Page 54 of Glimmer and Burn (Unity #1)

A sound to his left drew his attention and he nearly fell out of the bed.

It was the loudest breath he’d ever heard.

The source was Miranda, curled up on a couch that hadn’t been there before.

She was breathing gently, peacefully. Why did it sound like he was inside her lungs, rather than half a room away?

And her aura was brighter . If it blazed before, now he saw a sun and he had to shield his eyes so she didn't burn his retinas.

Taking careful breaths, Devin opened his eyes to Miranda’s corner of the room, this time he shifted his focus.

Concentrated on the sleeping Miranda, on her half-parted lips, her cheek squished against her hand.

As he took in each new detail, the brightness of her aura dimmed until it was a faint shimmer in the background.

Shifting his focus was the key to muting the colors.

He’d have to learn how to do it subconsciously in the future.

Wait.

The full sequence of events caught up to him all at once. Miranda. Graves. He was stabbed.

Devin scrambled out of the bed, reaching for his side. His fingers slipped over a bandage saturated in blood and his heart stuttered. Was he a ghost?

He tore the bandage away—whoever wrapped it had done so thoroughly—until he reached clean, unmarred skin.

Was he dead or not?

He didn’t feel dead. Actually, relatively speaking, he had never felt more alive.

“Devin?” Miranda stirred, blinking sleep away and squinting into the darkness. The only moonlight hit the bed, highlighting bloody, empty sheets. “Devin?” She stood, eyes searching, but passing right over him. “Devin!”

He was a ghost. Oh fuck. No .

She stared through him as she continued to scan the room. He was on the far side of the bed, shrouded in heavier shadows behind the curtains, but when he drew closer and into the sliver of moonlight, she screamed.

“What the fuck!” She scrambled back to the couch and drew her hands across the food tray, fingers closing around a fork. She held the fork like a dagger, pointing it at him.

“Who’s there?” She demanded, staring into the room. Her eyes were on him, but she wasn’t seeing him.

“Mira—”

“Oh my gods, Devin!” She dropped her weapon and attempted to get to him, feeling out with her hands for the bed, then the chaise, then working her way around the front of the room. He was about to call out, but she was already stumbling over his discarded pair of boots.

She fell in slow motion and he was there, catching her neatly before any part of her hit the ground.

She folded into him, tucking herself as close as possible, burrowing into the folds of his shirt, under his shirt.

When her hands reached skin she stopped, then her fingers trailed to his chest, resting above his heart.

“Did something happen? Why can’t you see?” Devin pressed, disturbed and concerned that she might have been blinded in the fight. She set her forehead against him, breathing heavy.

“I can’t see because it’s pitch black in here,” she said, pulling back until he could see her smiling through a cascade of tears.

He swiped at her cheeks with his thumb and she nuzzled into his hand.

“I thought you were gone. We hoped when you survived the first ten minutes that it worked, but then you just slept. I’m not sure how long. ”

He held her. “Seeing in the dark is not my gift, though. Are you sure it’s that dark?” He looked around and the room was in the same sort of clarity as if the lanterns were lit.

“I mean, there’s the barest gap letting in some moonlight, but it’s one of those tiny quarter moons, so it’s not enough to see by. Why? Is something wrong?”

He shrugged. “Wrong, in that I’ve never been able to see this well in just a fraction of moonlight before.

Not wrong in that it’s not exactly a problem, per say, but I don’t understand how it’s possible.

I knew I was snuffing the edge off my natural senses all these years, but even as a boy I don’t remember seeing this well in the dark. ”

Her eyes went wide and then her smile turned devious. “Pick me up.”

“Pardon?”

“Just, lift me. If you can.”

Devin rolled his eyes. “I’ve lifted you before, you’re not—” He went to scoop his arm under her legs and nearly launched her across the room. If she were any other woman, she might have landed face first on the floor. Instead, she cartwheeled to land perfectly on her feet.

Miranda remained still for a moment, eyes wide, but she was grinning. “I…did not think that through.”

“What just happened?”

She felt for him again, moving slowly to avoid tripping, and he caught her hands to guide her. “It’s fine. It’s fine. There’s…so there’s a lot to explain. You were nearly dead.”

“I remember that part.”

“Well, there weren’t many options to save you. It was a lethal blow.”

“Again, not surprising. How did I just lift you like you weighed nothing?”

“Fine, long story short, Gideon learned that the potion Graves made might heal you. So, we made some and you drank it and that’s probably why you can see so well right now, too. But it’s temporary. The effects should wear off by tomorrow or so.”

He followed along, but he felt oddly detached from the information. “And Graves?”

Miranda winced. “Dead.”

Devin nodded, and he was surprised at how okay he was with the news. Even though it hadn’t been him to do it. “It was you, I assume.”

She gave him a conspiratorial wink. “Gideon was quite impressed. I may have gone overboard, but he did nearly kill you. Plus, there was a lot of pent up rage to get through.”

“Ah, stab therapy. And how do you feel now?”“Oh, much better, thank you.”

There was a lot to process. He didn’t know how to wrap his mind around it all just then. It felt like he’d been out for days, not a few hours. He could process later.

Devin lifted Miranda again, this time carefully and with hands under her thighs so she could wrap her legs around him.

“I can’t even see…” Her voice was full of laughter, dots of turquoise humor peppering her aura.

He kissed her. A slow, deep kiss.

“ You don’t need to see,” he murmured, intending to lower her to the bed until he noticed the state of it.

“Oh, we hadn’t wanted to move you, it’s a mess and—”

“Mira, this house is full of beds and they all belong to me. We can use them all if you want, start at one end and work our way down the hall, defacing the hallowed chambers of my ancestors.”

He kicked in the door to the adjacent bedchamber. “You said we have until tomorrow before this wears off?”

She nuzzled into his neck. “Can’t say for sure.”

“Then better to make the most of it while it lasts,” he moved with a grace that he couldn’t have achieved before, but with how light Miranda felt in his arms, he could walk and maneuver her body without effort.

The things he could do with this kind of strength.

He could see how the power would be tempting, though his intentions were a fraction less sinister than what Graves had planned.

But only a fraction, since his intentions for the still unmarried Miranda were, in some circles, considered contemptible.

And, by the end, the bed was beyond repair. Three of the four posts holding up the canopy were cracked and sagging toward the floor. The frame was on a dangerously uneven slant and the wall would need to be re-plastered.

Miranda was catching her breath as he enjoyed the sight of her with renewed clarity. Her tawny skin glistening with sweat, the sheets twined with her toned arms and legs. And that yellow shade of utter satisfaction pooling around her body. He was going to chase that color every single day.

“What are you staring at? Can you see my aura right now?”

He nodded.

“Is it weird to want to know what color it is?”

“I wouldn’t know about weird, I never conferred much with other Night Fae on the subject. But it’s not just one color. And each of those colors has a meaning. The same color, but on different people, can have an altered meaning.”

“How do you know what they are?”

“Intuition, I think. The meanings just come to me.”

“And…what does mine look like?”

“Yours is a solid band of proud and courageous cerulean. But dancing outward, like you are trying to light the world, is a passionate ruby red and adventurous tangerine. Then, occasionally, if you experience a strong emotion or feeling a new color can show up.”

“Is that why you’re staring at me?”

“Well, it’s mostly because you’re beautiful, and I plan to stare at you whenever I can, but you’ve got a shimmer of sated yellow which is my favorite color so far. It’s a nice visual confirmation of my unquestionable prowess at satisfaction.”

She lightly smacked his shoulder, but even the sore one felt entirely new. Her playful slap had all the pressure of a butterfly wing, but the message was clear. “Your admonition has lost its edge,” he commented. “Could it be that you’re warming up to my insufferable charm?”

“Never.”

He started to crawl over her, head looming closer to hers. “I’m willing to bet that you have. In fact, I’d wager that you actually love when I’m a scoundrel.”

She twisted so she was flat beneath him. “Don’t push it. You may be stronger than me, but remember,” She brought up her knee where he straddled her, her aim just slightly left of doing damage. “It’s only temporary, and I’m not above delaying my revenge.”

He bent like he meant to kiss her, but then changed his course at the last moment, teasing at the peak of her breast with his lips. “I’ll give in if you admit it.”

She squirmed, thighs squeezing together. “Not a chance.”

“Suit yourself.”

His lips were feather light, barely even a graze, and when she tried to press her body closer, he was able to pin her with a hand on her stomach.

He was careful about the pressure, watching her for signs he might be pressing too hard, but Miranda’s eyes were squeezed shut, every part of her wiggling and tensing with mounting frustration as his mouth whispered over sensitive skin.

“I have plenty of patience, Mira. Endless patience.”

“Shut up,” she hissed.

He chanced the barest, infinitesimal flick of his tongue.

“Ah, fuck.” Her hand speared through his hair.

“I love when you’re insufferable. I love when you’re a rogue and you’re annoying and I love how you pretend like you’re the hottest thing in any given room.

” She yanked and, even though he was now more than strong enough to remain unmoved, where she summoned, he would go.

“I love all of you. But if you don’t fucking touch me I’m going to hurt you. ”

He was gentlemen enough not to deny a lady when asked so politely.

This time he went slower, taking his time until Miranda shuddered around him, body once again blooming in that perfect yellow. The bed, which was beyond repair before, was now little more than scrap.

“We should move to the next room,” Devin breathed into her skin, bracing his arms to lean over her. His body didn’t seem to tire, ready to go another round when not even he possessed such stamina in normal circumstances.

Forget violence or world domination, this potion could save every marriage in Unity in a single night.

“We should also get some sleep,” she murmured, fingers tracing patterns on his bicep.

“You may have to insist on it, because I feel like I could do this for weeks.”

“That’s the potion talking.”

“I suppose.” Devin rolled next to her, testing to see if he could find a way to relax when he had never felt stronger, like his muscles were begging to be used.

“Gideon better hope none of those fae got a taste for it. And that he confiscated it all. This stuff…I can see it becoming a problem. If I didn’t possess such tremendous willpower and strength of character enough to resist addiction, I’d want more. ”

She tensed, then craned her head so she could meet his eyes. “You definitely don’t have any of those traits, so now I’m concerned.”

“Mira, you’re my only addiction at the moment, and one is plenty. And since I have no intention of fighting this particular vice, you’ve no need to worry.”

She sighed, but settled back down into the twisted knot of sheets.

“Ever?” She whispered.

“Miranda, I love you.” He moved so that he could reach her face with his hands, holding her cheek. “If you’re going to doubt it, then we’re going to have to get married all the sooner.”

Her eyes went wide. “What?”

“Miranda, I can’t have you thinking that you’ll ever be rid of me, not by any choice of mine. The way I see it, the best way to silence your doubts is to make it official. The sooner the better.”

He knew the argument was coming, but her eyes were smiling, her lips were fighting a grin. “But…I…did we even officially decide?”

He kissed her. “Will you marry me, Miranda Wilde?”

She paused, for several seconds.

He may have once doubted at her hesitation, found ways to twist her silence into his failure. But he didn’t doubt. He knew her well enough to know that, when it came to emotions, she was not nearly as quick on her feet as she was with a sword.

When she nodded, he wasn’t surprised.

And the rest could wait. Her parents, her sister, the fallout of the most beloved Alderman in Unity dying in his home. None of that mattered now.

What did matter was finding an intact bed, letting Miranda get some rest, and praying that this potion lasted until morning.