“Obviously.” I grin, wicked and satisfied. “Because this place has no soul, and life is exactly what it needs. A new, literal life, living in it. Besides, it’s beautifully ironic, cause, you know, magician and all.” I indicate all of him, every beautiful inch. “So, it’s perfect.”
“I’ve never had a pet before,” Lucky admits, voice low as he looks down at the creature.
“Which is exactly why you need one.” I step closer, my hand brushing the rabbit’s back. She’s wildly calm, which is why I picked her instead of one of the babies. She’d been left behind when her previous owner died. She just wanted someone to love on her. “Because now, when you come home from your unhinged magician life, someone will always be waiting for you. Her name is Hattie. Isn’t that perfect?”
Lucky looks at me, deadpan disbelief. “I am not going to pull her out of a hat just because I’m a magician.”
“It was already her name,” I say, my hands rising in my defense. “Swear to Ma’at. It was just fate, plain and simple.”
Lucky let’s out a noise, and I can’t tell if it’s annoyance or defeat. But just then, Hattie half crawls up his chest and nuzzles her little head into his neck.
Lucky stiffens, and for a second, I’m worried he’s going to drop her. But as he looks down at the little angel, as he runs a hand down her back, he… melts. His face crumples, brows knitting together, mouth soft. “Oh, fuck,” he mutters, stroking her ears with one careful finger. “I think I love her.”
I bite my lower lip, clasping my hands together, and swaying just a little. “And that is how you win day one of being a girlfriend.”
Lucky looks up at me, still holding the rabbit like it’s holy. His grin returns, and he shakes his head. “You’re out of your mind, Dagger Kitten. But, weirdly, thank you.”
“You are very welcome,” I say sweetly, leaning in to kiss him. The rabbit wiggles between us, and we both laugh into the kiss, tangled in neon light, chaos, and a moment that feels terrifyingly like… family.
chapter fourteen
LUCKY
I don’t wantto do this. Not tonight. Not after the most blissful, fucking perfect week of my life. Not since my entire world tilted on its axis and I woke up with Willow in my arms. And then again, the night after. And every perfect day since the woman I’ve waited my whole damn life for declared me hers.
But Vienna’s been on my ass. My manager’s been throwing a fit that I’m not “feeding the algorithm.” And the comments under my last few videos have been turning suspicious.
Why so few uploads? And why did @valetarot stop her Saint Shade series?
They’ve most definitely noticed the correlated timing.
So here I am, rigging the damn harness in my living room, setting up the tripod, pulling on my Saint Shade mask, and hitting record.
The room is silent when I climb into the silks. Neon Vegas glow seeps through the glass walls as I dangle upside down, abs flexing, a deck of cards at the ready.
Shuffle. Snap. The cards scatter into the air, but only briefly. My other hand plucks one clean from the mess. A queen.
The others? They never hit the ground. They vanish mid-air.
Smoke trick. Sleight. Mirrors. The comments will go insane dissecting it.
I let go with my feet, hanging from the ceiling with just one hand clutching the silks. I then pull a silver coin seemingly out of my mouth, letting it drop down my chest. It disappears into the waistband of my pants—which will be the part that makes the fangirls pause, replay, thirst-comment.
I hate this right now.
But then I pictureher. Willow. Watching later, rolling her eyes, muttering,You ridiculous bastardwhile secretly smirking. And suddenly my movements sharpen. My showmanship slides back on like a glove.
I fan the remaining cards, then snap them into sparks. I hoist myself up, doing a roll up into the silks that makes my muscles burn. All before doing a dangerous unravel. I land on my knees, spreading them wide. Closer now to the camera. I know what they want—what she’ll notice.
I hook my thumb under the lower part of my mask and lift. Flash of teeth as I smile. Quick swipe of the tongue across them, feral and cocky, before the mask snaps back into place.
Video ends.
I get back to my feet, panting slightly. My body thrums with adrenaline, though not from the trick. It’s one hundred percent from the thought of Willow watching everything I just did.
I put everything away. The silks. The cards. The mirrors. The smoke machine. The lights. I’ve got half a damn stage set up in the closet of my guest bedroom. Finally, I pluck Hattie from her cage, cradling my little princess to my chest, and I crash down into the couch with my phone in my other hand. I do a quick edit to the footage I just recorded. Cut the angles tight, overlay a dark, pulsing track, add a caption:
It’s all about the queen.
