“No, not at all.” She, surely, could never be abadanything. Lowering myself to the ground, I kneel before her and rest my head in her lap. “I more than understand the desire for reassurance. I find myself reveling in every moment you make it clear that to be without me is to suffer. Even now, you don’t want me to go into the next room because you find that meager distance unbearable to think about after we have spent a morning apart. I delight in this sort of pain from you. I would utilize it to magnify your pleasure if I were but strong enough myself to pull away and taunt you with the wanting.”
Soft, she runs her fingers through my hair. “You’ve spent this morning happy. Without me. I have felt it. I have elated in it. I have wished nothing less for you. Yet, now, I find myself jealous of the joy you have when I am not causing it.”
As though she has not caused every ounce, nay, everygramof my joy… Silly precious girl. “How heartless I have been. I shall take great care in experiencing no positive emotions outside of you…so long as you might do the same.”
A tiny laugh graces me. “Wouldn’t it be fun to be that toxic? Co-dependent on one another, consumed with each other, utterly helpless apart…”
My heart responds openly to such a possibility. “It is likely my most vile desire that we become just that, Mine.”
“Pretty difficult to maintain on top of a growing kingdom, though, huh?”
That is a sharp point, to be sure.
Sighing, I murmur, “I shall need to plan for the taming of wild animals and the cultivation of butcher farms. We cannot risk thinning herds without resupplying them. Food takes priority…” I dwell on my dear feather’s scent. “Food, then power. There’s little sun in this domain, and I’m not certain wind is reliable enough to hold. Magic and water will have to suffice for power sources. Water. I nearly forgot. Fresh water is vital.” Crumpling, I snake my free arm around my mate’s waist. “There is much to consider.” Fortifying myself, I draw slowly away and upright, bending to kiss my sweet lover’s forehead. “I will be up late again tonight. But for the moment, all I should be concerning myself with is your lunch. Forgive me my delay and the distraction.”
Her hand tangles in my robe. “Take me with you and settle me in the corner of the kitchen?”
I find myself smiling as I lift her. “Hopeless without me. I love you like this. Would that you’d be more helpless for me, I may seldom know what to do with myself.” I kiss her cheek. “Could you try?”
Dreadfully unconcerned, she curls her arms around my neck, and murmurs, “Gladly.”
With that, I smile and go to prepare her food.
Chapter 33
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I love theworstof him
“Pollux,” I say, recognizing the giant doctor dream eater as he comes, somewhat awkwardly, through what has become nearly a main street since we started building here three days ago.
His already harsh expression hardens further upon seeing me, and he dodges my greatest regret—Billy—to reach me and take the bucket of small stones I collected from the stream in the woods. I stare at my confiscated bucket. I was going to use that to decorate the elegant amalgamations of charcoal-toned faerie houses today. Each whimsical building dots up the winding road, roofs slanted and chimneys crooked. The trees chopped mere days ago have already taken root and flooded dark leaves around the buildings, twisting new branches toward the sky. It’s all quite ethereal, full, and marvelous. A town come, literally, alive.
Pollux, judging by his expression, does not seem to hold the same sentiments I do.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
I shift my attention to him, then back to my confiscated metal bucket of shiny stones. “I’m head of the decorating committee today.” I point. “Those are my decorations.”
His already heavy brow furrows further.
So I flip the script on him. “What areyoudoing?”
“Checking on my patient,” he grumbles. “I had to come around the long way…since Castor put his traps back.”
I scan Pollux from his shaggy dark hair to his size-thirty-two shoes, and I do believe I would also trap my bed if I knew there were a chance this guy was going to crawl out from under it.
“You should be resting,” he says.
“Oh.” That’s what Castor keeps saying, because Iamstill bleeding, and the pain is notgone, but it’s like. Totally manageable. And, besides, Castor’s manic. I cannot let a manic man handle everything for a kingdom that wouldn’t even have subjects without whatever my magic ofrebirthis. Carefully, I try to get my bucket back. “I am taking it easy, promise.”
Pollux moves the bucket out of reach completely—via holding it roughly a mile above my head. “You shouldn’t be lifting more than ten pounds for two weeks.”
I let my hands fall back to my sides. “Oh.”
“Your job is to avoid strain on your pelvic floor and—” he says some other stuff, that feels fairlyscience, muchnerd, so I stand there in front of him, nodding along with my hands clasped prettily before the overall dress I asked Castor to make for me this morning. He traced it directly out of something lace that was in my armoire, running his hands over the fabric as it changed. In between kisses, I described what I wanted. In between kisses, he said he hoped that when I learned to make clothes myself, I would still choose to wear his magic instead.
That, of course, spurred my grand idea of practicing makinghisclothes out of magic, which resulted in elation through the roof, him tumbling me onto my swinging bed, and us getting a rather late start today.
