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“Damian.”

“I should probably tell you again.”

Her smile softens.

“You probably should.”

“I love you, Belinda.”

“I love you too.”

Fuck. Me.

My wings flare. Someone yelps behind us. A tray rattles.

“Damian!”

“Sorry.”

“You almost took out a waiter.”

“He's fine.”

“You don't even know which waiter.”

“They all look upright.”

She laughs.

I kiss her.

Just my mouth against my mate's while Halloween rages around us and the strangest town in Texas celebrates around the home she built.

Someone whistles.

“Get a room!” Owen shouts.

I lift one hand and flip him off without breaking the kiss.

When we finally separate, Belinda is laughing. I look around the room.

At the B&B everyone thought she couldn't handle. At the guests who came because she created something worth coming to. At Clarissa darting up the staircase toward her new room because apparently one of the ghosts stole her feather duster.

At the lights glowing through the windows. At the monsters laughing in Belinda's garden. At the Headless Horseman riding past the window again—what is with this guy? Still no fucking head attached.

Arrhythmia.

There's nowhere else quite like it.

“You did it, Sweet.”

Belinda follows my gaze around the room.

“I really did.”

The pride in her voice makes my chest swell.

“Yes, you fucking did.”