Page 48 of Ly to Me (Devils of Alliston Springs #1)
“As I said, I want to make sure you’re comfortable.” He swiped some badge he’d lifted from his pocket and pulled a heavy-looking metal door open, then gestured for me to step in first. “That includes in your own home, because, no, it isn’t just mine.”
“Bein’ married doesn’t give me the right—”
“I added your name to the deed. So, whatever you choose to do, you’ll always have a home here in Alliston.” I heard the words he’d left out ringing in my ears— with me .
I’d have a home in Alliston Springs with him, no matter what I ended up doing when he paid me.
“Normally, I have people suit up to go where we’re going, but I think it’s best we don’t add more layers.”
“Prefer me naked?”
“Most definitely,” he replied. “But that’s not why. You’ll see.”
He stepped in front of me and took my hand, pulling me down a hall, then another. When a large sign with the words ‘The Sanctuary’ came into view, my brows dipped.
“You’re running a secret temple? Are people here in Alliston worshipping you like a god?”
He choked out a laugh. “Not quite. I’m pretty sure I’m more like a devil of Alliston, what with my fall from grace and all.”
“You were never that angelic to begin with. You just made people think the light shined from your ass.”
“It still does that sometimes.” He winked, and I tipped my head back with laughter until Car yanked me back. “Time to close those eyes again.”
I squeezed them shut and butterflies fluttered in my stomach with how giddy I’d become.
I heard a beep, like the one I’d heard when he took out his card and swiped it at the first door we entered, then a metallic clink.
He maneuvered my body like he had before, holding me by my waist while whispering in my ear to take a few steps, turn, take a few more steps, then, finally, to stop.
The air was noticeably warmer than the hall had been, and though my eyes were closed, there was a reddish hue on my eyelids, like sunshine illuminated whatever space we’d just entered.
I took in a deep breath, noticing the familiar leather and oak was being overtaken by a more earthy smell.
Not just oak, but now dirt, and rain, and flowers, and life .
A lot of it.
“Before you open, I want you to know that this was the first space I had made, long before I had a partner or a facility. Jamie isn’t allowed in Warehouse One, nor does he know what’s inside it. The few people allowed in here are on the bar’s payroll.”
“Okay, okay. Can I open?” My fingers were trembling as they met his hands at my waist. “Please?”
“One more thing.” He kissed the top of my head, making my heart skip a beat. “If you want some alone time here, you just tell me and I’ll drive you here whenever you need. I have another card ready for you, and I’ll make sure we add your print into the system soon.”
“Sophia’s gonna love that,” I joked.
“You can bring her in here, too. If you trust her, I trust her.”
My brows shot up, allowing a sliver of light to filter through my eyelids. “Okay, now I’m really curious. Why’s this so secretive?”
He kissed my neck, sending shockwaves through me, and whispered, “Open and see.”
My eyes fluttered open, and my heart stopped beating. Or, perhaps it was beating so fast that I couldn’t feel it anymore. Atala blue flashed by on a set of wings, then another, and another. Dozens of iridescent blue wings folded and splayed in the air, landing on bushes and hovering above flowers.
“Watch.” Carver grabbed my hand and held it out in the air, cupping it in his large one, and I waited, unsure if I was breathing until an Eumaeus atala landed on our opened palms.
“An atala sanctuary?”
“Mostly. There’s a few other breeds—ones I saw you had in your collection, which has grown, by the way.” He pointed to a door on the other side of the sprawling, indoor garden. “It’s through there. I had to get the proper cases for them, since the ones you had—”
“Were shit,” I finished, and he laughed gently, being wary of the butterfly and the wings that spanned my palm.
“You did what you could,” he corrected. “Let’s just say, finding another entomologist who was willing to come to Alliston and do what you did was quite hard.
But they get paid a lot to travel into town once a week to help out in that room.
We also donate to museums, schools, libraries…
really anywhere that needs or wants a specimen we have.
I didn’t realize how rare these guys were, so we get a lot of requests for living ones, too. ”
“They are.” The butterfly's wings shimmered under a stream of light. “Do you remember how I said you were most like an atala?”
“Course, I do.”
“Do you know why?”
“Not entirely. Is it my eyes?”
I smiled. “Somewhat. But mostly, it’s the way you are.”
“How so?”
“Atala’s act and look different to scare away predators. They also willingly ingest a toxin to taste bad as part of their defense mechanism. Not that uncommon with other butterfly species. ”
“So, why an atala, then?” He sounded genuinely curious.
“The day you almost beat up Noah at school reminded me of the way male atalas act around the females they plan to mate with.”
He snorted, then muttered a curse, probably worried about spooking the butterfly in our palms. “Not so common, then?”
“Not as common, no.” I shifted my hand, and I heard Car’s breath hitch behind me. “This one is a male—smaller, more green than blue.”
Car pressed his cheek to mine. “He must like you if he’s refusing to leave.”
“He’s just not easily scared away. The toxin he takes in makes him believe he has fewer predators to worry about. They know that most predators have learned to stay away or they’re as good as dead.”
He chuckled. “Cocky little things, huh?”
“Confident,” I corrected.
He laughed, and the butterfly flew away. I turned to face Carver, settling my hand over his cheek. He smiled down at me like I was his everything. “Thank you. For this. It’s all so…beautiful.”
His features turned serious. “It’s all yours, Ly. The Sanctuary, my house”—he took my hand and moved it to his chest, his heart beating as hard as mine was—“and me.”
I turned back to the rest of the room, pressing my back to his front so he wouldn’t see the water coating my eyes. “You could’ve moved on, you know. Had something meaningful, someone who could love you and be happy all the time. Someone perfect. Someone who stayed—unlike me.”
His fingers cupped my chin, drawing my gaze back to him, right over my shoulder. “I’d be lying if I said I’d tried to get you out of my head, because there was never any hope of that actually happening. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted, Lyra Roland, and I think you feel the same way.”
I swallowed past the growing lump in my throat and turned back to the flowers.
His hand slid from my chin down to my throat right before he kissed the top of my head.
“I hope one day soon you’ll tell me why you left me.
But, until then, I’d like to try not to think about you bein’ gone.
” He angled my head to the side, where he bent down and started brushing his lips up my neck.
“If you’re still set on leaving, don’t tell me.
Let me believe you’ll always be here until the day you aren’t anymore. ”
It felt like claws were sliding over my lungs, making it hard to breathe.
So, I just nodded and stepped away from his tender hold, following a rabble of atalas, monarchs, and orange-barred sulphurs down a winding path made of cobblestones.
I kept my eyes on the scenery, taking in the flowerbeds labeled with metal plaques, the variety of host plants for each breed to lay their eggs on, and how not a single thing looked out of place or overgrown.
As I peered up, Carver’s voice came from directly behind me, making me jump. “The roof can open, but the entire room is well-ventilated and mimics any outdoor butterfly garden. Didn’t mean to scare you.” His hands fell to my arms, calming my racing heart a fraction.
“Didn’t know you were following me.”
“I can go, if you want.”
“No.” I reached for his hand. “Stay.”
I spent the next hour walking around, Carver trailing along with me as I marveled at every little detail—from the wooden benches made from the pines and oak trees right outside the facility, to the host plants with caterpillars and butterfly eggs waiting to hatch.
Every detail had been so meticulously planned and maintained, but what made my chest hurt more was picturing him in this building, alone—thinking about when or if I was ever coming back.