Vibes.A modern slang word that accurately explains our bond. I pour out a pill and chuck it back, leaning into my seat at the same time. Clutching a fluffy pillow to my chest, I try to relax. Summer sends me these good vibes, though she’s also focused on the road, as she should be.
“I appreciate you,” I groan.
Keeping my eyes closed, I listen to the music Summer chose for this journey, calling it a road trip playlist. The first song was about a journey lasting five hundred miles and then five hundred more. Now it’s something slower, sweeter, the sound ofhallelujah. An apt word, even under these nauseating circumstances. Summer is by my side, soothing me as the Dramamine’s drowsiness takes effect, and I drift.
“We’re here.”
Startled—waking this way is still new to me—I stiffen, thrashing my arms outward, readying to attack whoever might assault Summer.
“You… okay?” Summer asks beside me.
I look past her and scan the hotel parking lot. There’s no threat. I relax my arms and respond. “Yeah, yes. Are you?”
She chuckles, opening her door. “Come on, let’s go check in! We don’t want to be late!”
The next few hours involve getting situated and greeting friends of Summer that are also here for the wedding. They’re all people she went to graduate school with, and they all know one another already. Being as cordial as I can, I try not to embarrass her, but people find me odd. I don’t talk like them and know the things they know. Not yet at least.
Summer and I came up with a backstory that I’m a foreigner, though we never tell them from where. If they ask, we make them guess.
Despite this, I make an effort to be nice—thoughtful even.
Because these are Summer’s people. Because Summer rightfully thinks it would be nice if I hadfriends.If only the concept of maintaining relationships withmorehumans did not make me more anxious than a car ride. By necessity, I have socialized with her parents, Hopkins’ friends, and the folk around town, constantly uncertain if my mannerisms are too aggressive or abrupt. Summer says I should just be myself. However, it’s difficult to read the emotions of anybody, to trust anybody—except for Summer.
Only they’re important, these humans, and I try asking them about their lives, building a better understanding of modern humans.
If community weren’t so important to Summer, I would as soon snarl at everyone until they left us alone. I would much rather be alone with my mate, wooing her, kissing her, and peeling off her clothes.
Once this is over, that is exactly what I will be doing.
Watching her dress for a rehearsal dinner, my mouth salivates as she strips to her undergarments, tiny white ones that make her look far more innocent than she is. She notices me staring in the mirror before her and gives me a sly smile.
“Zuriel, don’t,” she gasps as I stand and tug her dress out of her hands, pushing her against the reflective glass. “We don’t have time.”
“Then we best be quick.”
If there’s one medicine to make me feel right in this world, it is her. Dropping to my knees, I drag down her panties, shoving my face to her crux. She clutches my head, her fingers straining against my scalp.
I lick her wet, probe her with my fingers, and nip her clit, growling like a beast in a rut. When she begins to melt, unable to stand any longer, I lean back until I’m lying on the floor and pull her down to straddle my face. Quirking her clit into my nose, I thrust my tongue inside her until she comes, crying out my name. I drink her dry and spread her pussy with two of my fingers, pressing them inside of her. A reminder that my cock is coming later.
She flops with a moan, and I rise, taking her into my arms.
Kissing her clit one final time, I slide her panties back up her legs as she lies panting. Grabbing her little blue dress, I pull it over her, righting it as she catches her breath.
She peers up at me, flustered. “Damn you.”
With a playful growl, I zip up the back.
I’m hard, aroused, unsated. She’s going to have to deal with this all evening. Perhaps it is cruel, but it will make the next few hours interesting for me.
We leave the hotel and walk to the museum where the rehearsal will take place. When she leads me to a large, ornate building with steps and giant columns, I am awed. We’re ushered to a side room by one of the attendants inside. With everything so grand and overwhelming, Summer has to tug me by the sleeve to keep me moving.
“We can explore later,” she promises.
Summer quickly introduces me to Ella’s parents before leaving me to join the others. Sitting in one of the chairs at the back, I peer around, taking in the hard but graceful lines of the architecture surrounding me, my gaze drawn to the distant artwork, eager to examine each piece closer as Summer and a group of others gather at the front.
This museum is different from Hopkins’ in every way. I had expected something cramped with the lingering aroma of old books.
Summer glances at me and smiles, and I can sense her excitement, her joy. Her love. It rushes through me, lightening my heart, settling me more than the blush of lust painting her cheeks. I shift my cock lower, glad to have her purse to hide my bulge behind.
