Page 60 of Slaying With Sylphs

I take a step closer, focusing on her art. It’s all swirls of black and every possible shade of blue. Dashes of red punctuate it at random intervals. And every few inches, there’s a white square with black swirls across it.

“These almost look like letters.” I smile at her. “Want to elaborate?”

She nods. “Yeah, I write them to my sister, Caroline, every other night or so. I miss her so much. She’d have loved Ever. And she’d have been so proud and amazed at the lives her girls are living now. All she wanted for them was safety, health and happiness.” She looks up with a wink. “Maybe I’ll let you read them one day.”

“The triplets definitely got two of those three things,” I say with a laugh, reaching down to rub the thrall bites on her arm. “And I’d love to read the letters one day, if you want me to.”

She places her hand over mine, looking up at me fiercely. “I promise I’m fine, Connall. Truly.”

“I’ll try to stop worrying.” I rub her arm again, then stare at the canvas. “Talk to me about any meaning behind the colors you chose.”

She shrugs and turns, staring at the canvas. Her scent changes, growing harsher. It’s almost tart on my tongue.

“Honestly, I just grabbed whatever colors came to me. And then I got lost in the painting. It felt good to focus like that.”

I smile, knowing I’m about to give her homework.

“Think about what you drew,” I advise. “Next time we get together, I’d like to dive into the specific colors and shapes and talk about why you think you did them that way. Spend some time this week considering it, and I’ll do the same. We’ll compare notes.”

“Alright,” she says quietly, amber eyes moving to my painting. “What’d you paint?”

“Your hair,” I say with a laugh, reaching down to tug on the end of her long braid.

“You’re obsessed. You’re being obsessive and I’ve already got one stalker.” She pinches my side playfully, laughing when I curl into the touch instead of away like she probably thought I would.

“It’s beautiful and varied.” I tip her chin up so she stares into my eyes. “Your hair is every shade of blonde and red mixed together. It’s as diverse as you are, Lou.”

She smirks. “I knew there was a hopeless romantic somewhere in there.”

“I’m serious,” I add on. “There’s a metaphor in here somewhere about how you can be strong and vulnerable, light and dark. You can be opposite things all encompassed within one beautiful Alaya-blessed soul.”

Her smirk becomes a real smile with no sassy edge. “You think your goddess blessed me?”

“I know she did,” I murmur, stroking the side of her neck down to her exposed collarbone. “You haven’t had an easy time of things, Lou, but you’re still here. And what’s more, I believe you can still thrive despite what you’ve endured.”

She glances at her painting then back at me. The first tear falls, but she brushes it quickly away. “I hate crying.”

“Let it out.” I pull her to me and wrap my arms around her. “Let itallout, Lou. Let me shoulder it with you. Let Dirk shoulder it. We want you to be able to let the weight of your hardships go sometimes. You deserve that.”

We stand for a long time, long past the end of our “session.” She cries, and I purr, and when she finally pushes out of my hold to flash a watery smile, I suspect we’ve made real progress.

Ispent all morning with Richard and Lola, prepping for them to be out of town next week on Lola’s first tour as queen. Of course, leave it to my queen to plan a few concert appearances while they’re traveling. I wish I could be there to see her play, but having her in town most of the time means I hear a lot of impromptu electric guitar. She’s a regular karaoke appearance at Bad Axe.

I’m not worried for them to be gone. In fact, I’m looking forward to it. Them being gone and me being in charge makes me feel useful, something I’ve struggled with lately. As a therapist, I remind myself that I have high expectations for my role, that I need to put less pressure on myself. Richard and Lola remind me constantly that they value my contributions. I need to take their praise to heart.

I mull that over as Dirk and I jog through the underbrush surrounding the lake, the only sounds our rapid breathing as heaccompanies me on my daily rounds. I suspect it’s his way of hanging out without it being an official date. Either way, he’s been quieter than I expected, but it’s given me time to think.

The cool scent of water fills my nostrils. We’re nearly back to the lake after a long run. I slow to a walk as the trees thin out, rocks littering the familiar path, then emerge from the trees onto the rock-strewn waterline. The mer-king doesn’t like a lot of activity on the beach. Running would be highly frowned upon. It’s always struck me as odd—they’re a playful bunch as long as he’s not around.

Then again, of all monsters, mermaids have the most rigidly structured society. I’m thankful shifters aren’t quite that bad. Well, not in Ever anyhow.

Dirk is an unusually quiet presence at my back. I wonder if he’s lost in thought about last night the same way I am. We continue along the path, moving away from the water’s edge when I get an idea.

I stop, and he runs into me. Spinning in place, I level him with a stare. Sweat drips down his muscular frame, his chest rising and falling as he moves both hands to his hips.

“Run outta energy, Wolf?” His deep voice hits me square in the chest. Before I even knew how he felt about me, I liked his teasing. Liked the way it made me feel, the way he’d look at me and Lou both. I realize that now. It’s why I never hated him for pursuing her, because I liked him, even then.

I stalk forward until I can plant a hand on his chest.

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