Page 89 of The Hocus Pocus Handbook

Ridiculously, that makes him smile. “Me too.”

“Did he give you those scars?”

Kerboros nods without showing his face, and I take that as a sign that he’d rather not discuss these matters.

“He’ll get what’s coming to him,” I promise. “Somehow.”

“Now that I have you, I find that I don’t care about retribution. Happiness is so much more powerful than I knew,” Kerboros admits.

His sweetness and candor take my breath away. “You have a point.”

“Are you hungry?” he asks.

That’s right. They left us a veritable feast, and I’m sleepy but also famished. No question that I’ll rest better with a full stomach.

“Starving,” I say. “Do we have to get dressed to eat?”

“Why would we?” In a playful swoop, he cradles me against his powerful chest and carries me to the lounge, where an elegant repast awaits.

I end up perched naked on his lap while we feed each other the choicest morsels until only crumbs remain. It’s sheer bliss. There are worries waiting in the wings, but I can forestall them for one magical night. I focus on him. On us.

We make love again, this time with more tenderness. If he asked, I’d have let him know that Shereth charmed me to prevent conception and only she can dispel it. Afterward, a yawn catches me off guard, and he shifts, settling me in his arms.

A kiss to my temple. “We should get some sleep. Tomorrow will be…”

I bestow a sleepy good-night kiss in return somewhere in the vicinity of his mouth. “Yes. Tomorrow will be.”

Drowsy with delicious languor, I close my eyes, letting the sound of his heartbeat sing me to sleep.

40

Star-Crossed

This piece is whimsical, adorning a curio cabinet in the artist’s quarters. Stars of all shapes and sizes have been carved into the cabinet doors, creating a dizzying complexity. Some stars contain others, a nesting pattern that required a steady hand and infinite patience. Some of the stars overlap, creating triangles within the arms of an intruding star. The line carvings are delicate on some stars, while others are deeply grooved, irregular. Impassioned, perhaps. Viewers have wondered whether the artist meant for this to be a tribute to the mortal realm or a quiet monument to marvels unavailable to fae eyes. Stars are an unusual choice, not normally represented in this culture. A few critics have called this piece maudlin and said that it speaks too directly to the symbol of lost love. The artist has not addressed any of the questions to date but has stated that this work represents someone in particular.

Kerboros

While Thea dreams, I hold happiness in my arms.

I have never experienced the afterglow that follows sharing myself, body and soul, with my other half. She rendered me mad with ecstasy more than once, and I would live for her, if I could choose my course. My entire being thrums with the joy of being chosen by someone who spreads brightness wherever she goes.

Once she awakens, this moment will pass. We will be forced to respond to the needs of others and play the roles we’ve been assigned. When my cousin arrives for the quorum, he may demand my execution, as my survival depends on following his commands and succeeding at the tasks assigned to me. For the first time, my efforts have resulted in abject failure—and yet I have never known such contentment.

I regret nothing, no matter what follows this magical night.

Ever so lightly, I stroke her hair, enjoying the wildness of her curls. Her skin is soft and warm, and I want to kiss every inch of it again. Left to my own devices, I’d let the courts burn and spend the rest of my allotted time between her legs, licking her until she screams.

My breath hitches with the images that conjures, and with effort, I control myself. She’s tired and needs the rest. Adding a glimmer of magic, I trace a pattern on her bare back, etching symbols that I hope she’ll feel when she rouses later.

Despite my best efforts, sleep eventually claims me. When I awaken, Thea is gone. This solitary stirring strikes me like a blow, yet I didn’t expect her to whisper words of love or even teasing enticements as she did the evening before. As I wash and dress, I tell myself this is enough.

The memory will sustain me.

As I step out into the hallway, I surprise Olive with her hand raised to knock. “I thought this was Thea’s room.”

“It is,” I say. I don’t elaborate on our relationship or why I’m staying with her. Whatever Thea chooses to share with Olive, it should be up to her.

“Do you think I could come in?”