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“Lys…” The thread of sympathy in his voice makes me squirm.

“I went to Bear’s class. It was his last one at The Sanctum.” I pick at a loose thread hanging from the duvet cover. “The shop renovation is finished, so he’s moving the classes back there.”

It goes without saying I can’t join in. The thought is suddenly unbearable. “What did you do? Who have you seen? Have you had any news about a job?”

“Fitzie dragged me out shopping. He wants his apartment to be, quote, vintage maximalist chic.” He lets out a deep sigh. “Whatever those words mean.”

I’m deeply grateful for his silent understanding. The cadence of his words washes over me soothingly. I make noises of sympathy as he tries to explain what mid-century modern furniture is and why it now haunts his every waking hour, but shamefully, I can’t keep up with the torrent of human-isms — I just like listening to him talk. About anything.

I’ve half drifted off when Ezra says, “I want to meet.”

My eyes fly open. Lightning zips to my fingertips. “Meet — in person?”

“Yeah.” It comes out rough, and he clears his throat. “You said the azeroths only travel at night. I want to see you again. Even if it’s just once.”

“Yes.” It tumbles out unthinkingly. But a second later, I doubt myself. “What about the Watchers? What if something really does happen to you?”

“What could happen in broad daylight?” Ezra rumbles in my ear. “I can’t stand not seeing you again. The rest I can live with.”

I press my palms into my eyes, holding the cellphone between my shoulder and the pillow for a moment. My head spins. I can hardly think beyond needing to feel Ezra’s arms around me again.

What can King Hellebore’s agency do? They’ve taken my amulet already. Their job is to protect our world, and our world isn’t in danger from Ezra. I know it to my core.

“How do we do it?”

“I have a plan. But it involves Orion.”

39

EZRA

My leg bounces with nervous energy. It wasn’t hard to get around the Watcher posted at my place — they don’t know about the underground car park, apparently — but I’m worried Lysander will run into trouble. They’re checking on him constantly. Orion is pretty confident his shadow-decoy will work, but when the time we’re supposed to meet passes, I’m doubting the plan.

I check my phone for the millionth time, even though we agreed not to text about it, just in case. I’m so focused on not freaking out I miss the footsteps coming up behind me.

“Hey.”

The low voice makes me jump. I scramble to my feet. “Lys!”

A figure in ratty jeans and a sweatshirt stands behind the bench, hood up and a long jacket hiding his wings. No designer tracksuit this time — he must’ve borrowed these clothes from someone. Then my arms are full as his solid form crashes into me, and the world is right again. He buries his face in my shoulder, gripping my t-shirt.

“I’m here, baby.” I squeeze him tight, too tight.

His wings shake under the jacket. Finally, reluctantly, he pulls away. I take hold his shoulders and look at him — reallylook, inspecting his face in the shadows. He looks okay. Tired, maybe, but not miserable like I feared. Relief sweeps through me.

He’s okay.

He flashes me a tentative smile. “Hi.”

I grin. “Hi.”

I lead him by hand down the shaded path, letting my mouth run wild so I don’t just turn and kiss him again and again. Not many people would look twice at two guys making out in the park, but he’s not wearing his amulet, so we should be careful.

“I used to come to this park with Fitzie when I was a kid,” I tell him. “My mom and dad would bring the portable barbecue so we could grill hot dogs and corn on the cob. Afterward, we’d always get ice cream from the concession stand. I haven’t been back in ages.”

“Why not?”

I shrug. “It’s dumb. When I first got out of prison, I felt like I shouldn’t let myself enjoy the good memories.”