Page 21

EZRA

I crane to my neck, hoping to catch a glimpse of Lysander coming onto the stage, but the emcee is still running through his bit.

I’m behind the bar, so I won’t be able to watch up close, but that’s probably for the better.

There’s something in the air tonight. Kink night is usually a pretty dry event, but I’ve been pouring glass after glass from the unlabeled bottles of riigan wine under the counter.

Apparently it doesn’t just help Lysander with his nightmares, it gives a different kind of buzz to some monsters, especially stoneskins.

“They’re pretty much immune to normal alcohol,” Orion explains as he dumps an empty bottle in the bin.

“Why’s it so important to get drunk, though?”

He grins. “Can’t you feel it?”

“Uh, feel what?”

“Spring. The Greening is coming.” Sparks leap from his eyes. “Just watch the crowd — cut people off when they get rowdy. We give a little leeway around these times, but the red rooms are closed tonight.”

It’s not just the drinks, though — The Sanctum is more packed than normal, too. Orion explains that out-of-towners usually flood Greenriver for the festival, and apparently lots of them have heard about Lysander’s performance and are eager for the show.

So am I.

But instead of Lysander walking onto the stage, Thrain, the naga emcee, clears his throat into the mic.

“Hang tight, everyone.”

He disappears into the wings, and the crowd murmurs.

I lean over. “I wonder what’s up.”

Orion shrugs. “Bear’s probably in a mood.”

Thrain reappears, striding across the stage.

“Deepest apologies, but tonight’s show will be canceled.

” He raises his voice over the rumble of confusion.

“Don’t worry, there’s still plenty going on!

If you’re a lover of rope, Bear will run a new demo later on advanced floor positions.

So sorry again, thank you and don’t forget to behave yourselves! ”

Surprise ripples through the crowd as Thrain waves for the stage lights to be dimmed and the curtains drawn. I hurriedly put the glass I’m polishing back in the rack, but with no show going on, a lineup forms at the bar almost instantly. There’s no way I’m getting away to check what’s going on.

I’ll see Lysander later — it’ll have to wait.

I’m antsy all through the rush, until finally Orion sighs and smacks me with his towel. “Go! Take your break.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” I promise, and he just shakes his head.

I don’t see Lysander backstage and both red rooms are still locked and empty. Finally, I spot Bear on the floor. He scowls but slows when I wave him down.

“What happened with the show? Is Lysander okay?”

“Well, human, he’s physically fine. Maybe a little upset. More to the point, though, he’s fertile.”

I frown. “What does that have to do with anything?”

His silver eyes narrow and gives me a long look that has me fighting not to wince. He knows. “He’s oozing magic like a lamia producing slime. I can’t touch him even with gloves on. Tying him up is out of the question.”

“So you just — can’t do the show anymore?” I dig my hands into the pockets of my apron. “For how long?”

Bear grunts and shrugs, apparently having said all he’s going to say. “All I can say is, no more shows until it does.”

Shit. Lysander just got done telling me how important the show is to him, then I go and mess it up for him?

I can’t find Lysander in the staff room, either, which means he’s probably gone upstairs. I can’t ditch Orion — a conversation will have to wait.

When I open the door, Lysander is hunched over a book and still dressed in his stage costume. His wings droop and his long hair obscures his face. He looks up when the door opens, and my heart clenches to see his eyes are rimmed with blue.

“Sweets. I’m sorry.” The nickname falls off my lips.

“It’s okay.”

I kick off my shoes and get onto the bed, taking the book from him and setting it on his bedside table. “Should we stop?”

“Stop?” He blinks rapidly, eyes glimmering. “Do you want to stop?”

“Bear told me it’s because you’re fertile. I know how much the show means to you.” Lysander’s face falls, and I hurriedly push on. “I just want to do what’s best for you.”

He frees his hands from my grip and reaches for his buttons. Before I can say anything, he strips out of his costume, tossing it away. “I don’t want to stop. I don’t regret it. But maybe tonight, we can just do this.”

I let him pull me down to the bed. I kick off my jeans as he arranges me on the bottom. When he’s nestled in my arms, all warmth and firm angles, he sighs.

“It’s embarrassing that Bear knows more about me than I know about myself.”

I tug him close and press a kiss to his hair. “That’s not your fault.”

“My mother didn’t like to talk. She liked when I showed her my clothes.

She liked listening to the fauns gossip.

” His fingertips drift over my chest restlessly.

“I don’t remember much of her, even though it hasn’t been long since she died.

She was like a ghost. Sometimes I think she was already mostly gone by the time the fire took her. Just waiting to join my father.”

He falls asleep on me, hand curled in the blanket. His wings twitch in his sleep. His openness is like a drug to me — I want more, and more, and more. I want to reach in and cup his memories and protect them from the evils of the world.

When Jasper abandoned me, I put up walls I never thought would come down.

A new one goes up with every door that’s shut in my face since.

Lysander walks right through all those walls like they’re nothing.

Asking for what he wants, telling me what he feels.

His bravery is addictive, and I don’t think I can stop.

Lysander’s words are pretty clear, but his actions are clearer.

He’s insatiable. I worry he’s gonna get tired of doing this all the time — that the novelty will wear off — but the second we’re in his room, he reaches for me.

And each time, it’s just as intense as the first time.

Electric, sizzling, leaving me panting for breath and aching for more.

Blowjobs, handjobs, rubbing against each other frantically, always mindblowingly hot, and always with him whispering — or moaning — “ More” in my ear. I’m more than happy to give it to him.

In spite of losing the show, he seems infused with energy.

He smiles more freely, comes downstairs more often, and not just when the bar is open.

He’s opening up like a pretty spring flower.

I do my best to reward him for his courage the only way I know how — by locking the door and making him shake and cry out and pull my hair.

When his knees go loose and he finally catches his breath, I rest my cheek on his thigh and wonder how I got so lucky.

More and more monsters show up at The Sanctum for the equinox festival.

The upstairs rooms open up for short-term lodgers, and while it doesn’t slow Lysander down at all it certainly makes me think twice about my…

noise levels. It’s strange running into fauns and gargoyles and scaly-skinned monsters I don’t recognize in the space that usually feels like it’s reserved just for us.

Beyond that, Syril has us painting banners and weaving wreaths in our spare time, and at night the energy of the club is so keyed up that the red rooms stay permanently closed. Even Orion is in a good mood, trailing shadows everywhere as he bounces around the back of the bar.

It reminds me that I’ve been spending a lot of time with Lysander and maybe not enough time learning about the monster world as a whole.

“So what is the Greening?” I ask while Plato pulls extra glasses out of the dishwasher and stacks them under the counter.

He straightens, scratching the base of his horn. “Well, it’s a traditional spring festival. Some monsters have their own rituals, but for most of us it’s just a big party nowadays. Syril always rents out Whitecourt Hall from King Thurgraen so everyone can dress up and go wild.”

I laugh. “I get it. Most human traditions are like that, too.”

“I bet.” He grins. “You’re coming, right?”

I hesitate. “I don’t go to a lot of parties these days.”

Between the drinking, the party drugs, and feeling like a creep every time a nineteen year old hits on me, the vibe triggers a lot of not-so-great memories.

“Plato makes it sound like a rave,” Orion interjects, popping up out of nowhere. “The dress code’s black tie. Trust, you gotta be there. Plus, His Highness is taking the King’s Oath, and you don’t want to miss that.”

“A fertility oath at the Greening?” Plato chuckles. “Damn. That’s auspicious. I’m gonna get laid for sure.”

Once again I’m frustratingly at sea about anything and everything when it comes to Lysander’s business, which I wouldn’t care about except that he seems to be just as lost as me and that doesn’t seem fair.

“Mind catching me up?” I toss out.

“It’s his royal duty,” Orion says with a wry smirk.

“All monsters pledge to a king, but for the fairies it can only happen when they’re fertile.

Since the fairies have been in hiding for ages, wildlings haven’t had anyone to pledge to.

” Orion jerks a thumb at Plato. “He’s a stoneskin, so he pledges to King Thurgraen, Bear’s sire.

In return, King Thurgraen fulfills his side of the Oath — he provides protection.

The wildlings pledge for fertility. Fairy magic makes everyone pump out babies like nobody’s business, and I guess that’s their vibe. ”

“So Lysander’s some kind of fertility icon? Just because we…”

I trail off.

Orion leans in. “Because you…?”

“Never you mind.” I smack his shadows with my towel. Some things are sacred.

He dances back, holding his hands up. “Listen, it’s what the wildlings wanted way back in the founding days. Some of us asked for more sensible things from our king.”

“Like transmutation?” Plato snorts.

“Exactly.” Orion sends shadows shooting into the air, forming claws above Plato’s head, and Plato bats them away with a huff.

“Getting blessed with fertility isn’t even the horny part, though.

What I’ve heard is, after the pledge the wildlings would all have a big orgy while the fairy king watched over the fun.

At the end he’d bless the orgy with his…

" He makes a crude jerking off motion. “And that’s how babies are made.”

“Wow.” I squeeze the towel. An orgy?

“They don’t do it like that anymore,” Orion says.

“Yeah, not in the open.” Plato grins, his eyes sparkling. “Either way, you should pledge.”

I frown. “What, because I’m the human ambassador?”

Plato and Orion exchange a look that says, We’ve definitely talked about how they’re fucking.

“Sometimes a monster used to offer himself as a sacrifice for the, uh, blessing,” Plato says.

“The king is supposed to turn them down, since, you know, most monsters would literally die if he touched them. Back in the good old days he occasionally wouldn’t, or the person might be a stoneskin mix so he’d accept.

But… yeah, obviously, Lysander wouldn’t turn you down. ”

“Someone would risk their life for sex?” That seems nuts. On the other hand, sex with Lysander… yeah, it definitely has a magical feel to it. It’s on a totally different level from any of my past experiences.

But is that because he’s a fairy, or because he’s Lysander?

Another look goes between them, and I roll my eyes. “Okay, how much do you hear downstairs?”

“The staff room’s right under the hotel rooms,” Plato admits sheepishly.

“Fuck,” I groan.

Later, when the club’s emptying out and Plato is in the kitchen, Orion grabs my arm.

“Be careful about His Highness,” he says quietly.

I straighten. “What do you mean?”

“Messing around, I mean. There’s a reason in the old stories the fairy king never has a partner for the blessing. They’ve always scattered their seed freely, especially around humans. But when it comes to feelings, everyone knows they’re cold as ice. And you don’t strike me as the casual type.”

“Lysander’s not cold.” The image of him hot and writhing flashes in my head. Even outside the bedroom, he’s the farthest thing from cold. Guarded, maybe. But you don’t have to dig that deep to get to his warm, sweet center. “And I can do casual. I just usually — don’t.”

Orion only shrugs. “I don’t want to see you get hurt, man. It would be a shame to have to hire your replacement.”

I jostle him. “You could never replace me.”

His words stick in my head. I’m touched that he’s looking out for me — besides Fitzie, no one’s bothered worrying about me for a long time. But the way Lysander blooms under attention, touch, and companionship, I don’t believe for one second that loneliness is his natural state.

Still, I know plenty about how easily people form opinions based on assumptions. Orion and the rest might not care that I’ve been to prison, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have blind spots.

Maybe it’s not only Lysander who needs to learn about friendship.