Page 97

A crowd gathers under the gazebo for the ‘coronation’. Syril gives a little speech about community and everyone cheers, but I’m not paying much attention. They produce a big, gaudy, glittery crown, looking between us.

“It’s for Ezra,” Lysander says. He takes my shoulders and switches us so smoothly that I can only blink like a dumbass as I stumble into place. Before I can open my mouth, Syril is lifting the thing onto my head.

It’s heavy, like it’s made of real gold. I reach up and touch it, feeling like it’s about to fall off my head. The metal is warm from the sun. Syril grabs my wrist and lifts my arm into the air.

“Our human Midsummer King!”

The club staff and Fitzie whoop loudly and obnoxiously. Even the rest of the monsters cheer. I feel my face turning red as it goes on.

I hate the spotlight. But catching a glimpse of Lysander’s tiny, victorious smile, the crown on my head is suddenly light as air.

“So, King Ezra, what’s your first edict?” Syril says.

“Uh. Go have fun?”

Syril chuckles. “Well, you heard him. Go enjoy the lake. Stoneskins who need lifejackets, meet Plato at the boathouse. Sirens and riiga —” Syril’s gaze lands on Belle, “— remember there’s to benodrowning play. This is a day of harmony, and I don’t want any hurt feelings. And at sunset we’ll have some family-friendly stage performances.”

Lysander meets my eyes behind Syril’s back, his brilliant blue eyes sparkling. There’s zero chance we’re sticking around for the stage shows. I’m not gonna wait that long before I drag Lysander back to his room at The Sanctum to worship him for being such a brave, perfect soul.

“It would’ve been a real mood killer if you’d drowned,” Fitzie says, coming up as the crowd disperses. “You really can’t swim?”

“I never learned.” The admission comes out cool and calm, as if he wasn’t freaking out the second he got in the boat. “I have a phobia of water. It’s not as bad as it used to be, but I’d happily never get in a boat again.”

I groan. “You bet your ass we’re sitting this out next year. No more boats. No more lakes or rivers. Not even a single creek.”

“Most forms of transportation are a nightmare, if you think about it,” Fitzie interjects. “Boats. Cars. Planes. Bicycles. You’re seconds away from drowning, getting sucked into the atmosphere, or dying in a fiery explosion.”

Lysander looks worried. “I suppose you’re right.”

“You’re not helping,” I tell Fitzie.

“This is why I don’t drive. Passenger princess for life,” Fitzie says primly, ignoring me. “At least if we crash, I won’t see it coming and it’ll be someone else’s fault.”

“Myfault, given I’m the one who drives you around,” I grumble. “And I don’t get into accidents. I’m a great driver, thanks.”

“Orion isn’t. He drives like a maniac. I fear for my life every time he hits a curve in the road.”

“Me, too, but don’t tell him I said that,” Lysander admits.

Fitzie soon abandons us, leaving me and Lysander in the gazebo, leaning over the rail to watch Orion set up the bonfire at the base of the hill. Lysander nudges me with his shoulder, his damp hair brushing my arm.

“Congratulations,” he murmurs. “It’s better for relations if you’re the Midsummer King, don’t you think?”

His skin is still cool from the lake, pebbled nipples peeking through the thin borrowed t-shirt. I rest my hand in the warm small of his back, just below his wings. I’ll never get enough of the way he melts into my touch.

“You planned that.”

“You pledged to me. I want to return the favor.” His gaze is bright and hot, sending tingles down my spine. “Your Majesty.”

“Oh yeah?” I growl.

He drags his thumb across his lip as if he’s considering something, eyelashes dipping. “I could get on my knees for you.”

I lean down and capture his soft pout with my lips, my cock twitching in my pants. He tastes like lemon and fresh water and vitality. He gasps when I pull away, his eyes glazed over and his bottom lip wet with saliva.

“Let’s get out of here,” I rasp.

34