“You painted me,” he whispers.
“I drew you. Pen and ink. And you—you died for me.” I kiss him brutally, crushing my lips to his, cupping his face with my left hand while I cradle my right wrist against my chest. God, does it hurt.
“What about your vow?” Dorian murmurs eventually through my kisses. “What about everything you said—”
“It’s all still true. I just decided not to think about it.” My cheeks are burning. “As far as I’m concerned, you redeemed yourself. By choosing love over your own life.”
Dorian rears back, hooking an eyebrow. “Baz, that’s super cheesy.”
“Very out of character for me, I know.”
“I think you’re cheesier than you like to admit.”
“Maybe.” Blushing harder, I pull back from him. “We need to grab your new portrait and get the hell out of here. All the smoke, the turpentine, the bodies—it stinks to high heaven.”
“Time to go,” he agrees. “Once you’re safely on the boat, I’ll come back and burn the place down.”
“Burn it down?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time it’s been destroyed,” he says. “It’s been smashed to bits by multiple hurricanes, according to Lloyd.”
“So whoever owns it just keeps rebuilding it?”
“No. It resurrects itself. One day, it’s destroyed, and a few days later, it’s back, with all the same furniture, same colors, right down to the same scratches on the walls.”
“Seriously?” I stare around the room, a shiver running over my body. “Is it magic?”
“I’m not sure of its exact history, but Lloyd told me it was built by some old founding family of Charleston. The Lockwood family, I think.” His gaze travels to Lloyd’s body. “He set my portrait on fire, didn’t he? I couldn’t see anything for a while, and I couldn’t move, but I could hear. I heard everything he said to you.”
The ache of betrayal in Dorian’s eyes is more than I can bear. I can’t imagine how it must hurt, finding out that sixty years of friendship meant nothing to the man you viewed as a brother.
“So you heard about the sea god I incarnated,” I say lightly.
The distraction works, for the moment. He nods, turning back to me. “A new aspect to your power.”
“One I don’t plan to use again, even if I could.” I bend, retrieving the portrait from under the love seat.
Now that the desperation to save Dorian isn’t galvanizing my body, I can actually look at what I’ve made. A neat, lovely ink-and-pencil creation, with a small smear of my blood on the corner of the paper from the cut on my arm where the god drank. Dorian’s image is crisp, fresh, and clear-eyed, wearing an expression of relief, wonder, and love.
Dorian gazes at the picture, a storm of emotion swirling in his eyes. “It’s beautiful, Baz.”
My gaze drops to the tiny cut on the hand of the Dorian in the portrait. I clear my throat and blink away the mist clouding my vision. “It works. That’s what’s important. We need to put this inside your bulletproof case. I’m guessing it’s waterproof too?”
“Once it’s sealed and locked, yes.”
We secure the picture, and Dorian carries it down to theSeraph. He helps me into the boat, too, then goes back up to the house.
Within moments, the mansion is ablaze, fire streaming from its windows as Dorian jogs down the gravel path and leaps into theSeraph. There are two other boats bobbing by the pier—Lloyd’s and Vane’s.
“I’ll have someone deal with those later,” Dorian says, starting the motor. “There’s a blanket in that compartment, Baz. You should wrap yourself in it. Oh, and your purse is in the compartment under your seat.”
I retrieve my purse, wrap the blanket around my shoulders, and settle in for the ride.
As he steers, Dorian bites his lip, casting me tortured glances. Finally, when we’ve left the burning mansion far behind, he shuts off the motor for a moment.
The dark sea is choppy, vaguely threatening, but the storm is over. The cloud cover leaks silver starlight in a few places, and the lights of Dorian’s boat slice far into the night, golden ribbons on black water.
“The moment I left you on that island, I regretted it,” he says. “It was unforgivable, Baz. I hated myself for it. I would have come for you sooner, but the storm… I had to get back to port. And Lloyd got in my head, and I’m ashamed to say I listened to him. When Ichecked on you, you were already asleep, so I thought you would be all right until morning. Then later I saw someone breaking into the house, so I headed for the island again, weather be damned. A few times, I thought the boat would be swamped. I thought I might drown over and over until the portrait couldn’t take it and I sank for good. But theSeraphis as feisty and stubborn as you are, thank the gods, and I made it.”
