Page 75 of Sy

Time slowed as the flowers arced overhead, spinning lazily through the reception hall’s lights. He tracked its trajectory with military precision and realized with sudden clarity that it was heading straight for?—

“Watch out!”

Zeke blinked at the incoming projectile, obviously calculating whether he should catch it or dodge. His momentary hesitation proved costly. Michelle erupted from her chair, broken leg andall, and snatched the bouquet right in front of his chest. Her triumphant bellow echoed around the hall as she thrust her prize into the air for all to see.

The humans exploded into chaos. Women who’d been poised to catch the bouquet themselves were now rushing Michelle, screaming congratulations.

Zeke stood frozen, one hand still half-raised, staring at Michelle with an expression that suggested he’d just witnessed either a miracle or a catastrophe—possibly both.

Kraath’s mouth fell open. “Did she just—with a broken leg?” For once, the tactical master seemed to have run out of analysis.

Ashley slipped back to Sy’s side, nestling against him with that satisfied little wiggle she did when she was happy. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “What was that all about?”

She grinned up at him, her face flushed with success. “The person who catches the bouquet at a wedding will be the next one to get married.”

Kraath’s brow furrowed deeper. “That makes no sense. It doesn’t account for established relationships or any other factors than luck as well as the weight and trajectory of the bouquet.”

“It’s all down to luck,” Ashley said with a wink, already tugging at Sy’s hand and dragging him into the center of the room. “Come on, let’s dance.”

He pulled her into his arms, resting his chin on her head as they swayed together. The reception continued to buzz around them, but his focus had narrowed to the warm weight of his mate against his chest. Still, his mind churned over the events, remembering the perfect arc of that throw. Weight… trajectory…

“You meant to hit Zeke. Didn’t you?”

“Yep.”

“But you knew Michelle would grab it. Didn’t you?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

She looked up at him, and her grin was pure mischief. “What good is being the bride if you can’t matchmake for your friends?”

He chuckled and kissed her temple, breathing in her scent. “You, mate of mine, are an absolute terror. But you’remyterror.”

She sighed, and he heard all her contentment in that single sound. “And don’t you forget it.”

Ashley’s heartstuttered as Sy opened the door to their quarters, his large hand wrapped around hers to pull her through the door with him.

Their quarters.

The thought still made her breath catch, but then she gasped at the sight before her. Warm candlelight danced across the walls, casting golden shadows that transformed the utilitarian space into something magical. Rose petals scattered the white sheets on the bed, and more candles lined every surface, their flames steady in the still air.

“Oh, Sy,” she whispered, overwhelmed as tears pricked at her eyes. She hadn’t expected this, hadn’t imagined he would do something so tender, so romantic.

When she turned to face him, the look in his eyes stole what little breath she had left. Desire and uncertainty warred in his expression, as if he wasn’t sure he’d done the right thing. As if he could ever be wrong about this. Words failed her completely then, inadequate to express the surge of emotion that welled up in her chest.

So she showed him instead.

She grabbed his shirt front and pulled him down to her, crushing her mouth against his. His surprised grunt meltedinto a groan as she pressed herself against him, trying to pour everything she couldn’t say into the kiss. His arms came around her instantly, one hand splaying across her lower back while the other tangled in her hair.

The kiss deepened and turned hungry. Her fingers curled tighter in his shirt as his tongue swept into her mouth, tasting of the wine they’d shared at dinner and something uniquely him. Heat bloomed low in her belly, spreading outward until her skin felt too tight, too sensitive. She needed more—needed all of him.

His hands slid down her sides, and she arched into his touch, desperate to feel more of him. Her fingers trembled with need and impatience as she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt.

One button. Then the second. And the third. Each revealed inch of skin was a victory, a treasure she couldn’t resist touching.

He broke the kiss to trail his lips down her neck, and her head fell back with a gasp. The scrape of his teeth against her pulse point sent electricity dancing across her skin. His breath came hot and fast against her throat as his hands found the zipper of her dress.

“Please,” she whispered, though she wasn’t sure what exactly she was begging for. Everything. Anything. Just more.

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