The demon’s unhelpful words hang in the air, and Pink shifts in his seat, his hand twitching beneath mine. But it is Sammy who huffs out in exasperation, “And?”
The demon’s dark eyes track around everyone in the room, his expression unhurried and unreadable. It is hard not to shudder as his gaze briefly meets my own. Slowly, he turns his attention back to Sammy.
“They are fucking,” he says flatly.
A collective exhale of relief ripples through the room.
Pink sighs audibly, the tension draining from his body. Sammy grins like a Cheshire cat. Lello steps back from Carter, though he keeps a firm grip on his hand. He smiles at the demon while wiping tears from his eyes.
“They didn’t want me to watch,” Gray adds, his tone almost petulant.
Sammy lets out a loud snort of a laugh. “I’m sure Mal will take you to the sex club so you can perv all you like.”
A grin slowly spreads across the demon’s face, and his jet-black eyes light up. His dark magic surges, and then he is gone.Vanished, as if he was never here. This time, I can’t suppress my shudder.
Demons, even incubi, are terrifying. But I am going to have to get used to Gray if I want a permanent and meaningful place in Pink’s life. It wouldn’t do to be scared of one’s brother-in-law.
Pink moves to stand, and I instinctively step back to give him space. He turns to face me, his hand still holding mine.
“This is wonderful,” he exclaims, his face alight with joy.
I nod enthusiastically as my heart skips a beat at the warmth of his touch. Then I realize he is talking about Ned and Morgan resolving their difficulties, and not about us holding hands. But my nodding fits the situation. I’ve escaped a social faux pas and Pink will never know what I was truly thinking.
Pink beams up at me. He is even more beautiful when he is happy. It is enough to take my breath away. It is intense enough to inspire my soul to devotion. Pink should always be happy. At all times. For the rest of his life. I want to devote myself to ensuring that happiness is all he ever knows.
“We should celebrate!” I say as wonderful inspiration strikes.
Pink chuckles, his laughter a melodic sound that makes my chest ache in the best way. His gorgeous eyes light up with glee.
“What did you have in mind?” he teases, playing along. He clearly remembers that this is exactly how I asked him out for our first date.
“There’s a new exhibition at the museum’s art gallery,” I suggest, my voice steady despite the nerves bubbling beneath the surface. “We could check it out and grab coffee afterward.”
Pink’s smile widens, his entire face lighting up. “Like a date?” He says, sticking to this script we’ve somehow created between us. It is wonderfully intimate and I am going to cherish it forever.
“Exactly like a date,” I confirm, my heart thundering in my chest.
“Sounds fantastic,” Pink says, and I couldn’t agree more.
Chapter twenty
Pink
The museum’s grand facade beckons ahead as we walk side by side. The crisp evening air carries the faint scent of rain, and the soft background hum of city sounds is providing an almost musical accompaniment. I’ve always loved the quiet reverence of the museum. It feels like stepping into a sanctuary of beauty and thought, where the weight of the outside world fades away. But tonight, my thoughts aren’t excited about the exhibits or the history within the walls. My focus is entirely on Monty.
His presence is a steady, comforting warmth beside me. The way he glances at me, soft and attentive, as if I’m the only thing in the world that matters, sends a thrill through me that I don’t quite understand.
I think I should pinch myself to make sure this is real. I’m on a date with Monty. Again. It really is too good to be true.
The grand glass doors of the museum gleam under the streetlights. Monty opens one with a gentlemanly flourish,gesturing for me to go ahead. “After you,” he says with a small, teasing bow.
I can’t help but smile. “Such chivalry,” I quip, stepping inside.
The quiet hum of the museum wraps around us. The gallery space is a perfect blend of modern design and classic charm, with polished dark wooden floors and high ceilings adorned with subtle, intricate carvings. The exhibition focuses on abstract interpretations of human emotion. The first room features large, sweeping paintings that seem to pulse with vibrant energy. Colors merge and clash, creating a visceral sense of movement that seems to speak directly to the soul.
Monty walks beside me, his hands clasped behind his back as he studies the first piece. It is a chaotic swirl of reds and blacks, each brushstroke filled with raw intensity. “What do you think it’s trying to say?” he asks.
I tilt my head, letting my eyes trace the jagged strokes. “Anger, maybe? Or fear. There’s so much movement. It feels like someone trying to break free.”
