts. She side-eyed him. Why was he blocking her?

He rolled his eyes. “Because it’s a surprise. If I let you read my mind, it’s not a surprise.”

That was entirely…plausible.

In that case…

Lane had always loved presents. Christmas wrapping paper, no matter how well taped and folded, never survived her questing hands and sharp fingernails for more than a second or two. This wrapping paper was no different.

What she found underneath that plain wrapper brought tears to her eyes.

It was an oil painting in a baroque frame. A portrait. It was in fantastic condition, but obviously very old. And she didn’t have to read Lucien’s mind to know who the subject of this portrait was.

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