I reach for peace, and find it near, in him, in his touch, in his praise. “I think so.”
“That’s my girl.” His breath coasts against my lips—cool, like smooth granite in the shade. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” His thumbs paint over my cheekbones. “Fire has always reminded me of someone I care about. In that way, it’s always reminded me of love. I have spent much of my life hating the universe for the burdens it has given me…but in this, in you, my soulmate…it has done perfectly. I find myself unbelievably grateful. I find myself in awe. I find myself compelled to love what I have hated and scorned, for if nature has given me you, there must be some point to it all. You are so beautiful, so warm, so gentle, soprecious. The elation you spur within me consumes my chest, sets me ablaze with the sensation ofbeing loved. You, darling, are fire, and in you, I know warmth. Even if I may never see you,feelingyou like this is such a gift.”
What a wonder that something so destructive and uncontrollable would equate to love in this man’s mind. What a wonder…that I want to agree with him.Loveshould be devouring like this. It should burn and blaze and consume. It should leave nothing untouched. It should burrow into every crevice and make the strongest walls crumble.
It suits us—this love.
Exhaling, I let the sensation of being covered in heat overwhelm me. I let it dance in and out of my veins. I tell myself it is not painful. I tell myself it islove. And then…then I dare to believe it. “Castor?” I whisper.
“Ready?” he asks, voice a murmur against my lips.
I swallow. It doesn’t hurt. Nothing hurts. My throat isn’t raw. My skin isn’t chapped. I am at peace in an ocean of unyielding love. I am fae; I am fire; I amlove. “Yes.”
He loosens the cloth holding me in place, purely for the seduction of it, I suppose, because once the ties come undone, he evaporates the magic.
Free to run from the torture, I stand instead upon the crumbling wood as the flames swirl. Lifting my hand, I coast my fingers across the glowing, lapping peaks and catch sparks in my palm. The sparks twirl, and I feed them, until I’m holding a candle light on every fingertip.
“Excellent,” Castor murmurs, ecstatic. “Just like that. Play with it, my love. It is yours.”
Resting my cheek against his chest, I play with the fire, burn it brighter, hold it suspended around us. I draw pictures in the air and forge a crown to set atop Castor’s white hair.
It suits him perfectly, and I smile at the regality. “King Castor.”
He chuckles, and soft emotions spiral in him.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Nothing. It’s just…odd to have two different people call me by a title that implies I’m capable of caring for anyone, much less many.”
“Why would that be odd? You’re incredibly nurturing,” I say.
“Ah, more things no one has ever said to me with such sincerity. I do hardly know what to do with these beliefs of yours. Perhaps…deny them. Yes, that seems most logical.”
“Castor,” I deadpan, “you regularly make Frel and me animal-shaped pancakes. You’re practically a mother, or a housewife. It’s wild that you don’t wear a frilly apron.”
“I could. That sounds rather hilarious.”
I find myself kissing his nose. “Man, you’re cute.”
“Cute?” he asks, the consonants sharp.
“Yeah. Really, really cute. Why? Got a problem with it? Gonna deny that one, too?”
“Not at all. I know I’m adorable. It’s just peculiar for someone to agree with me.”
My eyes roll as I fit my hand in his and dissolve the flaming crown above his head. “You’re going to have to get used to someone agreeing with you, I think.”
“Really? Why’s that?”
“We’re soulmates, which means we’re basically husband and wife, which makes us a team. It’s very important for us to be a united force.”
His breath stammers. “Husband and…”
“Wife.”
“I’m…”
“Probably the wife, honestly.”
