Page 16

LYSANDER

“ I t sucks you’ve been going through this on your own,” Ezra says lowly, his deep voice soothing. His head tips back against the leather seat, making the jewelry in his eyebrows and nose flash and sparkle in the low light. “I know how tough it is to struggle alone.”

It’s early, just after the club has opened. Monsters have already begun trickling in. After bringing my drink over Ezra slid into my side of the booth, so he’s pressed against me all up and down my side. I lean into him surreptitiously.

“After the fire, I had to get used to relying on myself,” I admit. “It was hard. I’d never been on my own before.”

“The fire… is that what happened to your family?” He pins me with his gaze, but instead of feeling trapped, it’s like he’s really looking. Understanding.

“My mother.” I look down. It’s easier to talk about it with his weight against me. “She set the fire herself to protect us. She couldn’t get out. But my father died when I was very young.”

His arm comes over my shoulders, solid and comforting. “I don’t think anyone here would want you to feel like you can’t rely on them. Me included.”

My family wasn’t that warm or big, but we were still family. When I got separated from Elsabeth, the world suddenly became a harsh place for a young, naive fairy. Everyone at The Sanctum is kind, and it’s far more than I had before. Still, I felt alone for a long time.

Ezra makes me feel less alone. Not just because he’s immune to magic poisoning, or because he doesn’t expect me to behave like a prince. Something about his warmth, his kindness, the glint in his eye, makes me feel attended to. Like he’s inviting me to be part of a shared secret.

I lean into him with a sigh and his hold on me tightens.

“We’re getting a few looks,” he murmurs. “Is that cause you’re a prince and I’m a lowly bartender?”

There’s humor in his voice, but also a thread of uncertainty. I want to put a possessive hand on him — claim him — but our agreement is about him touching me , not the other way around. Maybe that would make him uncomfortable.

Instead I rest my head in the crook of his shoulder. “Touching a fairy is taboo. They’re just being nosy.”

“Ahh. The forbidden cuddle.” His hand comes up to run through my hair and my scalp tingles pleasantly, sending a full-body shudder through me. “They’re missing out.”

“I wouldn’t want any of them to touch me.” It comes out in a huff, and Ezra’s heart thumps loudly under my ear.

I start having a new kind of dream.

They’re not nightmares, though I do wake up from them sweaty all over, my heart pounding. They dissipate the instant I’m awake, leaving only tendrils of something frustratingly ephemeral. I’m damp and tender all over, but especially between my legs.

The first time it happens, I gently prod the opening there, hoping I’m not getting sick. Shocks erupt beneath my fingertips. Lightning flickers up and down my spine.

I yank my hand away.

After that, I don’t dare touch it. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I’m becoming fertile — but what could possibly trigger that?

The warmth of spring makes me restless, and now that I’m sleeping so soundly I have energy to spare.

I put the last touches on the lace costume and try it on for the first time, pleased at the way it hugs my body while the ruffles and streaming silk tails off the sleeves create movement.

Ezra spots it hanging up the next time he comes up to my room, and he goes straight over.

“You finished it?” His eyes sparkle.

“Yes,” I tell him proudly. “I think it’s my best one yet.”

When he looks up his cheeks are faintly pink. “I bet it looks great.”

“Well, you’ll have to see it at the show.” I make up my mind right there to wear it even if Bear chastises me.

Like usual, Ezra looks away while I change and climb into the bed.

He only ever takes off his pants, and while I long to feel more of his skin against mine I’m scared to jeopardize what I have by asking for even more.

Besides, it’s not like I need it. In fact, I don’t even know why the desire for it strikes me at random times.

As soon as he slides under the covers, the restless feeling rises in me again. I pull his arm over me and his chest expands rapidly against my back.

“It’s still helping?” he asks into the dark. He asks it a lot.

My eyes drift shut even though my body buzzes with strange energy. “No more nightmares,” I assure him.

There’s no need to tell him about the new dreams.

The next Sunday I bring the new costume downstairs.

In the dressing room I pull the sheer, delicate material up my thighs, pleased at the way the lace glimmers subtly in the low light.

It’s made of silk threads, which gives it a beautiful gleam.

I spotted Ezra’s truck out front even though he’s not working today, and for some reason I’m buoyant.

I can’t shake the feeling he’s here to see me , not just the show.

The quiet knock on the door surprises me. When I open it, my fingers inadvertently squeeze the lace still gathered at my waist. “Ezra?”

“I just came to say break a leg,” he says, leaning against the door frame. His face reddens as his eyes flicker over me. I’m still bare from the waist up, since the costume’s fastenings are complicated.

“Break a…?” I stare at him.

“It’s a human thing.” His flush darkens and he finally meets my eyes. “Not literally! It means good luck, but it’s bad luck to say good luck to a performer… you know what, never mind.”

“No, wait.” I grab his arm. “I could use your help.”

He stops. “Anything you need.”

I pull the costume up the rest of the way quickly. “Can you do up the fasteners?”

Ezra’s gaze sweeps over me again, this time assessing, and something churns inside me. He nods. “Inside, though.”

I turn my back to show him what needs to be done.

I can see him behind me in the mirror. He steps up, his warmth immediately basting me.

His eyelashes flicker as he reaches out.

There’s something different about his touch — normally, it’s confident and firm.

This time his fingers barely brush my back as he fastens each hook.

In the mirror he looks up, meeting my eyes.

“It’ll be easier if you sit down.”

I stumble, and Ezra’s hand cups my hip to steady me as I lower myself into the chair.

“Can you count down from three?” I blurt, the demand taking me by surprise. “It helps me calm down.”

“Of course,” he rumbles. He leans over, his hot breath brushing my cheek. His hands are on me again. Something zips down my spine, through my gut, and into the apex between my thighs. “Three.”

I can’t breathe.

Ezra reaches for the fasteners on the other side, brow furrowed in concentration. He’s so close I hear the click of his jaw as he swallows.

“Two.”

Why is this different from all the other times he’s touched me?

What’s making my heart race like this?

“One.” His throat bobs.

My trembling fingers meet his jaw and he freezes. His skin is smooth under my fingertips. When did I reach up?

“Lys,” he says, the shortened version of my name coming out in a rough.

The tingling spreads all down my thighs.

I drop my hand at once. My knees are shaking. He finishes fastening the other shoulder and smoothes his fingers over it, but his hand doesn’t linger. His eyes fall to my lap, and I follow his gaze.

My heart hammers in my ears. The mound between my thighs swells, distending the lace. Has it ever done that before?

“I’m going to back off now,” Ezra rasps.

I swallow a whimper of protest.

I don’t want him to. I want…

I want…

The unformed thought fades. Ezra shuffles backward, his face red. He holds his forearm crookedly across his pants. I squeeze my knees together, aching in ways I don’t understand. My wings flutter with agitation.

“Sorry,” Ezra says quietly. “I didn’t mean to push. You look stunning, sweets.”

“Don’t,” I interject swiftly. “Don’t be sorry.”

He nods jerkily. “I’d better get out there and find a spot to watch from.”

He stumbles out of the room, casting one last look over his shoulder before he shuts the door behind himself. I dig my fingers into my thighs and try to breathe as my body swarms with sensations I don’t understand.