Page 109 of Stealing Tink

He does not particularly want to admit why he wants Phoenix to live with him. It is embarrassing. But he does want her to live with him, very much.

“I would like to have a friend,” says Lars.

“Lars,” says Phoenix, though he’s not sure why. He knows his own name.

“It is not often that I find someone whose company is compatible with my temperament,” he says.

Phoenix’s mouth twitches. “You think our temperaments are compatible?”

“Yes.”

Phoenix gestures with her hand. Lars is familiar with this gesture, one to continue speaking.

“The Nomad will want to live with Tink, so they were both out of the question. Acel doesn’t like me much. And Venus is dead.”

Phoenix twitches a bit before responding. “So we’re compatible because I’m your only option?”

“Exactly.” He is glad she understands. “There are additional reasons too. I noticed onboard that you often kept to your own room. This is a quality I would like in a roommate. I would not tolerate it well if someone were always trying to bother me whilst I was studying my insects. You have mentioned before that you cannot cook, but that is fine, because I can more than make up for that deficit. I excel at the culinary arts. You will have to learn to play Fate’s Fortune, of course”—this is Lars’s favorite strategy game—“although, on nights on which you do not wish to play it, I am used to playing it solitary.”

Phoenix chuckles, crosses her arms, and looks to the side. Lars thinks this is a good sign, indeed.

“Fine,” she says. “I’ll agree to it. But only on a trial basis.”

Lars is confident the trial will go brilliantly and that Phoenix will benefit from the arrangement as much as he does. He is happy to agree to these terms.

“But Lars,” Phoenix says, a warning in her voice. “Touch me, even once, and I’ll kill you.”

“Please do,” says Lars. “For if I demonstrate any sexual inclination toward you at all, the only explanation is that I have accidentally ingested silica nocturna eggs, and that they have hatched and infested my adrenal glands, spurring on a rather destructive sexual drive, to which I would much prefer death.”

Phoenix does not answer. Lars does not mind.

CHAPTER 49

TINK

I’m dressed in a shimmering gown that feels too classy for a night at the circus.

Probably because I’ve only ever experienced the circus from the other side.

The gown itself is something I normally shouldn’t be able to wear, no chance of hiding my wings, except Lars figured out a way to siphon the magic from Venus’s painting into a sort of salve that’s turned my wings invisible. That was what he’d given me before he left to chase after Phoenix. It was sticky and unpleasant going on, and my wings still feel oily, but that’s not what has me uncomfortable.

Because we’re in the middle of the stands, and up above, soaring above us, is Peter.

There’s something about the way his adamant wing glistens in the low glow of the stage lights that stirs up a pang inside of me.

I’d hacked that part of him away. Taken what I’d thought would maim him, be most important to him other than Wendy.

And yet, here he is, not fully mended, but practically.

I suppose I have my wings back too, but I touch my throat, knowing good and well what I’d trade them for.

In the end, I haven’t touched him.

The Nomad must see the thought process on my face, because he leans over and whispers, “Have you noticed?”

I give him a questioning look.

“He’s right where he found you.”