Once Finley leaves the room, Jeb pulls me close in a wordless hug. I nestle against him, savoring the scent of paint. A scent that will be fading soon, forever. The only sounds between us are our pounding pulses and our clipped breaths. I’m so devastated, I can’t speak.
He holds me tighter, until his chest crushes to mine. My heart draws toward his, almost magnetized. It’s a breathless, intense innervation—warm and wonderful—as if starbursts of energy pulse within the organ. The sensation must be caused by the magical bridge he and Morpheus constructed within me, and I wonder if it will always feel like this when one of them holds me now.
Jeb backs me to a transparent wall and whispers, “Look at your world, fairy queen.”
I turn my head to view the dizzying heights below, the genesis of Wonderland blooming everywhere. My wing buds tingle, craving flight.
Jeb gently holds the drop cloth around my collarbone. “It’s fitting. That my wanting to know who you were inspired my first paintings. And that my knowing through and through inspired my last.” He has the strangest look on his face—alert and renewed—as if he’s just woken from a nurturing sleep. He doesn’t look like someone who’s quitting. He looks like someone who’s just beginning.
“Is it so easy to say good-bye to that part of you? Are you walking away from me, too?”
The world outside explodes in a riotous transformation of color and light, reflecting in patterns across his olive skin.
He tilts his head, studying me thoughtfully. “Saying good-bye to my art is . . . it’s terrifying, Al. Ivory offered to give me a forgetting potion, so I wouldn’t have to live with the ache. But I refused. I don’t want to forget anything, because it’s those experiences, those losses, that helped me see there’s a lot more to me than a brush and watercolors. Other parts that haven’t been tapped yet.” Behind his dark, long lashes, his eyes glimmer with a potency that has nothing to do with magic. He pulls me to him, warm breath dancing along the fringe of my lips. “We can figure them out together.”
His thumb touches the dimple in my chin, then drags along my mouth, sending prickly sensations from my lips to my chest to my belly.
“And just so we’re clear, I will never walk away from you unless you ask me to. I almost did once, but only because I thought I’d hurt you.” He works a necklace from inside his shirt.
I hadn’t even noticed the chain glistening at the curve of his neck. I help him drag it out, revealing the engagement ring that he melted in the ocean, the one that Morpheus melded into a clump of metal. It’s been painted anew. Indestructible.
“Oh, Jeb . . .”
“I can’t give you all the things I once hoped to,” he says. “But I can give you a family and a home. I love you, Al. I just hope you can love a simple mechanic.”
I wind my fingers through the wavy hair at his neck. I admire this side of him most of all . . . his fragility, his flaws. His strength in spite of them. And now, he sees that strength with as much clarity and confidence as I always have.
“There will never be anything simple about you,” I whisper. “And I already love you.”
He lifts me until I match his height, my feet dangling, and presses me into the glass wall with his body. My heart reacts again—humming with life. His mouth and labret cross my forehead, soft yet persistent on their way down my face.
My mind blurs to a ripple of pleasure when his soft, full lips at last make contact with mine. He starts to deepen the kiss, but pauses, intent on the glass behind me. “You gotta be kidding.”
I glance over my shoulder. Outside, Morpheus hangs on the glass in moth form, level with my head, glaring at us with his bulbous gaze. Even without a face, his smugness is apparent. His favorite pastime is interrupting Jeb’s romantic moments. I try not to laugh, but can’t help myself.
“Cocky son of a bug.” Jeb sets me on the floor and draws the dropcloth tighter around me.
A barn owl swoops from the sky and skims the glass. Morpheus launches off in a tizzy, trying to outrun the bird. Now Jeb’s the one laughing.
I slap his shoulder. “Hey, that’s not funny.”
“Ah, he’ll be okay.” Jeb raises an eyebrow, watching the aerial pursuit taking place outside the glass. “It’s a new genus of vegetarian owls. They’re only in it for the chase. Besides, Morphie-boy can change to his other form anytime he wants.”
I smirk. “That owl is one of your creations?”
Jeb’s grin widens. “It was for bug-breath’s own good. Dude’s ancient . . . he needs to stay in shape.”
I bark another laugh. It’s so wonderful to see his playful side again.
Jeb’s smile gentles, then his expression fades to serious. “Can you finally admit it, your feelings for him?”
My elated buzz evaporates to a nauseated coil in my stomach. “There will always be two different sides to me. And each one loves you and Morpheus in different ways.” I look him in the eye, unashamed of the confession because of the honesty behind it. “I know it’s not fair to ask either of you to be okay with that.”
Jeb tips up my chin with a fingertip. “You didn’t ask. And I don’t want fair. I don’t want easy, either. I want one lifetime with you, and every crazy complication that comes with it. We’ve gone to hell and back to be together. I’ve proven I’m more qualified than any other human to handle what’s thrown at us. Magical or otherwise. Besides, how is you having two lives any different from any other woman who remarries after her husband is gone?”
“Because Morpheus will visit me in my dreams every night. Do you trust him?”
“I trust you. You’re as strong—no, stronger—than he is. He knows it, too. That’s why he gets off on testing you. You just need to prove it to yourself, like I had to prove things to myself. And you’re about to have twenty-four hours alone with him to do that.”
My shoulders slump. The drop cloth wrinkles between the wall and my back. I’d forgotten about my vow to Morpheus. “As soon as I’m free of Red.”
Jeb tucks the ring necklace under his tunic again. “I’m going to keep this until you tell me you’re ready. It’s a huge sacrifice, to build a human family and walk away from it someday. If it’s too much, or if after your time together, you decide you want to be with him now, I’ll move somewhere so we’ll never have to see each other. You need your time in the mortal realm to heal, and I won’t risk ripping you in half again.” His eyes are sincere and intense, his jaw tightened in an effort to be strong, even though I can tell it’s the most difficult thing he’s ever said.
He holds me tighter, until his chest crushes to mine. My heart draws toward his, almost magnetized. It’s a breathless, intense innervation—warm and wonderful—as if starbursts of energy pulse within the organ. The sensation must be caused by the magical bridge he and Morpheus constructed within me, and I wonder if it will always feel like this when one of them holds me now.
Jeb backs me to a transparent wall and whispers, “Look at your world, fairy queen.”
I turn my head to view the dizzying heights below, the genesis of Wonderland blooming everywhere. My wing buds tingle, craving flight.
Jeb gently holds the drop cloth around my collarbone. “It’s fitting. That my wanting to know who you were inspired my first paintings. And that my knowing through and through inspired my last.” He has the strangest look on his face—alert and renewed—as if he’s just woken from a nurturing sleep. He doesn’t look like someone who’s quitting. He looks like someone who’s just beginning.
“Is it so easy to say good-bye to that part of you? Are you walking away from me, too?”
The world outside explodes in a riotous transformation of color and light, reflecting in patterns across his olive skin.
He tilts his head, studying me thoughtfully. “Saying good-bye to my art is . . . it’s terrifying, Al. Ivory offered to give me a forgetting potion, so I wouldn’t have to live with the ache. But I refused. I don’t want to forget anything, because it’s those experiences, those losses, that helped me see there’s a lot more to me than a brush and watercolors. Other parts that haven’t been tapped yet.” Behind his dark, long lashes, his eyes glimmer with a potency that has nothing to do with magic. He pulls me to him, warm breath dancing along the fringe of my lips. “We can figure them out together.”
His thumb touches the dimple in my chin, then drags along my mouth, sending prickly sensations from my lips to my chest to my belly.
“And just so we’re clear, I will never walk away from you unless you ask me to. I almost did once, but only because I thought I’d hurt you.” He works a necklace from inside his shirt.
I hadn’t even noticed the chain glistening at the curve of his neck. I help him drag it out, revealing the engagement ring that he melted in the ocean, the one that Morpheus melded into a clump of metal. It’s been painted anew. Indestructible.
“Oh, Jeb . . .”
“I can’t give you all the things I once hoped to,” he says. “But I can give you a family and a home. I love you, Al. I just hope you can love a simple mechanic.”
I wind my fingers through the wavy hair at his neck. I admire this side of him most of all . . . his fragility, his flaws. His strength in spite of them. And now, he sees that strength with as much clarity and confidence as I always have.
“There will never be anything simple about you,” I whisper. “And I already love you.”
He lifts me until I match his height, my feet dangling, and presses me into the glass wall with his body. My heart reacts again—humming with life. His mouth and labret cross my forehead, soft yet persistent on their way down my face.
My mind blurs to a ripple of pleasure when his soft, full lips at last make contact with mine. He starts to deepen the kiss, but pauses, intent on the glass behind me. “You gotta be kidding.”
I glance over my shoulder. Outside, Morpheus hangs on the glass in moth form, level with my head, glaring at us with his bulbous gaze. Even without a face, his smugness is apparent. His favorite pastime is interrupting Jeb’s romantic moments. I try not to laugh, but can’t help myself.
“Cocky son of a bug.” Jeb sets me on the floor and draws the dropcloth tighter around me.
A barn owl swoops from the sky and skims the glass. Morpheus launches off in a tizzy, trying to outrun the bird. Now Jeb’s the one laughing.
I slap his shoulder. “Hey, that’s not funny.”
“Ah, he’ll be okay.” Jeb raises an eyebrow, watching the aerial pursuit taking place outside the glass. “It’s a new genus of vegetarian owls. They’re only in it for the chase. Besides, Morphie-boy can change to his other form anytime he wants.”
I smirk. “That owl is one of your creations?”
Jeb’s grin widens. “It was for bug-breath’s own good. Dude’s ancient . . . he needs to stay in shape.”
I bark another laugh. It’s so wonderful to see his playful side again.
Jeb’s smile gentles, then his expression fades to serious. “Can you finally admit it, your feelings for him?”
My elated buzz evaporates to a nauseated coil in my stomach. “There will always be two different sides to me. And each one loves you and Morpheus in different ways.” I look him in the eye, unashamed of the confession because of the honesty behind it. “I know it’s not fair to ask either of you to be okay with that.”
Jeb tips up my chin with a fingertip. “You didn’t ask. And I don’t want fair. I don’t want easy, either. I want one lifetime with you, and every crazy complication that comes with it. We’ve gone to hell and back to be together. I’ve proven I’m more qualified than any other human to handle what’s thrown at us. Magical or otherwise. Besides, how is you having two lives any different from any other woman who remarries after her husband is gone?”
“Because Morpheus will visit me in my dreams every night. Do you trust him?”
“I trust you. You’re as strong—no, stronger—than he is. He knows it, too. That’s why he gets off on testing you. You just need to prove it to yourself, like I had to prove things to myself. And you’re about to have twenty-four hours alone with him to do that.”
My shoulders slump. The drop cloth wrinkles between the wall and my back. I’d forgotten about my vow to Morpheus. “As soon as I’m free of Red.”
Jeb tucks the ring necklace under his tunic again. “I’m going to keep this until you tell me you’re ready. It’s a huge sacrifice, to build a human family and walk away from it someday. If it’s too much, or if after your time together, you decide you want to be with him now, I’ll move somewhere so we’ll never have to see each other. You need your time in the mortal realm to heal, and I won’t risk ripping you in half again.” His eyes are sincere and intense, his jaw tightened in an effort to be strong, even though I can tell it’s the most difficult thing he’s ever said.
