My thoughts wander to how Colette looked, staring up at me. Her soft mouth. That blaze of defiant joy in the depths of her forest-green eyes. I’ve never felt like this. So wrong and so right at the same time. I want to do very bad things to those who hurt her and I long to do very lovely things to Colette. Normally, my passion is reserved for poetry and nature. I’ve never been so worked up about aperson. Although I know this can’t go anywhere, I can’t help imagining possibilities.
For once, I’m not ashamed of acting aggressively. Defending Colette felt right. It was right. It’s the first time I’ve enjoyed my darker vampire side. I am glad I was able to frighten that horrible man away. I don’t feel an ounce of regret.
The next fewdays are spent at Colette’s inn. We write. We argue. We eat more of those dangerously delicious Snowlight cookies. The inn magically leaves them in her room every day right before I arrive.
“How do you know it’s the inn doing it?” I ask, taking a break from figuring out a scene about the locking mechanism. “Have you seen that particular magic as it happens?” I am so curious about this sentient inn of hers.
“I haven’t seen it, but the scent of the inn’s magic is always strong after it does something big like that.”
I sniff the air. “I smell newly laundered linens and…”
“And woodpolish?” She tilts her head, and a lock of hair falls over her forehead. My fingers ache to push it behind her ear. “Lemons?”
I nod and try to stop staring at her lovely face. “Aye, that I do.”
“That’s the inn’s magical scent.” She smiles widely. “You’ll notice it now when it opens the door for you or delivers Mossette to us.”
“That’s amazing,” I say.
“It really is. Now, I have a wild thought about this mechanism…”
Her lips have fallen from their usual smiling curve, and two lines crease the spot between her eyebrows. Why is this idea stressing her so much?
Chapter 19
Colette
Itake a deep breath. I can do this. “I think the locking mechanism’s solution should tie into my character’s relationship with her mother.”
Archer stills as only a vampire can. “Go on.”
It feels like I’m naked in front of him. That my voice is about to be too loud. I’d love to blow out the candles and hide my face. But he didn’t shy away from my tears. He appreciates the full spectrum of feelings. I don’t have to be happy all the time, despite what I thought I learned growing up.
“Colette, take your time. I can work on our opening while you gather your thoughts.”
Mossette trots up to him, and he lifts her into his lap, not seeming to notice how he tucks her against him as he begins to scribble on his parchment. Mychest aches, and the mate mark tingles over my skin. The mark is right. No matter how unhinged, I have fallen in love with this half-vampire, half-goblin male. There’s no place I’d rather be more than right here, at his side.
I swallow and wipe my palms on my dress. “Before I get into that, I want to share something with you.”
“I’m here,” he says calmly, patiently.
“I want to share something shadowy from my life. I never really dwelled on this as an adult, but I think it’s why I have trouble allowing myself to be sad.”
He nods and almost smiles, the kindness in his eyes making me love him even more than I already do.
“I grew up in a house bursting with people. There were seven of us children. We never had enough money. I just tried to keep it all together, to make my family as happy as they could be despite our challenges. I think maybe I am still attempting to do that now, even though my family is in Kingstown and I’m on my own. I’m trying to keep anything sad hidden, pushing it away to maintain happiness.”
“It’s understandable.I never wanted to shake the boat, so to speak, in my house with my father and brothers. You and I were doing our best.”
I take a deep breath and wring my hands. “I want my character to use her full range of emotions. To stop shying away from memories as we move into the last scene. When she lost her mother, she began using humor as a deflection method.”
Archer nods, and I appreciate the fact that he doesn’t try to finish my thought and instead sits there petting Mossette. He is listening intently, his red-brown gaze fixed gently on me.
“Even though she acts like the death was expected and nothing to dwell on, her mother and her mother’s words are almost always on her mind. What if the locking mechanism was tied to the time they spent in the garden?”
Archer tilts his head and nods again. “I like this direction. I’m listening.”
My mind whirls, grabbing the loose threads of seemingly random ideas and weaving them into a story. I love this feeling.
