“You’re going to shoot me?” I gasp melodramatically, placing a hand on my heart and another on my forehead, fake crying a little to make it all the more heart-breaking.
A faithful lover turned enemy over a game of paintball.How.Very. Tragic.
“Shut up, idiot. I came to kiss you before the game ended, but now I’m rethinking it.” Angel chuckles, quickly pressing a soft kiss to my lips when a loud alarm goes off and the team running the game walks in.
I don’t have a problem with the team. I mean, I didn’t until this particular woman walked right into my Angel’s personal space like they were old friends.
“Hello again, handsome! We have the scores ready. You sure you don’t want me to bump you up.” She laughs in a high-pitched nasally voice, keeping her entire focus on him as if I’m invisible or some shit.
Who the fuck is she callingmyAngelhandsome?
Grabbing my hand, Angel brings it to his lips to kiss my knuckles one by one. “Thanks, Lacy—”
“It’sTracy,” she corrects him but doesn’t take her eyes off the hand Angel holds to his heart.
“Sorry about that. My husband has trouble remembering names that are not important.”
Next to me, Angel fakes a cough to hide his laugh. Tracy’s whole face turns red, but this is on her. Hitting on a man who is clearly with someone, especially in a world where mates are considered sacred, is appalling.
Don’t like the embarrassment? Check if the guy actually wants you before pulling out the flirting tricks.
She must’ve seen us kiss earlier or heard him introduce me as his mate in the beginning, but the woman was too busy drooling over my Angel and making jokes about how he was strong enough to lift her.
I can lift her, too. And I’ll even throw her.Far-far away.
When she scurries away without a goodbye, Angel turns to me with a smile so large I wonder if his cheeks hurt. This man loves it when I act like a jealous psycho girlfriend.
“Husband, huh? You know now that you’ve wholeheartedly accepted the idea, I’m going to wife you up real soon, sweetheart.”
I’m not objecting. I don’t mind the thought anymore. Judging by the giddy smile as he leads us back to the group, I know he is planning the details of our wedding in his head.Silly Angel.
I burst out laughing when I see everyone covered in bright pink—the color I was assigned.
Before the game, the guys dared to propose a girls’ vs. boys’ match. Of course, we won. While Seiji and Harvey grumble about their loss, Angel won’t stop whispering how proud he is of me.Fates, I love him.
Yes, I shot myownteam member.
Why? Because it was fun and it made Hazel furious—a bonus in my eyes.
The flirty blind woman returns to ask if we’d like a picture to remember the day. Seiji rants about how neon pink is not his color but agrees to bear the shame of this picture for generations to come because he loves us.
Angel stands behind me with his arm around my shoulders, and August in front of me with my arms around him. Grace is on my right, while Seiji and Hazel are on my left. Harvey takes his place behind Grace, half hiding behind her.
The woman leaves to make four copies of the photo, and we disperse to change out of the jumpsuits given to us. The group comes over to make a makeshift circle around me like I’m selling candy by the gates of the arena.
We are waiting for Angel to finish his quick meeting with the king. He wanted to personally thank the king for providing extra protection and being so mindful of our predicament with Visha.
Hazel comes to stand by me in a loose-fitted black denim jacket over a short white jumpsuit, looking more relaxed than I’ve ever seen her. Grace decided on a summer dress with sneakers.
Earlier when she asked Hazel to match with her, the siren snorted so loud I bet Uncle Lucifer heard it all the way down in Hell.
Just like he always does, Angel barged into the bathroom this morning while I was showering, and left a short sky-blue summer dress that matched his shirt. He didn’t leave without a few kisses but who’s objecting to that.
I came out of the bathroom to find him with his sleeves folded to the elbows and the shirt neatly tucked into his dark pants. I traced over his muscles and markings, all but drooling over him until Seiji ran into our room and pestered me to help him pick one of the four outfits he wanted to wear.
The fashion expert—Seiji made me say it—is sporting a light blue denim jacket decorated with symmetrical mirrors embroidered in colorful threads.
Looks like my positive feedback this morning went straight to his head because Seiji is parading around like a celebrity waiting for the paparazzi to pop out.
