Arcana Rising (The Arcana Chronicles #4)(71)

This morning, I’d awakened to find a bloom in a vase beside the bed. He’d grown the rose himself, had planted the seed two months ago.

Roses could be difficult to grow from seed, so for him to have made the effort . . . and to bring forth a bud . . .

He’d given me the very first one.

A white rose, like the one on his flag. I’d painted it; he’d grown it.

Symbols, waypoints. The rose connection between us had spanned centuries and was ongoing. Just like Lark and Finn’s infinity connection endured.

I tilted my head at her. “You’re not really asking me about living together, are you? You’re trying to girl-talk with me. About sex.”

“Duh.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve never done it—girl-talk or the deed—and you have, so . . .”

“So you want to know what sex is like?” Aric and I did spend a lot of time at it.

Early on, he’d coaxed me to describe in detail every sexual dream I’d had about him—so he could recreate them. Last week in the dance studio, he’d fulfilled another one. After I’d danced for him, he’d peeled off my workout clothes, lifting me atop the barre so he could lick my damp skin, wedging his hips between my thighs. . . .

I told Lark, “It’s exciting.” Understatement. As he and I discovered what our bodies could do together, we experimented a lot. Just this morning, that white rose had led to some kissing and then more.

Much more.

I nearly fanned myself, quickly diverting my thoughts from that memory. Clearing my throat, I said, “Imagine the thrill you get from flirting—when your stomach knots and your toes curl and you can’t catch your breath—and multiply it by a thousand.”

Lark got a dreamy look on her face.

“I think Finn will make you really happy.”

Her pointed ears twitched. “Are you happy with Death?”

I was madly in love with him. So why was his wedding ring still in my pocket?

Yesterday I’d headed to the training yard early, determined to give him the ring. He’d been on horseback, looking as devastating as ever. . . .

His body went tense when he caught sight of me. That’s my husband. He dismounted and stalked toward me, spurs ringing, his gaze gleaming in the dark like a shower of stars. “I missed you, wife.” His expression was possessive—and intent.

Pulse racing, I stepped back. He moved closer. There I was, stalked by Death, and I had to fight the urge to run into his arms.

He maneuvered me till my back met the stable wall. He dipped down to kiss my neck, having quickly discovered how sensitive I was there.

I sighed, just about to give him the ring . . . when snow started to fall.

He felt me stiffen and pulled back to search my face. “What is it, love?”

I gazed up at him and lied: “Not a thing.”

Now I told Lark, “I’m crazy about Aric.”

“That’s not what I asked, Eves. Are you happy?”

“When I’m with him and I can forget everything that’s happened, then I . . .” I what? “Then it’s good.”

Her expression said she didn’t really believe me, but she was going to let it go. “When I get Finn back, I wanna sleep with him. A lot.”

“Paul’s got contraceptive shots.”

“Sweet! I’ll leave the breeding to my animals.”

I made a sound of agreement. Sing it, sister. “Why are you breeding them so much?” She’d been committed to it before, but never like this.

“I’m nervous all the time, and it makes me feel safer. It’s like stress-eating. Consider it stress-breeding.”

“Why are you nervous?”

“Because we’ve got freaking Poseida out there, threatening to tsunami us! I’m not pointing a claw or anything, but I’m pretty sure the river ate one of my tigers.”

“Come on, no, it didn’t.” I scoffed, but did I really know? Probably not a good time to tell Lark that Circe was . . . moving among us.

“The Priestess might like you and the boss, but who am I to her? I don’t want to go the way of that tiger.”

“The fictional tiger victim that was fictionally eaten?”

She raised her chin. “If the water gets much higher, the menagerie will flood.”

Waves did lap at the compound gates. Each time Aric had planned to talk to Circe about working a spell for us, the water had frothed. I’d held him back.

“You saw her tidal wave,” Lark said. “How big was it?”

I admitted, “As tall as a skyscraper.”

“What’s to stop her from destroying us all? From destroying all my animals?”

“Nothing.” The Priestess could swat us like flies. “There’s nothing we could do to stop her. But we trust her not to hurt us. Just like I trusted you not to rip out my throat when Cyclops slept in my bed.” Sometimes he still scratched at the door at night and whimpered in vain. I spoiled him with treats to compensate.

“Trust, huh?” Lark said, adding in a strange tone, “That’s about all we have.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re not exactly packing a big punch these days. Not like when you fought off Ogen. And you don’t have the Fool or Jack watching your back. Or Selena and Tess, or Joules and Gabriel. We don’t have Ogen.” She shook her head. “And Death . . .”