Firelight against black walls, something—someone?—rutting in the shadows.
Then a light, already dim, extinguished.
Probably just a stress dream—a sexual stress dream. Though she hadn’t gone to bed stressed. She’d been happy—ridiculously so—then Keegan had made her happier yet—and exhausted, so sleep had come easily.
But she was stressed now, and couldn’t say precisely why.
She watched Bollocks bound out of the water, leap through the mists as she heard the door open and close behind her.
“You’re wet,” she warned Bollocks as Brian strode toward her. “Be polite.”
Instead of leaping on Brian, Bollocks sat, held up a paw to shake.
“And a fine morning to you as well.” Brian handed Breen one of the slices of toast he held before he shook the offered paw. “I thought you might like some yourself.”
“Now that you mention it.” Breen bit into the toast he’d loaded with butter and raspberry jam. “Thanks.”
“Marco tells me you train—exercise—in the mornings, then write your stories.”
“That’s the usual routine. I missed a lot of both when I was in the Capital. Marco’s not a morning person. But once he’s up, he’ll work.”
“On the machine, the computer.”
“He’s a whiz on it.”
“And with the cooking and the music as well.”
“Multitalented, our Marco.”
“I love him, and wish for a life with him.”
She lowered her coffee, let out a long breath. “That’s really fast.”
“I know it, but it’s as real as anything I’ve known. This isn’t just a moment for me. Not just a day or a week. It’s always.”
She’d seen it, she admitted, in both of them. Maybe she had a dozen questions about where it would go, where it could go with two people from two worlds. But what mattered, what really mattered, was love.
“You make him happy, so you make me happy. His family—not his sister, but the rest of his family…”
“He’s told me. I’m sorry for them.”
She turned to him now, felt a strong and definite click of connection.
“So am I. That’s exactly how I feel. Sorry for them because they can’t see how amazing he is. How good and kind and bright and beautiful he is. They only look through one prism, so they can’t see him.”
“But you’re his family, you and Sally and Derrick. He has you, and now he has me. He’ll have my family, who’ll love him as I do. And when Talamh and all is safe, we’ll make a life together.”
With that said, they watched the wet dog roll blissfully in grass damp with dew.
“You wonder how we’ll make that life,” Brian added. “We’ll find a way. Love finds it, and you’ve only to follow. Now I must go, as I have duties. You have duties to your stories, or you’d call for Lonrach. I know what it’s like those first days as a rider. You could ride forever.”
He handed her his empty mug. “Bright blessings on you, Breen Siobhan.”
“And on you, Brian.”
She watched him walk into the woods, wings spreading as he did. After he’d flown into the trees, she let out a little sigh.
“Okay, pal, let’s go inside. It’s time for us to report for duty.”
It felt good, she decided, really good to slide back into routine. Get her blood moving with a workout, get her head back into the story with the writing.
By the time she took a break—time for a Coke!—Marco sat at the table working on his laptop.
“You check your email?”
She winced. “Not yet. I was—”
“Good thing your publisher copies me. Anyway, they’re thinking of doing a little drawing of Bollocks at the chapter headings. Maybe just one repeated, maybe a variety.”
“Well, that would be great.”
“What I said. So I’m going to take him out in a bit, get some pictures to send them. They have the ones you’ve posted on the blog, or I’ve posted on other social media, but I figured more can’t hurt. Did you eat anything?”
“Yes, Daddy. Brian made me toast.”
He lit right up. “You saw him? He didn’t wake me up before he left.”
“I was already up.”
“How did I get to be crazy about two people who think it’s normal to get up at dawn?”
“Just lucky, I guess.”
“You’d be right. He left this on the bed for me.”