A Little Night Muse(44)

                Afterward, he pulled the comforter around them in a cocoon. She                     could almost imagine it was a sort of portal, taking them to a hidden place even                     the phae couldn’t find.

                He tucked her close under his arm and she kissed his chest.

                “Josh?”

                “Mmm?”

                “About...about you falling...”

                His arm tightened, not a hug, more a warning. “It’s                     nothing.”

                It wasn’t nothing. She didn’t want it be nothing, even though                     that would be best. “A musetta—a muse—inspires. That                     is what we do. That is what we are. We inspire...feelings. And passions.”

                “So you said.”

                There was an edge to his voice, but she couldn’t stop. “What                     you feel isn’t—”

                “I’m only half blind, and I’ve been around myself long enough                     to know what I feel.” He kissed the top of her head and sat up. Cold air rushed                     into the space he left. “I want to check on Wolly and walk around once more.                     It’s okay if you fall asleep.”

                He didn’t return for a long time, and her tears where they                     soaked the tartan plaid turned the yellow threads to gold.





                                      Chapter 8

                In the first rays of morning light, Josh finished                     fixing the last iron blade to the wooden mop handle. The spear looked weirdly                     exotic in a log cabin. But no more out of place than the fairy princess in his                     bed.

                He propped the spear by the front door, next to three others.                     The tools to render down the skillet were out in the shop and he didn’t want to                     leave Adelyn alone, but he’d been able to turn the spoons and log rack into                     useful weapons.

                She wasn’t leaving without a fight.

                But she would leave eventually.

                He had heard it in her voice, in her exquisitely kind attempts                     to tell him his feelings—damn feelings—were confused. Just hours ago, he had                     killed some sort of fairy monster and she thought he was confused about his                     feelings. It wasn’t his feelings that confused him.