Chapter Twenty-Five

Cassandra

When she returned to the bedroom, Qadaire was replacing the sheets on the bed. She didn’t think twice about reaching for him, and all of his arms reached for her right back. They naturally maneuvered onto bed again, but this time, she snuggled onto his chest. Feathers engulfed her like a fancy coverlet, his wing draped behind her back and around her hip.

“Hey, there’s something I need to talk to you about.” She petted the feathers on his neck for something to do with her nervous energy. Their intimacy gave her confidence, but the subject was still a hard one.

“Hmm?”

“There’ll be a conference where I address everyone about the cure. I know it would be traumatizing to thrust you on stage, but I had another idea.” His energy was quickly hardening. She rushed to get everything out before he panicked. “We could record a voice clip for my presentation. Just your voice.”

The tension in his muscles where they wrapped around her started to melt as he mulled it over.

“A fine idea, dewdrop.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“I’ll do it.”

With that settled, she kissed his cheek and rolled off the bed. She remembered her stuff was still on the front porch. “I need to grab my bag so I can read to Zero.”

“Allow me.”

Before she registered what was happening, a black blur zoomed out the door in her periphery. A few heartbeats later and he was back, bag in hand. She smiled gratefully and pulled out the book. With a flip through the pages, Zero trotted in from wherever he’d hidden.

“What’s that you’re reading?”

“It’s this series called Scales and Handcuffs. I read to him every night.”

“Yes, I’ve heard.” He grinned mischievously. “That book, though. It’s interesting how much the author got right about dragonic culture.”

Cass blanched. “Dragons are real?”

“Of course.” He nodded as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Have you not wondered what else was out there, if vampires?”

“Well, yeah, I have. But it can’t all be real, right? That’s improbable.”

“Most legends are wildly incorrect. That book, however, is spot-on.”

“Interesting.” She flipped the pages until she reached an author’s note in the back, after the acknowledgments. “This book started as a passion project and has turned into so much more, all because of readers who are part of a relationship with those labeled beastly. Let this be a reminder that if you love someone like this, there are surely others out there.”

Cass slammed the book shut. “I have an idea.”

“I love your ideas.”

“You write a book!” she exclaimed, ignoring his sagging jaw. “We reach out to this author for help. It will probably have to be labeled as fiction or some kind of speculative biography, if that exists. But if she”—Cass waved the book wildly—“wrote this, that proves it!”

Qadaire eyed her apprehensively. He took the book and flipped through it with his top hands while his bottom ones tapped on his crossed arms.

After a long moment of silence, he handed the book back to her.

“You have to admit it’s a great idea,” she prodded.

“I don’t know how to write a compelling story.”

“What do you mean? You’re good at everything you try!”

“You flatter me. I can’t help feeling like we’ll be relying on this author for most of the work.” All of his arms crossed now, he pressed his mouth tightly closed. “Though I suppose there’s no harm in reaching out.”

“Yes! Dude, this could be our key to getting you out of hiding!” She laid a comforting hand on his forearm. “I’m not trying to push.”

He scooped her into his arms and kissed the top of her head.

“When I told you I would do anything for you, I meant it, little dewdrop.”

Cass whipped out her laptop and sat cross-legged on the bed. She tracked down D.G. Crimson’s contact info and sent a lightly detailed email. As she pressed send, her phone buzzed three times in a row. Two were from Mark, asking to meet up. The third was Ali checking on her.

Cass raised a finger to her mouth and barely stopped herself from chewing the nail.

“What is it?”

“My brother wants to meet up.”

Qadaire hummed. “And?”

“Well, it’ll be the first time we see each other in, like, forever. But I’m obviously gonna do it. It’s not that,” she glanced at him sheepishly. “Ali texted me. I kind of told them about you.”

Cass winced as Qadaire’s stoic mask fell into place, which she’d come to know meant he was deciphering his feelings before speaking. Sheesh, there was a lot she could learn from him.

“Are you mad?”

“No, dewdrop,” he answered mechanically. A few more seconds, and he gave a tentative smile. “It’s a surreal feeling to be known.”

“You’ve spent a long time in the shadows.”

“Mmm.” He nuzzled her, tickling her with his obsidian feathers. “I suppose they’d have learned at some point.”

Qadaire’s nuzzles became more forceful. His feather-coated head nudged her hard enough to send her sprawled sideways on the bed.

“Wait, wait! My laptop!” Cass laughed, playfully shoving him aside to shut the screen. There was a little notification symbol on her mail app. She ignored the feathers tickling her side and opened it to scan the email from D.G. Crimson. “Q, look. You were right!”

“Typical.” He didn’t break stride, kissing up her spine in a way that would tickle if she weren’t intent on the email. “What about?”

“I think we have a lot in common. So I’m assuming the book you’re pitching is more than just a fairy tale! I would love to help get your story out there!” Cass grinned. She reined in her excitement when she noticed how stiff Qadaire’s arms were around her. She smoothed a comforting hand over his feathered leg. “There’s more. I looked you up online. I saw the good you did for those poor puppies. Question for you. Do you work primarily on dogs, or all animals? Here in Great Flame, there’s an aquatic creature domesticated by the n?ckens that were brought over by some refugees. They don’t seem to like it here.”

Qadaire’s posture shifted halfway through the second paragraph. They exchanged a curious glance. Cassandra’s hands flew over the keyboard, requesting more details and stating she would need to examine samples from the creatures.

“Wow!”

“Yes, yes. Very interesting,” Qadaire mumbled. “Now get down here.”

With a pretend huff, Cass slid her laptop under the bed and rolled over. “So what’s on the agenda tomorrow? Are we going to lie around in bed all day?”

“Would you object?” He pulled her on top of him, his hands roaming over her back, gently pressing into her muscles.

“No. Maybe. It just feels like we should be doing something.”

“That’s because you push yourself too hard. You need to rest more. Rest is part of the process.”

Cass snorted. “You sound like an inspirational poster.”

“I’m serious, Cassandra.” His lower hands squeezed her ass, making her squirm. “Aren’t I always telling you to let me unburden you?”

“Telling me? You’re more demanding than that.”

Qadaire hummed, his sweet sounds vibrating on her chest. She rested her head in the soft divot between his arms and neck, tracing his gray nipple with her index finger. It was hard to be so still, even with her soul feeling lighter than ever. Her brain kept telling her there was surely something productive she could be doing or planning for right now, regardless that it was late. She used to think of it as a flaw, a reason she was a poor choice of partner. Like she had no space in her busy mind and people had to deal with her nonstop questions hounding them. Not with him. Qadaire understood her chaos and called it beautiful.

“Oh, I know what we should do.” She propped herself up on his chest. “Let’s tend the greenhouse. Juice up the irrigation, maybe do some reenactments.” She wiggled her brow. She wasn’t picturing him at the bottom of the bench this time. “Plus, it smells so good in there.”

“Does it not smell good in here?”

She gave him a flat look. “You know.”

Qadaire smiled tightly. He gave a terse shake of his head, and she realized his hands had gone flat on her backside.

“What’s wrong?”

“The greenhouse is no longer.” Something like grief flickered in his features. “I had to absorb the magic keeping it alive in order to visit your home.”

Rope wound its way around her chest and pulled taut. She closed a hand over her mouth and bit back the sting. He’d sacrificed his sanctuary for her. If only she’d come to her senses earlier, if only she’d come back to him sooner.

If only she’d never left.

“I can see you thinking, woman.” Qadaire swept her hair behind her ears. “Greenhouses can be rebuilt. You are more important.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Say nothing. Just lie here with me. Read me some of that book.”

With a heavy heart, she lifted the book from the pillow and rolled down beside him, her body molding against his naturally. She knew he didn’t need sleep, but he relaxed as she read, Zero at her feet. When it became difficult to stay awake, she drifted to sleep between the two people she cared for the most.