Page 13 of The Grip of Death
“I love you and your enormous balls, Jackson Pryde.”
I burst out laughing, but hugged him harder, pressing another quick kiss against his cheek. He slipped away with a little whine, pushing off my chest. I knew it was because I’d dared to besmirch the perfect canvas of his freshly scrubbed skin with my incredibly sexy beer-stained lips. When I licked them, I thought I could catch the faint taste of something that reminded me of his cleanser.
Xander’s hair was pushed out of his face and laid flat against his scalp by one of those cloth headbands, the type that looked like they belonged on a tennis player’s head but were used for skincare routines instead. That Xander even had a skincare routine to begin with had been such a shock when we first started sleeping together.
I should have expected it, given his preference for that super expensive French shampoo. His multi-step routine almost reminded me of a complex arcane ritual. Worlds away from my own, which involved my hands, some water, and if I was feeling especially frisky, a guest appearance from a bar of soap.
I undid my pants, kicking them off when they dropped around my ankles, then all but yanked my shirt over my head, leaving myself in just a skintight pair of black boxer briefs.
Xander’s eyes cut from my face, down to my torso, to the bathroom, and back. Without using any words, and in an impressively snarky way, he’d just asked if I was planning to wash up before bed.
“I was clean when we left the house today,” I said, holding my chin up defiantly. “And I’m pretty sure I’m clean right now, unless you’re worried I picked up some Court of Summer cooties in the Verdance.”
Relishing in the judgmental coldness of his stare, I threw myself on top of our bed, stretching out luxuriously, my hands behind my head as I sank into the pillows.
“Besides,” I purred. “You like it when I’m a little dirty.”
Xander wrinkled his nose to hide a very obvious tickled smile. “You’re disgusting.”
“Exactly.” I waggled my eyebrows. “Just the way you like me.”
“Whatever,” Xander said, rolling his eyes, the titillated smile still barely concealed in the curve of his mouth. “The point is, this just raised all the stakes. I mean, a wedding in a castle, Jack! We’re tying the knot in the palace of the Summer Court.”
I shrugged. “So? What’s the big deal? All we have to do is tell all our vendors and suppliers — most of them our friends — that we’re changing venues. They’ll be so excited to hear it, too. No sweat. You think anyone’s going to miss out on an opportunity to check out the Verdance? No chance.”
The mattress dipped as Xander dropped himself butt-first onto the covers. He ran his fingers through his still-damp hair, his eyes slicing up and down my body as he threw me one last judgmental look.
“But a human wedding at the Palace of Briars! It’ll be the wedding of the decade, Jack. Of the century. Of the millennium! I mean, no pressure.”
I blinked, taking a moment to study his face. “It sounds like the only one feeling any pressure here is you.”
The change was subtle, only the littlest twitch in the corner of one eye. But I knew I’d cracked him.
“Because it’s bananas, Jack! What would people say if our wedding flopped? The only human wedding to take place in the royal seat of the high fae, possibly ever. The first and last.”
I shrugged again. “Oberon seems like a really cool guy. All our friends love us. What’s the worst that could happen? That weflub a line in our vows? That dinner service starts five minutes too late?”
And then it happened, the creasing of his forehead, the adorable angry wrinkling of his nose. I knew a tirade was coming, but I was braced for the worst.
“Jack, you — the worst that could happen? Where do I even begin?”
I folded my hands across my belly and offered him my sweetest, most relaxed smile. This was part of why Xander and I worked so well together. We could always count on one to be chill and levelheaded about something while the other one was allowed all the time and space to freak the fuck out.
He lifted his forefinger — item one on the docket — and smacked it against the palm of his other hand. “Master Lobelia. What if she gets offended that we’re moving the wedding from the Garland? After she offered us the best pavilion for free, too.”
“Oh, please. She was just as excited to visit the Verdance for the first time as either of us. And she’s the Tender of the Garland. In what realitywouldn’tshe enjoy spending time in a world filled with strange and wondrous plants?”
Xander’s mouth opened, then closed again as he considered his next point. I tried not to look so smug. We had all night, and I was more than happy to shoot down all of his manufactured nightmare scenarios.
Letting him ride out this wave of self-inflicted terror felt like the right move, first because it was cute to see him struggle sometimes. Might be a little mean, but there was something sweet about the sight of a flustered Alexander Wright, always so perfect and proper otherwise. And second, because it would do him good to get the tension out of his system.
“What about the music?” he asked.
I waved my hand. “Provided by the Palace of Briars. They’ve got their own bards. I think we’re just providing a playlist.Sparrowheart says they know enough about human music that they’re confident about doing covers. Isn’t that wild?”
His nostrils flared as he prepared another shot. “And the cocktails?”
“Remember Bruna Hernandez? The alchemist from the Wispwood? She’s working with a fae brewmaster from the Court of Summer to concoct a drinks list. Says he’s pretty hot. It’s her wedding gift for us. Isn’t that sweet?”
