Page 58 of Midsummer Phoenixes
“No, you did just fine. I love them.”
“They’re not your Godzilla towel, I know.”
“I have a Mothra one too, but I like these now.”
Amory couldn’t know that it had been years—decades since I’d been given anything. And those pictures the asshole had given me back then still hung in my living room right now, sans the one with Caecilius in it of course. And yes, maybe the asshole had left me in a fucking tower owned by his pack with orders to make sure I got something sweet for the holidays each year, but it didn’t fucking count. This wasn’t like that. This was real.
I swallowed, my throat tight. “All that’s mine is yours. All I am is yours. If you are weak, I will carry you, and if I am weak, I shall lean on you. You will hear my truth, and I’ll guard yours, until death.” I said the words in a rush, barely thinking as I dragged them from their original language into this one. They were such an old handfasting vow, but in this moment, they felt right.
“Uh, okay,” Amory said and put a hand on my shoulder. “Sounds good to me.”
As far as I was concerned, that counted as an acceptance of the vow and its reciprocity. The nice Moonlight Diner napkins and the canned food, the diner at large would have to suffice as witness to this vow.
I nodded. “This means a lot to me, my heart. I’m more than grateful.” He didn’t know quite yet how grateful, but I had prepared to let him know these past three months. There was no sugar in my sugar bowl currently, because that was the type of secrecy these preparations demanded.
“Good.” He took the bag from me. “You want me to carry it home for you?”
“No. Leave the bag here. I’m not letting go of this. Or you.” I held out my hand to him. “Ready to go?”
He nodded. “Ready.”
CHAPTER SIX
The young Star-Garbed—Jules—was there to greet us again this night. I ignored him. Amory greeted him by name.
“Do you want to eat before or after?” I asked when the elevator doors closed behind us.
Amory cocked his head. “Before or after what?” He blinked twice. “Oh. Uh, is after okay?”
I grinned like a villain as I clutched the towel-wrapped journal to my chest. “Oh, yes.”
We said nothing when the elevator arrived on the nineteenth floor, though Amory’s breathing was picking up. I took a little longer than normal with the keys, held the door for him. He walked through. I shut the door with more force than it needed.
“So I hear you want to be chased, Amory.” He spun and his slack jaw and wide eyes made my blood rush with lust. I lifted the book. “I’ll put this down and take off my coat. Then I’ll come for you.” I looked him over. “If you are still dressed by the time I catch you, it’s my right to tear those clothes off you.”
“But—”
“Just going to put this down.” I walked into my former armory.
And he ran, I heard. Well, he stumbled, seeing as how he was also at the same time struggling to get his clothes off. I heard his jacket drop to the floor, heard him groan and the inconvenience of shoes.
My grin spread even further. This was going to be fun.
I put the book on a shelf, careful to bed it on the towels. Then I pulled the ink from my coat pocket. I’d use that to write in there. Recipes? Maybe. His favorite foods, his reactions to them. I’d write out the recipe for Osterbrot even though I knew that like I knew my own shadow.
I shrugged off my coat and put it on a hanger neatly before sing-songing, “Oh, Amory, ready or not.”
I still had my shoes on. Those would give me even more of an edge, not that I needed it with Amory, who’d not lived lifetimes learning the art of the escape like I had.
I turned and dashed out the door. He was by the windows, looking unsure of where to go. The dining table would put him in a corner, the kitchen was very optimistic. The stairs, maybe.
I grinned. “Amory, are you still wearing your shirt?”
“Uh.”
He fumbled with the buttons even as I stalked closer. He also still had his underwear on, his socks too.
I broke into a sprint and jumped the couch, just to get him to move. That feat of athleticism made him freeze for a moment, and he dashed toward the stairs, scrambling up them.
