Page 43 of Wickedly Ever After (A Fairy Tale Romp, #1)

Hector

I have an unfortunately soft heart. I first noticed it when I cut it out after the horrible night I spent by his bedside, wishing I could’ve been anything but who I was—Hector West, a witch, no fit companion for anyone.

It hurt, of course, like everything that bleeds must hurt.

But when I went to set it in the box, still thumping hard in my hand, it slipped, and fell in the garden.

It felt very smooth under my fingertips, but malleable, far too weak for the work I needed to do, and I was glad it was gone.

Finally, I’d taken the first step every witch must take if they hope to keep their feelings under control.

I buried it under the apple tree in my garden, where I would’ve buried him.

(Editor: Redact entire passage—too personal)

A Thousand Years of Wickedness: A Memoir

Hector West

“Believe me, it’s for the best,” Sebastian said. “But are you sure you don’t want to consult with the lady first? You could let her know she’s not getting stuck with the thousand-year-old virgin, which should cheer you both up.”

Gently, Hector took his heart from the box.

Dusty, covered in a faint crust of earth, it still smelled faintly of roses and blood.

The dark red organ beat patiently in his hand, a little unhappily, reminding him of what he was giving up, whether it brought him relief or not.

If he kept it any longer, he felt he’d never let it go, and he had to.

The next time Ida looked at him with that hurt, angry expression on her face, he’d drop at her feet and tell her she was right, that Happily-Ever-After had to end, and then they could be together.

“That isn’t necessary,” he said, holding it out.

Sebastian took it from Hector’s hands and set it back in the box. “You should’ve given it to me long ago. Well, better late than never.”

Hector couldn’t shake the feeling it was probably far too late.

Sebastian gave him a regular room, and to his surprise, he found only one skeleton in the closet.

He broke its fingers for trying to throttle him, and told it to find Tinbit and give him the room number while he got a bath.

He settled in the large tub that decided not to eat him after he fed it a few cakes of liver-scented soap first. He wondered how Ida was coping with the Honeymoon Suite.

He lay back and stared up at the blood-tinged ceiling.

At last, it would finally be over, and good riddance.

He was heartily tired of fighting the feeling that the best thing he could do right at this moment was to run to Ida’s room wrapped in a towel and apologize.

Or better yet, save her from a bloodthirsty skeleton, embrace her like a knight rescuing his damsel in distress, and then maybe fall into the bed for a whole different kind of activity involving bones.

With a groan he submerged in the hot water, gripping his cock.

The sooner Sebastian ate his heart, the better.

***

Tinbit dragged in a half hour later.

“What took you so long?” Hector snapped.

The bath had not helped. Neither had taking Tinbit’s suggestion of what to do with unwanted sexual energy.

He sat at the desk now, poring over his books, empty, aching, miserable, and confused.

This should be over by now. How long did it take a ghoul to eat a heart?

Tinbit slammed his boots off by the door.

“The pony had a thorn. You try putting a poultice on one of those demons and see how long it takes you.” He glared at the eager skeleton who politely hung himself in the closet.

“You didn’t need to send that awful thing for me.

It mooned me with its pelvis before it gave me your message. ”

“And what was Hari doing during all this?” Hector said.

“He put a twitch on the damned thing until I could get its leg wrapped and then he trotted off to bed.”

“Nothing else?”

Tinbit folded his arms over his chest. “Meaning did I strip him, suck him, and tumble him in the hay before sending him back to Ida?”

Hector’s cheeks warmed. “I…I didn’t mean—”

“Actually, you did,” Tinbit said, rolling his eyes.

“You’re just too much of a prude to say it.

And since you asked, no, I didn’t. The thought didn’t even occur to me.

Hay isn’t all that fun to roll around in—sticks you in the worst places.

Almost as bad as that pea gravel in the greenhouse.

” He sat down beside the smoky fire to peel off his boots.

“What on earth are you referring to?”

Tinbit glared at him. “You think I didn’t see you sneak out with Ida last night?”

“What? I didn’t—we were touring the greenhouse, not—”

“Fucking?” Tinbit raised an eyebrow.

“No.” Hector turned back to his books, face on fire. “We were talking about this unfortunate…situation.”

Tinbit had been taking off his socks, but he stopped and stared for a moment before resuming. “Huh. So she’s pissed with you. Well, that explains a lot. She didn’t talk to you practically all day. I thought maybe you just had been that bad.”

“Oh, balls.” Hector turned away.

“Yeah, you have them. I’m sure there’s a spell for cutting them off without pain and stuffing them in a box. Maybe you could try that next.”

“Meaning what, exactly?” He set his pen down.

“Meaning it’s not going to be any better lacking a beating heart. Trust me on that.” Tinbit laughed harshly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.

I’m perfectly fine.” Hector rose, pulling his robe tighter about himself, and limped to the dresser where he’d put the few clothes Tinbit had packed for him.

The bulk of what he’d brought were books, but perhaps there might be a pair of wool socks in there. His feet were cold.

“Sure you are,” Tinbit scoffed. “Did you get a bath yet?”

“When I got in.”

“Good. Sit on the bed. I need to dress your feet before you make more of a mess of them,” Tinbit said. “You’re not getting far tomorrow with those blisters unless I poultice you next.”

“I’ll do it myself.”

“Sit!” Tinbit yelled. “I’m offering to help. You damned well better take it like a man and quit pretending you are infallible and indestructible. You’re not. You can’t even fight off your own damned magic.”

“Is that the same salve you used on the horse?”

“If it works on horses, it will work on horse’s rear ends.”

Hector snorted. But he sat. The salve did feel nice, and Tinbit’s hands felt good on his feet. “You weren’t supposed to know about my heart.”

“Hector, we’ve known each other a very long time. How could I not? You take care of that nasty old tree like it was your child. It always blooms first in the spring and you talk to it.”

“I talk to all my plants.”

“Not like you talk to that tree.”

“It was as good a place as any to put it at the time,” Hector said.

“You know, I’ve always thought it was a bad idea, witches taking out their hearts. Makes them not as careful with other peoples’.” Tinbit capped the bottle and stared up at him. “How’s that?”

Hector flexed his toes. “Much better.”

Tinbit grunted his approval. “Now you can sock them up and get back to work.” He tucked the salve back into his pocket.

Hector rose and went back to the desk.

“How is it going, anyway?” Tinbit asked, poking the sulky fire and only coaxing a few tired-looking sparks out of it. “Not going to push you or anything, but I really don’t want to have to take that potion again. Although, it looks like you might need it more than me.”

“It’s going well enough,” Hector said. “And I don’t need a potion.”

“Oh, really? You could have fooled me. So, if it’s going well, what’s Her Goodness angry about?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. It doesn’t matter anyway.

” He opened Dragons: Their Ways, Their Wounds, and Their Weirdness and took out his quill to take notes.

Tinbit was right. Work was the answer. As long as he could stay focused, he wouldn’t be thinking about things like Ida’s heartbroken face when she told him to fire her, revoke her immortality, do whatever he had to do, she was still going against him and all of Happily-Ever-After.

That ought to make him angry all over again.

But it hurt. How could she not know that he needed her to be with him on this?

No one else could understand the importance of this magic like she could, and yet, she hadn’t.

That had to be his fault. He hadn’t articulated his reasons well, perhaps.

He’d become too emotional—his damned heart probably—

“Must have been bad,” Tinbit said, setting the poker down. “If you won’t talk about it to me.”

“A minor disagreement, that’s all. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Tinbit stared at him for a long moment. “All right. If you say so. If you don’t need me, I think I’ll take a bath before I go out to make sure the pony hasn’t kicked that poultice off.”

“I’m fine,” he said. “Go on.”

“Hector?”

“Yes?”

The gnome stood in the doorway, jacket down to his elbows. “You…you didn’t bring your heart with you, right?”

He laughed. “Why would I do that?”

Tinbit shrugged off his jacket. “Because you’re weird about it. You never had to hide it from me, but you did. You never had to bury it, even if it was a sentimental kind of thing. You could have kept it in the castle. I’d have taken care of it for you.”

“It wasn’t your burden to bear, Tinbit,” he said softly.

Tinbit shook his head. “Hector, you’re such a great witch in so many ways. But you really don’t know a damned thing about love, do you?” He walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

“No,” he said quietly. “And it needs to stay that way.” Hector returned to his books, determined to find the answer, for all their sakes.