Free My Big Fat Demon Slayer Wedding by Angie Fox Page A

space. “I’d rather check out that observatory.”
    I eyed his strong, Grecian profile. “Not without me.”  
    “Then let’s get out of here,” he prodded.
    I sighed.
    “Where are you going?” Grandma asked.  
    “Nowhere,” I insisted.
    “Okay, wedding favors!” My mother clapped her hands again. “You three. Pay attention.”
    He caught my hand and wrapped it in his. It was warm and solid. “Fine,” he said. “I’m staying.”
    Okay, but I really could hack it. “In case you don’t remember, I was the one who got you out of hell.” He looked like he wanted to roll his eyes. “I was also the one who blasted that entire army of sex-on-wheels succubi.”
    “Then I kept you from incinerating yourself,” he said under his breath.
    Fair enough.
    “Which time?” Grandma prodded.
    “Shut it,” we said together, a little louder than was absolutely necessary.
    “Have you even been paying attention?” Hillary bleated, her cheeks reddening, “because I don’t see how you’re going to make tulle wrapped bonbon favors correctly if you’re talking during the directions!”
    “Sorry, Mom,” I said quickly.
    Did anybody really care about wedding favors?  
    I didn’t. Then again, I was getting the feeling that this week leading up to the big day wasn’t about me.
    I wriggled a little, trying to get more comfortable on my seat. The couch was old, and hard.  
    At least Hillary hadn’t heard what we were talking about. “We need to be more careful,” I muttered.
    “Or, hey, here’s a thought—you could tell your mom you’re a demon slayer,” Grandma said under her breath, as if I could just blurt that out.
    “I thought you were going to tell her,” Dimitri said, as Ant Eater passed him a stack of white tulle. He looked at it like it might jump up and bite him.
    “Take fifteen pieces and pass it,” Hillary instructed.
    He handed the entire wad to me. “I’ll watch and make sure you’re doing it right.”
    “No,” Hillary strode over to our couch, heels clacking on the tile. “We need all the help we can get to make your wedding day perfect.” She stood above him. Even sitting, he was almost at eye level with her. Too bad for Dimitri, Hillary had an advanced degree in dagger eyes.
    He looked like a trapped bear.
    “Love means making compromises,” I told him, counting off fifteen squares of tulle and dropping them into his lap. Yes, he may be a hot-as-hell, badass shape-shifting griffin, but he still had to get along with his mother-in-law.
    And if he was going to protect me from unseen dangers, he could at least make some wedding favors while he was at it.
    “It can’t be worse than switch stars,” I told him. Handling them had taken years off his life. He’d grabbed an ice monster for me, he’d dealt with blood and guts and demon spittle. But a little tulle seemed to be his kryptonite.
    If only our enemies knew his weakness.
    He really did look miserable.
    “Okay.” Far be it from me to cause him undue pain. “Why don’t you take off?” I asked. He wasn’t doing any good here. And yes, my powers did feel strange, but I wasn’t in any immediate danger. Besides, “I’ve got the Red Skulls.” I gave him a small smile.  
    He looked from me, to the tulle in his lap, to the schedule boasting events like flower headdress weaving and a ribbon tying party.
    “I’m out of here,” he said, lightning fast as he stood. His griffin nature let him move a hair quicker than other men. I didn’t know if I’d ever get used to it.  
    He kissed me on the head and was out the door before the tulle on the seat next to me stopped fluttering.
    Typical man.

    ***
    After a half hour of wrapping bonbons into little tulle squares, I changed my opinion.
    He was a smart man.
    I struggled to twist the top of the little bag while trying to tie a thin silk ribbon around it. I slipped, and the side of my hand crushed the bonbon. Gah. I’d never been good at crafts.
    “Just eat it,” Grandma