Page 125 of Gathered Sparkle

“And yet, here we are,” he quips, putting his hands on my hips to help me hop in.

With a laugh, I slide into the seat, still clutching the photo. I keep glancing down at it the entire ride, tracing the outlines of our smiles, the joy captured by that silly machine. My anxiety is surprisingly quiet. It’s like my mind is too busy replaying the last few minutes, the absurdity, the sweetness, to let fear take the wheel.

When we pull up to the mansion, Sylus hops out first, grabbing my bag and purse without a word. I climb out after him with my box, holding it carefully in my hands as we head inside, making our way to the second floor. Instead of going to his bedroom, he continues down the hall to a door I’ve never seen open.

“Wait here,” he softly commands as he opens it and steps inside, setting my bag down on the floor and my purse on the bed.

I linger in the hallway, peeking in hesitantly. It’s a guest room, neutral colors, simple decor.

Sylus takes the box from my hands, placing it on the dresser next to the door. He turns to find me still standing at the threshold, an eyebrow raised.

“Where are we?”

“Your new room,” he says matter-of-factly. “At least for now. Ric figured you’d want your own space if you’re going to be around us all the time until shit goes down.”

I blink. Of course, Ace would think of that. He knows me too well—knows how much I value even a sliver of independence. It’s thoughtful, so typically him.

But the truth is, being with them, being in their rooms, surrounded by them, their teasing, their heat, doesn’t bother meat all. Not in the way I thought it might. Instead, it’s a balm to the raw edges of loneliness I’ve carried for so long.

This sense of belonging, of being part of something bigger than myself, is what I’ve missed most in the last eight years. For the first time in forever, I don’t feel like I’m simply existing.

I’m… home.

Fuck.

Sylus sweeps me up into a bridal carry, making me squeal in surprise.

“What the hell are you doing?” I laugh, swatting at his shoulder.

“Carrying my bride over the threshold,” he replies with mock seriousness, kicking the door closed behind him. “You know, tradition and all that.” He sets me back down on the floor before flopping on the bed, legs splayed out. “Wanna consummate this union now, or do I have to wait for our honeymoon?”

I snort, grabbing my purse from next to him and digging through it for lip balm. “Patience,hubby.You’re already getting all the benefits of a marriage without the divorce papers.”

“Have some mints in here?” He reaches over and snatches my purse out of my hand, rummaging through it like a raccoon in a trash can. I let him dig, rolling my eyes as he mutters commentary to himself.

“A wallet, some glitter, a half-eaten granola bar… Jesus, Sparkle, is this from the Ice Age?” He pulls out a small tin, rattling it next to his ear. “Jackpot.”

“You don’t want one of those.”

“Why not?” He squints at the tin like he’s just uncovered contraband. “Are they drugs? Adderall? Am I married to a secret drug dealer?”

“You lunatic.” I chuckle, coming to stand in front of him. “They’re mints.”

He pops the lid open, peering inside. “What’s the catch, then?”

“They’re… very sour. Like,make-your-mouth-water-like-crazysour.”

“Oh, for when you get a fuzzy mouth from weed?”

“Nope.” I grin, popping theP.

He gives me a side-eye, clearly waiting for more. I draw it out, biting my lip, then drop my voice to a husky whisper. “Wanna get the best, sloppiest blowjob of yourentirelife?”

His jaw drops, and his eyes go wide while they glaze over with pure, unfiltered lust. “Holy shit.Yes. Please.”

“Since you ask so nicely.” I grab a mint from the box and slip it onto my tongue. The sourness hits immediately, a burst of citrus floods my mouth with saliva and my cheeks hollow.

Sylus watches me with rapt attention, his chest rising and falling faster now. I part my lips, letting him see the way my mouth is already pooling with spit.

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