“Congrats on your nuptials,” Howie called as they walked away from him. “Hey? Hey? I’m still trapped here. Lady Prospero? Hello? Monster Bride?”
His voice followed after them as they left the building, stepping from the darkened room into the bright light.
Prospero stopped and looked at Ellie. “Will he be trapped there?”
“No. It’ll fade in about five minutes,” Ellie said, plucking a few stray feathers from her wife’s vest and one from her cleavage. “I guess I just… overreacted. I didn’t like his tone, and then he reached for you and—”
“Thank you.” Prospero lifted one hand to cup Ellie’s face. “You made me feel like I matter.”
Later Ellie could think about how she felt about her wife’s planned assassination of several witches. Right now, she couldn’t dwell long on thatoron her own vicious streak. Being a witch had gifted her with a terrible power, and how well she managed that new power was a challenge no one had warned her she’d face.
For all the talk of staying or going, new houses, figuring out where she fit, protecting Crenshaw, and the why and ways of magic, the most alarming thing of all was turning out to be her own self-control. Her magic had become an extension of her will, and it was easy to see how the right—or wrong—sort of magic could be a deadly temptation.
After a lifetime without power, having it now is a heady thing.
“I suspect I may not be the scariest witch in Crenshaw anymore, love,” Prospero said quietly.
“Does that truly bother you?” Ellie asked hesitantly. She didn’t feel like a monster, but the drive to protect Prospero had been all-consuming. “That I can be menacing…?”
“Only if you remember everything and leave me,” Prospero said lightly. “Or worse. I’d hate to be your enemy, Miss Brandeau. I’m terrified of it.”
“Sotalkto me,” Ellie pleaded.
“I have followed the rules of Crenshaw longer than you’ve been alive,” Prospero said. “I broke them. For you. Because of you.”
“Once more then?”
“Has anyone told you that you are not one of the better angels, love?” Prospero asked wryly. “You tempt me to break every rule that I live by.…”
And for the first time, Ellie wondered if it might not be best that shenotrecall whatever had pushed them apart. Her temper was not traditionally monstrous, but with this power she now had… maybe that had changed a bit.
19Dan
Dan looked over at the man he’d eventually fallen asleep with the night prior. Kisses had turned to touches, and touches had turned to nakedness. And as it had been every time in his life, Dan had been the passive one. Axell was the one to lead their intimacy. Dan was the one who was touched and loved. It wasn’t that he didn’twantthat pleasure, but he felt vulnerable now.
Just once I want to be in charge.
I want to make the decisions.
Maybe more than just once.
The sky outside was still dark, but the moonlight was fading as sunrise crept across the sky.
Dan tried to be quiet as he stretched in the makeshift bed—a pile of blankets and pillows Axell had stacked together—in the classroom near the infirmary where Axell had prepared the impromptu date. Dan slipped on his trousers and made it to the door. He turned the lock, which was far too loud.
“Running?” Axell asked.
Dan looked back. Axell’s eyes were open, and he was staring at him. Dan was a lot less comfortable than he wanted to be. He wanted to be an equal if they were going to do this… whatever this relationship was.
“Maybe?” Dan folded his arms. “Nervous.”
Axell held out a hand, and Dan returned to the bed.
“Candlelight makes us brave,ja?” Axell threaded his fingers through Dan’s decidedly not-long-enough hair and traced over his not-defined-enough back. Every one of Dan’s insecurities felt like they were awake and speaking up this morning.
Why am I not… more?
This was always the issue with the morning after. When his hormones were raging and singularly focused parts of him were making all the decisions, Dan was bold enough to forget to feel self-conscious or to list his flaws. He let whatever man wanted to touch him or fuck him do whatever felt good. That had been the definition of every sexual encounter in his life. He was passive. He was compliant. He was… an object, often nameless, always forgettable.
