Page 32 of Reptile Dysfunction (Harmony Glen #11)
Thad
It’s just before sunset, the golden hour, the perfect time for Sebastian and Aspen to stand beneath an archway of flowering vines and pledge forever to each other.
Milo stands beside my brother, holding the rings in a special dinosaur-shaped box Sebastian had custom-made.
His serious concentration as he hands over the rings makes several guests smile.
My brother’s snakes sport matching silver bowties for the occasion, each one impressively aligned despite the outdoor setting. How he manages that level of snake coordination remains a mystery that I, for one, have given up trying to solve.
“They look so happy,” Sloane whispers beside me, her fingers laced through mine. The engagement ring on her hand catches the light, sending prism patterns dancing across her skin.
“They do,” I agree, watching as Sebastian kisses his bride to enthusiastic applause. To get a better view, my snakes rise slightly, several making approving little hisses.
Who would have thought, five and a half years after the Revelation, that we’d be here—two Gorgon brothers with human partners, celebrating in the open instead of hiding in the shadows? The enforcer in me still marvels at how much has changed.
The reception unfolds in the town square, fairy lights transforming the space into something magical. My security staff maintain a discreet presence at the perimeter—polished but not intimidating, exactly as we’ve trained them.
“Dance with me?” Sloane asks as the band strikes up a slow tune.
At her invitation, my snakes all perk up hopefully, especially Sterling, who immediately attempts to smooth his scales in preparation.
“Are you sure? My back—”
“—is fully healed and has been for months,” she finishes, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Unless you’d rather demonstrate your famous water ballet moves instead?”
“You fight dirty, Whitaker.” But I’m already leading her to the dance floor.
As we sway to the music, Sloane’s head resting against my chest, I catch sight of familiar faces across the reception.
Mayor Whitaker, deep in conversation with a phoenix business owner who gestures with his wings so enthusiastically that feathers are flying.
The Silver Swimmers demonstrating modified water ballet moves to bemused wedding guests.
Sebastian and Aspen sharing a private moment, his snakes creating a protective canopy arching above them while she whispers secrets that make him laugh.
“You know,” Sloane says thoughtfully, “I’ve been thinking about the whole ‘reptile dysfunction’ incident.”
“Must we?” My snakes all droop in remembered embarrassment.
“Actually, yes.” Her smile turns thoughtful. “It mattered. Before that, you kept everyone at a distance—still the intimidating enforcer who never needed help, never showed weakness.”
“And after I was just the guy with the humiliating back injury,” I grumble.
“You were the guy who finally let someone take care of you,” she corrects, reaching up to stroke Sterling’s scales.
The shimmery snake practically melts at her touch.
“You were the guy who let me see you flat on your back with a heating pad, complaining about Pilates. And somehow that made you more attractive, not less.”
My other snakes nod in agreement—one of these days I’ll quit threatening them and do something to make sure they don’t always side with my fiancée.
“Besides,” Sloane adds with a wicked grin, “we’ve confirmed that your recovery has been impressively complete. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
“Ms. Whitaker, there are children present.”
“Soon-to-be Mrs. Fangborn,” she corrects, as she indelicately shoves her hand toward me, showcasing her ring. “And I’m simply stating facts. Very impressive, well-documented, extremely large and unique facts.”
“Journalist to the end.”
“Always.” Standing on tiptoe, she kisses me softly. “Though I may need to conduct further research. For thoroughness.”
My snakes all perk up with interest at this suggestion.
The injury is long forgotten, especially given how enthusiastically and frequently Sloane celebrates my return to full strength.
Later, as the reception winds down and Sebastian prepares to leave with Aspen for their honeymoon, he pulls me aside.
“Not bad for a couple of snake-headed monsters, huh?” he says, clinking his champagne glass against mine. His snakes adjust each other’s bowties with precise synchronization.
“Not bad at all.” My own snakes attempt to look dignified but can’t quite hide their pride.
“Your snakes are smart,” Sebastian observes with a grin. “Much smarter than their owner sometimes.”
Before I can respond with appropriate brotherly indignation, Sloane reappears at my side, slightly breathless from dancing.
“The Silver Swimmers cornered me about wedding entertainment. They want to discuss water ballet options for our wedding,” she informs me, eyes dancing with suppressed laughter. “Something about an aquatic renaissance theme? I told them you’d be thrilled.”
“I’m filing for divorce and we’re not even married yet,” I declare, but my snakes will have none of it, especially Sterling, who performs an excited little loop.
“They just appreciate artistic vision,” Sloane says innocently.
As Sebastian laughs and heads back to his Aspen—they’ve been inseparable since announcing their engagement—Sloane leans against me, warm and solid and real.
“From Pilates victim to aquatic star,” she muses. “It has a certain flair.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And yet you’re marrying me anyway.”
“Best decision I ever made.” In emphatic agreement, every snake nods enthusiastically.
Because sometimes the most important evolution doesn’t happen when you’re standing tall in your strength.
Sometimes it happens when you’re flat on your back, letting someone else see all of you—weakness and vulnerability included.
And sometimes… a little reptile dysfunction is exactly what you need to find your way to perfect harmony. In Harmony Glen.