Page 53 of Wickedly Ever After (A Fairy Tale Romp, #1)

Hector

The foremost skill a Wicked Witch should hone over a lifetime is their intuition. It’s important to learn when to stay if a dragon invites you to dinner and when to run for your life.

A Thousand Years of Wickedness: A Memoir

Hector West

He hadn’t expected her to take it well. She should be angry with him. She should be dismissive, to remind him that he knew nothing about true love—even if it was dragons. He was a wicked witch—heartless and utterly incapable of understanding it.

Instead, she slumped against the rock, glowing pink in one of the last shards of sunlight to bathe the grim face of the mountain. “I know.”

“They can’t stay together. It’s completely impossible, for so many reasons.”

Her eyebrows drew together, her cheeks sagged, her mouth pouted. “Like Hari and Tinbit, some obstacles they can’t surmount.”

“Hari and Tinbit see the difficulties and concede them. Amber and Alistair don’t.”

“I don’t even know if they can concede them,” Ida said. “They think they can overcome it all by the power of love. I’m sorry, Hector—I’m sorry for everything. If I’d not sent you the laughing charm, this wouldn’t have happened.”

What was he supposed to do now? If she’d drawn her wand and blasted him, it would have been easier.

As before, he wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her, tell her everything would be all right, he would fix it all for all the good that lie would do.

Still, he offered her his embrace, and she leaned into it, head resting against his empty chest, and for once he wasn’t burdened by worrying if he was doing the right thing.

“Ida, Alistair would’ve burned me if I hadn’t laughed at him, and I think I deserved it. Blame me for this mess—I sent you the candor curse.”

She shook her head, eyes shut tight. “Amber would’ve come to see justice was done, and I’d have done the exact same thing I did.

I know that now.” She sighed. “There’s an inevitability about this that would be serendipitous if it wasn’t so…

well, there’s no serendipity in mangled magic, and that’s the way everyone will see it.

You’re right. One of us has to go. It needs to be me. ”

“No.” He swallowed hard. “I won’t allow it.”

“Hector—”

“No!” He couldn’t stand the idea that she wouldn’t be opposite him at the table, thwarting his every move, always ready with a scathing remark about his ineptitude, even when he knew she didn’t doubt his ability.

She never had. He fumbled for the words to tell her what an honor it had been, fighting her for almost a thousand years, but they seemed empty, hollow, and purposeless.

Instead, he pulled her tightly against him.

He tilted her chin up with one hand, his other hand resting tenderly against her shoulder, and kissed her.

Frankly, something should’ve happened. Bats should’ve descended and swarmed them.

Perhaps an attack of spiders. Or Sebastian could’ve leaped out from behind a rock and said, Gotcha!

But nothing happened except that Ida melted into him, and he broke away, terrified, trembling, afraid of what he’d started.

But something very different was happening in the rest of his body, an eagerness he’d forgotten except in very occasional dreams. “Ida, I—I want—just once—”

“I know,” she whispered. “I do too.”

“We shouldn’t.”

“I don’t care!”

“But I care about you! If the Council finds out—”

“Fuck the Council!” She pushed against him hard, hands shaking. “If this is the end of Happily-Ever-After, if it’s all I have left, can’t I have you? Just once.”

Oh, he wanted that too, and his fear mixed deliciously with desire. There were a million reasons why he shouldn’t make love to Ida now, a million reasons why he shouldn’t make love period, but if he didn’t act now, he’d be sorry forever. “Come,” he said. “Come with me.”

“Anywhere,” she said.

***

Hector pushed open the door of the stable.

Ida glanced around with interest. “This is…different.”

He glanced down the empty corridor where various open doors showed the lack of inhabitants.

The goblin pony would have the first stall when it arrived, filled to a plush depth with meadow straw and sweetgrass.

The vanilla fragrance filled the place. He led the way to the end of the breezeway where a larger room had been carved into the rock and pushed the door open.

“When I used to ride Napoleon here, back when he was alive, I sometimes stayed here. Dragons love to give parties for visiting dignitaries. They can be…intense. One needs a break sometimes. These are supposed to be the groom’s quarters. ”

They were roomy, if more spartan than the rooms dragons kept for important guests. But the bed looked inviting, and it still smelled of lavender and sweetgrass when he pulled the sheet back. Immediately upon entry, a tiny candle in the room lit up.

“A candle in a stable?” Ida asked, watching the light fill the space.

“It’s everlasting flame. I conjured it to be safe. Fire is sacred to the dragons. Whenever there’s a fire in a house or a heart, it becomes magic—”

He didn’t get any further. Ida pulled him down and kissed him.

The candle flickered brightly, burned hot and hard, blazing against the wall.

How could he have ever missed how beautiful she was, her eyes so bright, her curiously changeable hair curling over her shoulders.

He reached, trembling, and undid the clips holding it all back.

She undressed him slowly, sliding her hands beneath his robe. It dropped down to his ankles. “Well, I see you like to keep things well-aired.”

He flushed, feeling the heat all through his arms, chest, and groin. “I took a bath. I didn’t feel like putting on my dirty things afterward.”

“Me either.” She eased his hands underneath the shoulders of her robe. He slipped the fabric down to her waist. The warm light cast shadows over all the lovely places he wanted to be. But there was one thing he had to do, had to say.

“Ida. I’ve never had sex before. I mean, I have studied the procedure—”

She cupped his cheek with one hand and planted a kiss on his lips, long, lingering. Her warm skin pressed against his, and he sighed and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him.

“It’s been a long time for me too,” she said.

“How long?”

“A very, very long time.” She laughed. “And it’s been a long time since I studied the procedure too.”

He choked on a laugh. “We’re supposed to be in charge of Happily-Ever-After, and neither of us knows how to make love.” He kissed the top of her head, pressing his nose into her sweet-smelling hair. Roses. Red roses. He drew in the scent, and all fear left him.

“I don’t know about that,” Ida whispered. “Let’s find out how much we do know.”

He pulled her down into the bed with him.