Page 33 of Outside the Veil (Endangered Fae #1)

“No kidding.” Diego fought not to roll his eyes. “Besides letting him sleep all the time, I don’t know what to do with him.”

“You can’t let him do that, kiddo. He’ll starve to death.” Miriam’s forehead creased in thought. “I’ve never seen it like this before, but I think maybe it’s SAD.”

“He’s not depressed, he’s sleeping.”

“Not sad, SAD—seasonal affective disorder. Hits a lot of people up here since the days get so short. Maybe he just needs a good sunlamp.”

That doesn’t explain it, Finn’s nocturnal.

“He doesn’t—” Diego stopped on a thought.

Nocturnal, yes, even with the adjustments he had made to Diego’s schedule, but every day possible, he took a long nap in the afternoon sun.

With the sunlight reduced to five hours a day at best, and then down to nothing with all the snow, maybe it did explain the sudden need to hibernate.

“Dan’s probably got them at the hardware store,” Miriam offered. “I could run down there.”

“Hmm? Oh, no, Miriam, you just drove umpteen hours from the city. Would you stay with him for me? I’ll run down there since it looks like the snow’s stopped for now.”

With chains on the truck’s tires, Diego had gotten good at driving in the snow, deep in spots, but nothing like the slush and black ice of New York.

Dan did indeed keep the right variety of sunlamps in stock, and Diego returned only a few hours later to a quiet house.

Miriam had even mustered enough maternal instinct to tuck Finn in with pillows and blankets, though he remained on the floor.

“I hope this works.” Diego set up the lamp to shine directly on Finn then sat beside him to take his head in his lap. “ Pobre amor . Please get better.”

Two hours later, Finn stirred on his own. He rolled to his back and gazed up at Diego. “Good morning, my hero. Are you saving me from myself again?”

He combed his fingers through the inky silk of Finn’s waist-length hair. “I’d fight dragons for you if I had to. Though I’d rather not have to. And it’s almost dinnertime.”

Finn chuckled, then cried out when he tried to sit up. “Ach, bloody, blasted head. Feels like it’s full of jagged rocks.”

“No more coffee for you. Ever.”

“I’ll mount no protest on that account.”

While Diego cooked dinner, Finn sat at the kitchen table sipping willow-bark tea and talking more sensibly to Miriam. She brought presents out of her bags for both of them while they waited—a box of good sable brushes and a black silk shirt for Finn, and a pair of arctic weather gloves for Diego.

“I need you to protect your fingers,” Miriam explained. “Gotta keep those little digits typing on your dragon edits.”

They both thanked her, and Diego kissed her cheek before he went back to the stove.

“Why do people give presents in winter?” Finn rested his head on his arms.

Miriam laughed. “Because it’s Christmas, silly boy.”

“And if you have never celebrated Christmas?”

“Well, then, Hanukkah or Solstice or Yule, or whatever. Why are you asking, sweetie? I know they’ve got Christmas in Ireland.”

Diego rescued them before the conversation became too bizarre.

“I think he means in a more general sense. People give presents for lots of reasons, mi vida . Sometimes to gain favor or as part of a courtship or because it’s the socially accepted thing, like for a birthday.

Some people only give presents because they want to get them. ”

“Rather mercenary.”

“Yes, it is. But I think this time of year, for a long time, people have gathered closer together because it’s darker and colder. You just feel warmer about your family and friends, the people you love. And the best reason to give presents is to see the light in their eyes.”

“Oh.”

Finn sounded so despondent, Diego whirled to look at him. “What’s the matter?”

“I have nothing to give Miriam.”

“Oh, hey, gorgeous, don’t sweat it.” Miriam gave his arm a pat. “Starving artist and all. It’s not like I expect it.”

When Finn was uncharacteristically silent all through dinner, Diego put it down to exhaustion and headache. Apparently, he had been deep in thought, though.

“Miriam,” he said. “Could I give you the painting of Diego?”

“Oh, hon, no,” Miriam said with a snort. “That’s an incredible piece. You need to sell that.”

“I have no wish for a stranger to have it. You think it beautiful. I would like to give it to you.” He turned to Diego, one black brow arched. “Am I not doing this correctly?”

Diego laced his fingers with Finn’s. “Perfectly, mi amor . Please, Miriam, it would mean a great deal to him for you to have it. You helped us so much, been nothing but kind to us.”

“Don’t you ever say that where people can hear,” Miriam grumbled. “ Kind . Trying to ruin my reputation.” She took Finn’s free hand. “Thanks, gorgeous. It’s a very thoughtful gift.”

Her eyes shone with a suspiciously wet glint, and Finn managed his first brilliant smile in weeks.

Finn lay curled under his indoor sun on the soft nest of blankets Diego had made for him in the study. He found if he lay naked, letting the light hit as much of his skin as possible, his energy increased. Clothes were such a bother in any case.

Miriam had been so pleased with his present, still beaming as she’d left that morning to visit family on Prince Edward Island, and her delight had wrapped a warm glow about Finn’s heart.

He rather liked the feeling. Giving was a new experience, a difficult one if a person had never owned anything before to give, although he supposed one could give other things as gifts—pleasure, peace, comfort. Or did those not qualify as gifts?

He buried his head under his pillow, confused all over again.

The Winter Solstice, one of the four days of the year when the tides of magic ran highest, was the next day. It struck him as the most appropriate day for the giving of gifts, from everything Diego had said.

Diego, for whom he had battled a monster, for whom he would move the very stars if he could, his love, his light…

yet with all his knowledge and the centuries behind him, he had no inkling of what to give him.

He so wanted to see Diego’s eyes shine the way Miriam’s had, those eyes the color of rich, dark loam, so expressive, so often sad.

For the love of his life, and of several earlier lifetimes, a painting simply would not do. He needed to make a grand gesture, to find some way to show him how his heart sang thinking of Diego, his brave, kind, passionate, brilliant Diego.

He stretched cat-like and wandered out in search of Diego, whom he found in the den watching the picture box.

The teevee , he reminded himself. A beautiful young woman wailed over her presumably dead lover in the picture.

Diego sat clutching a pillow to his chest, jaw clenched, a sure sign he fought against sorrow.

Finn flung himself onto the sofa and pulled Diego’s head against his shoulder. “Why do you watch things which cause you pain, my hero?”

“I’m sorry, carino. ” Diego snuggled close, relinquishing the pillow to wrap his arms around Finn’s ribs. “Why are you wandering around the house naked in the dead of winter?”

“I’m quite warm from being under my little sun. You”—he poked at Diego’s chest—“are ducking the question.”

“It’s a good play, but it always gets to me. They’re so young and so in love. They should have been happy.”

Finn winced as the girl plunged a dagger into her breast and fell across her lover to die. Naught but a story, only playacting . “What causes this misery?”

While Diego related a brief account of the story, Finn struggled to understand the details.

It all seemed so convoluted and unnecessary.

“Why didn’t she just go away with him? If they knew they were life-mates, why this strange, secret marriage?

Why marry at all? It only seems to cause anguish and strife. All the screaming.”

“You’ve been watching Bridezillas again, haven’t you?”

“Perhaps a bit.”

Diego tipped up his face to give him a soft, tender kiss that shot lightning right down to his toes. “It’s not always like that. Promises between humans are important. The promise to be faithful, the promise of forever.”

“Even when they often break these promises?”

Diego let out a soft chuckle, though Finn could feel the sadness rolling from him in waves.

“Even so, corazón. The human heart is absurdly optimistic. When you love someone, you trust them, and believe with all your heart that the promise will be kept. Which makes the story that much sadder, because those two intended to keep their promises, but fate still ripped them apart.”

Finn gripped Diego tighter, an ambush of memory tightening iron bands around his chest.

“ Close your eyes, Finn! Do not watch, love! They cannot force you to watch! ” The roar of flames, the stench of searing flesh and oh, dear goddesses, the screams of his beloved as he burned alive…

“Finn…Finn!” Diego had his head in both hands, searching his face in a worried way.

“It’s all right, my heart. I’m well enough. An old recollection, nothing more.”

“You went white as frost. I thought you were fainting. The bad one?”

“Yes, love. That one.”

“There are no witch hunts anymore, querido . I’m here with you again.”

“It only took seven hundred years,” Finn grumbled.

“Might not have if you hadn’t gone into the Dreaming for so long.”

“Your pardon, my hero. I am sorry.”

Diego pushed him back until he lay flat on the couch. “You can show me how sorry you are, then.”

They made love as they had not in weeks, slowly and tenderly, exploring every part of each other as if it was the first time, lingering over every sensitive point in an exquisite game of sensual torture.

When Diego, sated and exhausted, finally lay asleep with his head on Finn’s chest, Finn fell back into his ruminations. He drifted in the twilight state of half sleep, bits of conversation and memory skittering over his thoughts. His eyes snapped open on a sudden revelation.

“Of course,” he whispered. “I am such a great fool.”