"I feel a pulse," Alex said, crouching on Magnus's other side to press two fingers to his neck. "I think we got here in time."
Magnus's body shuddered like an earthquake.
"You did," he croaked. His lashes were stuck together, and his eyes struggled to open. When they did, they shone green as emeralds in his bloody face. Zoe gasped, the glow of his irises too bright to be imagination. The light turned the red that painted his features to a brutal mask, though it left his beauty oddly undimmed. Seeing her amazement, Magnus swallowed painfully. "I guess maybe you have a few questions about this."
"Hush," Zoe urged, not daring to stroke his cheek, he was so cut up. Her heart was breaking for his injuries; to have him hurt was to hurt herself. Tears began to roll unstoppably down her face. "Alex figured out you were a fairy. He found some old newspaper stories about men riding through the falls. You just lie still, and we'll call for help."
Bryan was already digging out his cell phone.
"No," Magnus said in a voice so firm it caused all of them to blink. "I can heal this quicker with no doctors watching. All I need is rest and orange juice. And to get these arrows out."
"I'll get the juice from your house," Bryan said, obviously eager to be out of there. "And a blanket in case you're in shock."
Magnus
was
shivering in her lap, his torso as heavy as a load of bricks. He closed his eyes and got heavier. "I can't believe you found me."
"I can't believe you were trying to convince your mother you were me! That is what you were doing, isn't it?"
His hand found her upper arm and squeezed. "You deserve more of this lifetime, love. You've hardly made a dent in it."
That made her cry harder. "You're an idiot. I have defenses."
"Not against my mother. She's rather more bloodthirsty than you're used to."
"No kidding." Zoe sniffed and dashed her tears away angrily. "Tell me the truth now, Magnus—no stories. Is your being from Fairy the reason you and I couldn't… be intimate the way I wanted to?"
He opened his eyes to smile at her with them, seeming relieved to be asked. "I made a magical agreement, so I could stay in the human realm. I had to win a new heart with each full moon and then give it back. I knew if I took yours, I'd want to keep it. I knew I'd never want to sleep with anyone but you. I would have been sent home as soon as the month ran out. I might never have seen you again."
"So when I thought you didn't trust me, that you didn't love me—"
Magnus took her face between hands that were sticky with his own blood. "I'm so sorry that's what you thought, so sorry I caused you a moment's pain. My heart was yours the day I laid eyes on you. Those other women were all that allowed me to be close to you."
"You could have told me the truth!"
"And risk enraging my mother?" Magnus shook his head. "I can't regret anything I did to keep you from facing her."
Zoe had to bite her lip to still its trembling. Maybe it was too soon, but the words
I love you
were an explosion waiting to break free. Magnus saw them in her expression, and his smile deepened. His beautiful, glowing eyes said everything she'd ever longed to hear from him. He loved her, too. No matter what appearances had suggested, it was there in his warm green gaze.
"Not to break this up," Alex said in an acid tone, "but what are the chances your mother is going to try for Zoe again?"
Magnus waited a beat before shifting his gaze to him. "I don't know. Realizing she almost killed her son may shock her out of more attempts for a while."
"For a while." Alex shook his head, his sea-blue eyes as hard as Zoe had ever seen them. "I'm sorry, Mr. Fairy Guy, but that's unacceptable."
"Zoe is as protected as any human can be."
"And you wouldn't, oh, I don't know, just go home like your mother wants?"
"Alex!" Zoe's cry drew neither of the men's attention from their stare off. "Magnus almost died for me."
"Magnus put you in danger in the first place."
"It's all right," Magnus said, touching her arm before she could speak again. "He deserves an answer more than most. I don't go home because my mother wants me to shore up her shaky rule. One faction would love that. Another hopes I'll depose her—preferably violently. The remainder would like it if I magically split the realm so that nobody ever has to meet anyone who disagrees with them. That was my father's choice, and, given the current situation, I can't say it worked. People simply find new things to fight about. At the moment, I appear to be the only one who knows the cure for Fairy lies not with me, but within each individual fairy heart."
"Which means what?" Alex said, his arms flexing with muscle as they crossed atop his navy polo shirt.
Magnus seemed to recognize the posturing for what it was. The corners of his mouth curved up. "It means magic should be shared and not hoarded. The universe makes room for every fairy's wishes to come true. If everyone understood that, Fairy could support a hundred thrones, including my mother's. But they'd rather believe one person or philosophy must reign supreme, and so they split into parties and sharpen their swords. Live and let live is not a model they understand."
Wincing slightly, Magnus shifted until he sat higher in her lap. With a grunt of effort, and a ruthlessness that made Zoe blanch, he pulled the most uncomfortable of the arrows from the ridged belly muscle where it had lodged. He panted for a moment before continuing. "I cannot rule my people because, in my heart, the only person I believe I have the right to rule is me."
"You could tell them that," Zoe said.
"Love," Magnus said gently, "I lived in my homeland for centuries. Everything I've told you, my people have heard from me and others more eloquent. Change will come one fairy at a time, when and if each chooses."
"A convenient attitude," Alex observed, but not as confidently as he had before. It was, after all, difficult to scold a man who looked more like St. Sebastian than the poster boy for selfishness.
Magnus smiled as gently at Alex as he had at her. "Perhaps we should table this debate for another time. I doubt any of us want to be here if those minions return."
The debate was tabled altogether, in being all too obvious that Zoe and Magnus wanted to be alone. Alex drove himself and Bryan back to their new hotel, where his grumpiness was not improved by what they encountered in the blandly modern lobby.
Admittedly, Alex's last progress report had been a little vague—and wasn't likely to get clearer, given today's events—but he hadn't expected to find Mrs. Pruitt living in wait for them. She looked ten years older than when they'd seen her last, and she hadn't been her freshest then. Circles shadowed eyes that were tired beyond what sleeplessness could cause, and her clothes—jeans and a pastel sweater set—were creased from traveling. The only real snap of life about her was her thin-lipped frown. She was pissed, Alex saw, and gearing up to get pissier.
Far more troubling than her mood was little Oscar's presence. Mother and son both slid from the lobby's blockish ecru chairs when they caught sight of him and Bryan.
"About time," huffed Mrs. Pruitt, as if he and Bryan were late for an appointment.
"Mrs. Pruitt," Alex said, going into soother mode.
"Oh, can it," said Mrs. Pruitt. "Your nicey-nice
GQ
manners are about as much use to me as that damn report."
"Your case is hardly straightforward," Alex reminded her. "We're doing what we can."
"What you can!" she repeated, the words sharp enough to catch the attention of nearby guests. She lowered her voice, though her temper clearly remained at full volume. "And while you do
what you can
, what am I supposed to do with him? Ever since we went to you for help, he's been worse than ever. Yesterday, he rolled my grocery cart to the ice cream section without touching it. People were staring. I thought I was going to die!"
"I didn't mean to," little Oscar whispered. "You said I could have a Fudgsicle."
It was such a typical kid complaint, Alex almost smiled. He lost the urge when Mrs. Pruitt closed her eyes and began to shake.
"Maybe we should take this conversation to our room," Bryan suggested, seeing that, for whatever reason, the end of Mrs. Pruitt's rope had been reached.
Oscar's mother fisted her hands a little tighter. "No," she said, firm and low. "I'm not going one step farther with this freak of nature. You think my life is straightforward? You try living yours with him around your neck."
"Mommy!" Oscar gasped, almost as shocked as Alex and Bryan.
Mrs. Pruitt flinched, not quite as hard-hearted as she appeared. She knelt before the boy.
"It will be all right," she said, smoothing her hands down his Superman T-shirt. "These nice men are going to take care of you. Don't give them any trouble, and you'll be fine."
Two fat tears rolled down Oscar's cheeks.
"Shit," said Bryan. "Mrs. Pruitt, you really can't do this."
Her lips were shaking, but her eyes were as cool as Siberia. "Watch me," she said, and strode stiffly to the revolving door.
"Stop her," Bryan pleaded, but Alex took one look at Oscar and decided he'd better not.
The boy was trembling worse than his mother, his gaze glued to his Wile E. Coyote sneakers, his breath hitching as he fought not to cry harder than he was. Those yellow shoes didn't look so bad to Alex today. They looked like something you might
want
to wear, if you needed cheering up.
"I'm sorry," Oscar said in a quavery voice. His big blue eyes spilled over as they met Alex's. "I tried to stay happy, I really did, but I just can't do it anymore."
Alex scooped him up and held him tight against his shoulder.
"She can't just
leave
him," Bryan murmured, though she obviously had. His hand came to rest beneath where Alex's was rubbing Oscar's back. "What are we supposed to do with him?"
"Keep him safe," Alex answered. "For as long as we have to."
Oscar's head bobbled back to look at him, his tears beginning to dry as he decided whether he ought to believe this assurance. Alex felt like he was staring into a blurred mirror. How had this kid kept it together? How had he stayed happy when the person whose love he should have been able to take for granted kept telling him he was unlovable?
"You're a good kid," Alex said. "I know you are."
Oscar gnawed his lip and nodded unsurely. Alex prayed he wasn't going to cry again. Alex was the youngest in his family. Child care really wasn't in his box of tricks.
"Do you like kittens?" he asked, inspiration—or possibly desperation—striking out of the blue. "Because one of my good friends has a kitten, and I bet he'd love to meet you."
"His good friend also has a kitchen," Bryan added wryly, "and a guest room with an empty bed."
Alex and Bryan exchanged rueful looks. No matter what else was going on, they knew Zoe would help them. She was much too tenderhearted to turn a boy like Oscar away.
Magnus drank a pint of orange juice, ate three Pop Tarts, then took a rather gruesome shower, during which he pulled out the remaining arrows. Zoe sat on the toilet lid while he did this, incapable of helping except to wince and make sure he didn't slip or faint. The swiftness of his recovery amazed her. By the end of the shower he was no longer bleeding, and could walk—albeit slowly—under his own power. Despite him seeming to be out of danger, she knew she wouldn't relax until she had him out of his home and into hers.
Magnus didn't protest her nesting impulse, just handed her the keys to his 4x4 and let her drive.
Once she had him at her place, she settled him on the overstuffed saddle leather couch in her living room, covering him with one of the quilts her Nana Sonia had stitched. He smiled through her fussing, his eyes sleepy but fond, his big, smooth muscles looking relaxed.
Seeing a nap was about to happen, and not wanting to miss out, Corky scrambled up the quilt to join him.
"I'd sleep better with my head in your lap," Magnus pointed out, his hand swallowing the kitten as he petted it.
"Oh, would you?" Zoe said, but she didn't mind scooting onto the couch under him.
He had his shirt unbuttoned and, though none of his wounds still bled, he was all over bruises, as if his body were a steak someone had been trying to tenderize. Zoe traced the edges of his wounds with her fingertips, aghast at the thought of what she'd almost lost. If they'd arrived a minute later… if she'd let Bryan convince her to return to the car…
An unexpected moan had Zoe pulling back her hand.
"Sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"You didn't." Amused lines fanned around his eyes. "It's just, if you keep touching me like that, I'm going to have more aches than I already do." He lifted his hips in explanation, drawing her eyes to the not-so-subtle hump forming under the quilt.
"Oh," she said. Heat lapped through her in a torrid wave. "I would have thought you'd be too…"
He pressed her hand to a spot just beneath his ribs, keeping it in place with his. "Fairies like a lot of sex, Zoe, Need it, if it comes to that. We have a saying that if a fairy on his deathbed can't get it up, you know he's truly passed."
"But I thought—" She wasn't sure what she thought, because her head wasn't really working. Lucidly, Magnus understood.
"Zoe, had it been possible, I would have happily, gratefully, delightedly spent every urge I had on you. You are the only woman I want in my bed."
"So when you only had sex once a month—"
"I was holding back."
"Because of me. Because you didn't want to hurt me by having sex as often as you normally would."
"Yes," he said solemnly.
Zoe fought not to squirm beneath him. Her sex was pulsing inappropriately, hot and wet and ready for action.
"How often?" she burst out.
Magnus laughed and circled her wrist with stroking fingers. "Oh, half a dozen times a day would be sufficient. More for young fairies."
"Haifa dozen!" Her jaw had fallen. "But that's—no wonder you always went all night when you finally took someone!"