Page 86 of Star-Crossed
The werewolf fluffed his neck fur and cleared his throat before hunkering down with paws lifted. “Get out of my house before I eat your liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti!”
“That’s not even your line.” Lyra snorted. “It was Hannibal Lecter’s. And PS, in the book, it’s fava beans and a big Amarone.” Her triumphant smile glowed blue beneath the blacklights.
Fuck, Cy was going to miss her.
The cart trundled toward the exit, leaving the befuddled lycanthrope in its wake.
Cy helped Lyra out of the cart and walked down the rickety stairs behind her, trying to soak in every last detail.
“Hey, Cy?” Lyra whispered, her breath warm against his ear.
“Uh-huh.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?” he asked.
“For tonight,” she said. “And last night. And for everything.”
She turned and slipped her arms about his waist, pressing her face into his billowing shirt.
“Anything for you,” he whispered into her crown, meaning every syllable.
They stayed like that for a length of time Cy couldn’t begin to measure, releasing each other only when foot traffic began to stream past them toward the dock.
“I think it’s time for the fireworks.” Taking her hand, Cy led her to a spot by the water where they could sit while they watched the display. As the first sparks exploded into the night sky and reflected off the water, he realized how perfectly it mirrored their own relationship—a dazzling, ephemeral burst too beautiful to last.
SEVENTEEN
Samhain
CELTIC CELEBRATION THAT IS THE ORIGIN OF HALLOWEEN.
Under the waning harvest moon,Lyra watched as Townsend Harbor residents spilled out of the Halloween carnival like a colorful parade. The scent of cotton candy mixed with firework smoke hung in the crisp air while children darted around in costumes, chattering excitedly about their candy hauls. She glanced at Cy at her elbow, who was deep in conversation with Vee and Myrtle, his dark eyes twinkling as he laughed.
“I remember when you and Ethan were little teen squirtles.” Myrtle jabbed at Cy’s ribs with a sigh of nostalgia. “Baby hoodlums trying to kick up trouble. It was so adorable, I could have squeezed your little cheeks until they exploded in my hands.”
At Lyra’s other elbow, Gabe bent down to mutter, “There are some things only old ladies can say with impunity.”
Chuckling, Lyra glanced over in time to spy Gabe’s phone screen, where his thumbs flew in a text conversation. The incoming message read:You suck more ass than your mom.
Flinching, Lyra looked up to see that Gabe had caught her peeking.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
Gabe gave one of hisI couldn’t give a fuckshrugs and kept typing a response.
“But don’t feed the trolls, bro,” Lyra advised. “This fucker doesn’t deserve the space in your head.”
“Nah.” Gabe chuckled, waving a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just reconnecting with Mark, my favorite brother. This is our love language.”
Lyra shared a mystified look with Gemma, who was tucked into Gabe’s other side.
“I just pasted his head on a picture of this big, hairy schlong.” He turned the phone for all to see and appreciate his work of art.
To their surprise, Myrtle laughed the loudest, while Vee said, “Should be criminal to shove all that pulchritude into one Irish family.”
Lyra had to admit, even pasted to an unfortunate dick pic, Gabe’s brother was, in a word,foine.
