Page 49

EZRA

M y 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 — really look, 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.”

“I understand. When I arrived at The Sanctum I could barely bring myself to enjoy anything. How could I, when Elsabeth was still out there, alone? But I came to realize she wouldn’t want me to live like that.”

I tug him toward the boardwalk. “C’mon. Let’s make one or two more good memories together.”

The ice cream stand is still there, packed with a summer crowd. Lysander hangs back while I order two waffle cones, one dipped in chocolate and sprinkles and one plain. The look of delight on his face is everything.

“What flavor is it? What’s yours?” He sticks his tongue out and tastes the top. “Wow.”

“Berry crush and white chocolate for you. Peanut butter and cookie dough for me.” I hold mine out to him and watch his delicate blue tongue glide across it. He groans loudly and the back of my neck heats.

It turns out a double scoop of peanut butter and cookie dough ice cream is the best thing ever when you’re a kid, but stomach-ache inducing when you’re a grown up. I’m barely half done by the time Lysander polishes off his cone and starts eying mine.

“Go for it, sweets.”

He devours it and I watch him just as ravenously, the sight of his tongue doing things to me. It’s a good thing we couldn’t meet at my apartment. I’d have a hard time letting him leave the bed.

He licks his fingers clean, then catches me looking. A deep blue flush splashes onto his cheeks. I lean in, unable to resist.

His lips are cold and sweet. I take advantage of his surprised gasp to dip inside and taste him, and his tongue meets mine eagerly. He presses into me and his firm, lithe body rouses a scorching, familiar heat in my balls as one hand winds into my hair, and I —

— pull back.

He lets out a disappointed huff. “I could eat another one.”

I grin. “No problem.”

Later, while we’re walking, Lysander grabs my hand suddenly. “Let’s do it again next week. We’re being careful, aren’t we? I want to keep seeing you.”

God, I want that too. “Are you sleeping okay?”

His brow creases sharply. “That’s not important! You’re not just some cuddle toy to help me sleep better. Besides, I have Ezzy now. You’re my — my —”

“Friend?” I offer, voice rough. Person who wants to spend every waking moment with you? “Lover? Boyfriend? I didn’t mind being your cuddle toy, y’know. I might even be a bit jealous of Ezzy right now.”

His frown deepens. “My Ezra.”

The words slide straight between my ribs. Oof.

“Next week, then.”

The week passes like molasses. My life is brighter for a few hours, then it’s over.

Having Fitzie around saves me from wallowing too much in my self-pity, but it’s not only Lysander I miss — I miss the bar, too, and the monsters who’ve become my friends.

Honestly, I miss when everyone around me had fur, scales, and spikes instead of boring human features.

Fact is, in The Sanctum I didn’t feel like so much of a failure.

The same can’t be said for the human world.

A few weeks of brief contact later, Lysander postpones our next meetup.

I sigh and stare at our text conversation.

Is there a way to tell him how gray the days are without him that wouldn’t make him feel bad?

He’s trying to help Syril with business stuff, and while I adore his commitment to broadening his horizons, it’s hard not to pine.

“This sucks,” I tell Fitzie, raising my voice so he can hear it in the kitchen.

“That’s the fifty-eighth time you’ve said that.”

“You’re keeping count?”

“When it gets to a hundred I’m gonna go hunt down those freaky magic-vampires myself and stab them all to death so I can have some peace.” Fitzie appears in the hall. “I could do with the stress relief, honestly. Aren’t you seeing him tomorrow?”

“No,” I groan. “Thursday. He’s busy. I’m glad he’s keeping himself occupied, it just sucks.”

“Fifty nine. I’ll sharpen your kitchen knives,” he says, disappearing.

By the time Thursday comes around I’m antsy, and it makes me cranky, which in turn makes me feel like crap.

I’m glad Fitzie’s here, but I can’t help wishing for my own space so I can wallow in peace.

Job rejections are flying fast and hard.

I’m already behind on my payments. Plus, I only get to see the person I like most in the world once a week.

And these damn Watchers are relentless. Any time I leave the apartment out the front door, they follow me. It’s like being assigned your own personal prison guard.

“I’m going to meet up with Orion,” Fitzie says.

Oh, yeah. That’s the other thing. It’s petty and awful, but a stab of jealousy goes through me any time Fitzie hangs out with Orion.

More than anything I hate that the situation has made me into the kind of person who’s jealous of his best friend.

I’m happy he’s making friends, but it sucks that I’ve lost them.

That makes sixty.

But what matters is that I get to see Lysander today.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” I tell him as he goes out the door.

“Too late, I’m already not a sad sack!”

I wince as the door slams.

Lysander meets me in the usual spot. He yelps in surprise when I scoop him into a hug, lifting his feet off the ground.

In spite of his height, he’s light as a feather.

Sometimes I dream about throwing him over my shoulder and taking him home — just walking in through the front door with him caveman style.

What would the Watchers do then?

“Ez!” he squeaks, clinging to my shoulders.

“Sorry, sweets.” I put him down. “I?—”

I missed you is on the tip of my tongue, and I swallow it. I don’t know why, but my brain has decided I can’t let him see how badly this is affecting me.

“I brought you something,” he interrupts. He holds out the Midsummer King’s crown.

I push it down quickly. “Careful! That thing is real gold.”

“Of course it is,” he laughs. “Put it on.”

His laugh is infectious, and I chuckle. “What for? You want to do a little PG roleplay?”

He huffs. “What does that mean? Never mind — let’s walk.”

“No, c’mon. I’ll wear it.” I take the crown from him. It’s just as heavy and uncomfortable as the first time I put it on, the velvet band slippery and the weight forcing me to hold my head straight. But I don’t say anything, just give Lysander a wink and take his hand. “Where to?”

Lysander is oddly quiet as we walk, so I ramble to fill the silence. I’m not usually much of a talker. Something about him brings it out in me. He smiles and nods and gives all the signs that he’s listening, but I can’t help feeling he’s miles away.

“Is there something on your mind, sweets?” I nudge him gently.

“Oh, nothing,” he says, but then he looks away, an obvious sign something is up. “Let’s go this way now.”

The pool house comes into view. The smell of barbecue tickles my nose, and my stomach growls.

Lysander’s grip on my hand becomes firm and he steers me off the path, into a grassy dip next to the fenced off area where reams of shade dapple the hill. The barbecue smell grows stronger. He turns to me, his eyes wide.

“I hope you don’t mind —” he begins.

“Surprise!”

Lysander startles. I jerk upright and put an arm in front of him, and the crown lands on the ground with a thud. Then I realize who it is.

“Orion!”

Behind him, Plato, Larch, and Lilian emerge from hiding. “Surprise!” they cheer. Plato throws a handful of confetti in the air. They’re wearing… party hats?

“Huh?” I look back at Lysander, dropping my arm.

“It’s your birthday, asshole.” Fitzie steps up, crossing his arms over his chest. “You thought everyone forgot!”

“I —” Shit, is it?

I forgot my own damn birthday.

“Is this a birthday party? I haven’t had a birthday party since I was, like, fifteen.”

“It’s an important human tradition,” Lysander says firmly, picking up the Midsummer King’s crown from the ground. He sets it back on my head and kisses my cheek. “Happy birthday, Ezra.”

Fuck me. I swallow and adjust the crown to hide the emotions crawling up my throat. “Thank you. All of you. You didn’t have to risk the wrath of the big daddy Watcher for me.”

“We’re just having a barbecue in the park. Normal staff bonding activity. Not our fault there could be humans around.” Orion knocks me in the arm. “You want a non-alcoholic beer?”

“We’ve missed you, too,” Lilian says quietly, adjusting her glasses.

“Orion won’t stop talking about how much harder he works now that you’re not around,” Plato says.

“Hey!”

“It’s true, he’s insufferable.” Fitzie grabs my arm. “Come over here, I want to show you the cake I made so you can tell me how good it looks.”

“Seriously, thank you,” I murmur as Fitzie draws me away. “Did you do all this?”

“Your boyfriend was the one to organize it. He asked me to help. I just provided your date of birth as an excuse for the party.” He smirks. “You seriously forgot?”

“Wasn’t much reason to celebrate birthdays for a few years there.” I shrug.

“Okay, okay, your life has been hard. Quit milking it.” He rolls his eyes. “Cut the cake so everyone can finally tell me it’s delicious. I spent all morning on it. I’ve been practicing on cupcakes, but damn, a whole cake is way more work.”

I watch him fondly as he digs into the cooler bag. He lifts a huge sheet cake onto the picnic table, his arms straining. Green and blue icing make a forest around the border, and — embarrassingly — Happy Birthday Ezra! is spelled in loopy pink script in the middle. I’m actually impressed.

“You made this?”

“I’ve decided I need hobbies,” Fitzie explains, handing me the knife.

“You didn’t have to.”

“Why have a birthday without cake? Anyway, Larch told me monsters eat mostly the same things humans. Mostly .” He shudders. “Though he also said there’s a monster that only eats nightmares.”

I pause in the middle of dishing the cake onto paper plates. “Are you doing okay? Like, actually. I know the job meant a lot to you. What happened?”

Fitzie sighs. “Can’t I just want a change?”

“It’s my birthday,” I reply pointedly, not above a guilt trip.

“They found out I used to be a stripper. Said I was a bad influence on the kids.”

“Jesus.” A glob of icing slips off the knife. “I’m sorry.”

“Just another thing to add to my complicated relationship with dance.” He huffs.

“I’m fine , Ez. Things are not exactly peachy, but you know me.

I’ll get through it. I’m more worried that there’s a supernatural cop organization keeping you and your beloved apart and I might go insane before they come to their senses. ”

“I think we’re managing.”

“Fifty nine this sucks ’s,” Fitzie says darkly.

“Sixty,” I mutter. “Plus we’re technically breaking the shadowfey king’s laws right now.”

He prods me in the side. “Exactly. So go hang out with him and quit bugging me about my problems that aren’t problems.”