Chapter 35
Elyse
Elyse lounged on a chaise in the study with a book strewn across her legs. Her neck ached from craning toward the book, and she massaged it with her thumb and forefinger.
“There you are,” a deep voice rumbled.
Elyse grinned at the sound. She looked up to see Killian leaning on the threshold, one arm raised above his head.
He smirked at her, and his golden eyes twinkled, as if he enjoyed the sight of her reading.
She certainly enjoyed the sight of him towering in the doorway, the edge of his shirt lifted just enough to show a sliver of umber abdomen.
A crease formed between his brows. “What are you reading?” he asked.
“One of the new books from the library.”
Killian dropped his arm and ambled into the room. “You’re nervous,” he noted as he settled onto the lounge beside her.
Elyse closed the book and leaned forward. She ran a hand along Killian’s bicep, letting the touch ground her. “I just want to be prepared for anything,” she said. “Maybe I’ll learn something that will help us.”
Killian laid his hand atop hers. “We have a solid plan. Trust in it.”
They did have a decent strategy for taking down Lazarus.
They knew how to trap him and weaken his powers, and how to ultimately kill him.
But there was still so much left to the unknown, so many innocent lives at stake.
Every waking minute, her head swam with all the possible ways that Lazarus could weasel his way out of their trap and defeat them.
Her stomach had been in knots for days, and it only worsened the closer they came to the games.
“We can’t lose,” she uttered.
“We won’t,” Killian retorted. He sounded confident—far more confident than Elyse felt. “I’d bet on you any day.”
Blood rushed to Elyse’s cheeks. “Even against a psychotic, all-powerful demon?” she pressed.
Killian smirked again. “Especially against a psychotic, all-powerful demon,” he stated. “You’re at your best under pressure.”
He lifted a finger toward her face, as if he might tap her nose. Elyse snapped her teeth at it playfully. Killian laughed and moved his hand to her chin, pulling Elyse in for a kiss.
“Save that violence for Lazarus,” he whispered against her lips.
The corners of Elyse’s lips turned upward.
“So demanding,” she quipped, and closed the space between their mouths.
She would never tire of kissing him, of feeling the way his tongue slid against hers in lazy, teasing movements.
She dragged her fingers up his shoulder and wrapped them around the base of his neck.
A groan rumbled in Killian’s chest. “We have our fancy goodbye dinner in thirty minutes,” he lamented, “and that’s not nearly enough time for what I want to do to you.”
Elyse’s core melted into utter nothingness at the words. “Let’s skip it,” she whispered back.
Killian leaned forward and reached his arms around Elyse. She let out a yelp as he hoisted her off the lounge, her body slung over Killian’s shoulder. “Can’t,” he said, his voice gruff but teasing. “Sera said she would kill us if we’re late, and I promised my mum I wouldn’t die.”
He carried her into the hallway, even as she protested. “Put me down!” she demanded as she pinched his back, but her request was undermined by her shrieks of laughter.
Killian didn’t release her until they were back in their bedroom. He flopped her onto the bed, right next to a navy blue dress that had been laid neatly across the linens.
“What’s this?” Elyse asked, pointing at the dress.
“I believe that’s what most people call a dress,” Killian answered.
When Elyse smacked him in the chest, he let out a laugh. With a shrug, he said, “Sera must have gotten it for you.” He nodded toward the other side of the bed to where a white shirt and black trousers had been set out. “And I assume that’s for me.”
Elyse stood and held out the dress to examine it. The fabric was buttery soft, the stitching impeccable. She lifted one brow as she looked to Killian, but he merely shrugged again and removed his shirt.
Elyse had to turn away, lest she be tempted to resume what they’d started in the study.
A few moments later, she’d donned the blue dress.
The wide neck spilled across her shoulders, exposing her collar bones, and the long sleeves were light and airy.
A thick leather belt buckled at her waist above a pleated skirt that flowed to her shins.
“How does Sera know what I like even better than I do?” she asked as she studied her reflection in the mirror. She was twirling, letting the skirt flow around her, when she caught sight of Killian over her shoulder.
Elyse spun to face him and felt her knees nearly give out.
Killian was fastening the buttons at the end of the sleeves, his biceps rippling beneath the fabric.
The shirt seemed tailored perfectly for him, and the white fabric made his tan skin glow.
Even the black trousers were exquisite as they clung to his muscular thighs.
He paused as she stared at him, his eyes flitting to her and then back to his task. He blinked and looked up again, his jaw going slack.
“Fucking hell,” he moaned. He started toward her, his expression dripping with desire. Elyse gave him a gratuitous twirl.
“You look beautiful,” he told her, a bit of feral hunger in his voice. “Forget what I said earlier. We’re skipping dinner.”
He slid his hands around her waist, but Elyse batted them away. “Finish getting ready,” she ordered him. “I want to show you off,” she added with a wink. Before she could change her mind, she sauntered off to the washroom to add a bit of rouge to her cheeks and lips.
Soon after, Elyse and Killian emerged from their room.
Sera had also provided shoes for each of them—sensible black dress shoes for Killian, and brown boots with a short heel for Elyse.
As much as she’d been dreading the fancy goodbye dinner, she was excited for it now that she was dressed and done up.
Admittedly, it felt a bit strange—like they were blatantly ignoring the fact that in two days they would be fighting a murderous demon.
However, the distraction was most welcome as she paraded hand-in-hand with Killian in her elegant dress.
They traipsed through the house until they reached the dining room.
Servants bustled about, carrying trays of food and bouquets of flowers, but there was no meal on the table, and none of their friends were there either.
“Where is everyone?” Elyse asked. She twisted about, almost expecting someone to leap out from behind the curtains.
As if on cue, Manny came strolling out of the kitchen. He was dressed similarly to Killian in white and black, but with a brilliant suit jacket to match. “Come with me,” he said, his wide smile brimming with mischief. He ushered them out of the room and toward the east side of the house.
He paused just before the door to the gardens, and whirled to face them. He was buzzing with excitement, and Elyse couldn’t help but soak up some of his contagious energy.
“What’s going on?” she asked, half laughing, half genuinely confused.
Manny rocked on the balls of his feet. “I have something important to ask you,” he said to both of them. He examined their outfits. “You look stunning, by the way.”
Killian shook his head, even as he laughed. “Out with it, brother.” He looked at Manny like he thought his friend might have gone mad.
Manny grinned up at Killian. Elyse thought she might die of curiosity if Manny didn’t explain immediately. Right when she was about to wring him for answers, he asked, “Will you be my best man?”
Elyse’s heart stopped in her chest. She gaped at Manny, certain she hadn’t heard him right. Beside her, Killian was doing the same.
Manny threw open the doors to the courtyard.
A score of chairs had been set upon the stones, all of them facing a wooden archway draped in yellow blooms—starflowers plucked from the garden.
Votives lined the path to the arch, their gentle lights dancing with the breeze, and white silks punctuated with more flowers had been woven throughout the shrubbery.
With sheer happiness, Manny declared, “We’re getting married!”