41. Rune #3
“I’m looking at the security camera feed, Lark. The stockroom camera. The one I installed last month for inventory monitoring.”
Dead silence. The alarm continued to scream.
“There’s a camera.”
“There’s a camera. I’m not looking at the live feed because I have boundaries, but the motion sensor log shows two heat signatures entering the stockroom and a cascade event not long after.
The damage radius appears to involve the promotional display section and the candle inventory.
I’ve opened a second insurance file. ‘Lion altercation, Navy Yard’ was the first. This one is ‘stockroom incident, personal.’ They live in the same folder.
I’ve labeled the folder ‘Ongoing.’ That’s a new folder. ”
Rune, from beside Lark, his face pressed into the crook of her neck: “Tell her I’ll cover the damages.”
“She can hear you. The stockroom has excellent acoustics.” Breezy paused. “I’m disabling the alarm remotely. Please don’t break anything else. The insurance carrier is already reviewing our file with what I can only describe as concern.”
The alarm cut off. Silence flooded the space—warm, ringing, the stunned quiet that follows a catastrophe when the dust settles and the survivors take stock.
Lark dropped the phone on the cape. Looked at Rune. His hair was standing up—not the happy lift, not the aroused spike, but the mortified version, which she had never seen before and which involved the strands at both temples rising straight up and quivering.
“New category,” she breathed. “‘The Mortification Spike.’ Triggered by post-intimate property destruction witnessed by personal assistant via security feed.”
He groaned.
She kissed the groan off his mouth. He tasted like laughter and embarrassment and a man who had controlled every variable in his life and had chosen—deliberately, joyfully, with full awareness of the consequences—a woman who was the variable he couldn’t control and didn’t want to.
The candle puddle reached the edge of the cape.
The authentication solution reached his trousers.
The Celestial Ronin standee lay across the floor like a fallen soldier.
“This is the best night of my life,” she informed him.
“We are naked on the floor surrounded by merchandise damage.”
“Correct. The best night. Of my entire life.” She pulled his face to hers. “And you asked me to wear the cape without me having to suggest it.”
His expression shifted. The mortification faded.
The thing underneath—the warmth, the openness, the man who existed beneath the king—surfaced.
He brushed her hair from her face. Traced the line of her jaw with his thumb.
The touch was gentle and proprietary and entirely without the performance of gentleness—he was gentle because he was gentle, and she was the reason he’d learned to stop hiding it.
His phone buzzed on the floor. Then hers again. Then both at once.
Dekel: The alarm notification went to my phone. I’m not asking questions. I’m simply noting that the last time I received a stockroom alarm at this hour, someone had broken in and stolen a first-edition Spider-Man. I assume this is not that. I am going back to sleep. Good night.
Aspen: brEEZY JUST TEXTED ME. THE CAPE WAS INVOLVED???? THE CAPE I MADE??? IN THE STOCKROOM??? I WILL NEVER RECOVER. THIS IS THE GREATEST MOMENT OF MY DESIGN CAREER.
Oliver: Sybil just told me the alarm went off at the store. She won’t tell me why. She’s SMILING and she won’t tell me WHY. I am being excluded from critical intel and I want it known that I am NOT okay with this.
Sybil: I hope the cape survived.
Breezy: Damage assessment: 1 promotional standee (replaceable). 14 candles (replaceable). 1 bottle authentication-grade cleaning solution (replaceable). 1 silk cape (status pending). 0 rare editions harmed. This is the only reason I am not filing a formal complaint. Goodnight.
Lark typed with one hand, the other resting on Rune’s chest, the mark on her shoulder warm against the cool air.
Lark: The cape survived. We survived. The candles did not. Breezy gets hazard pay.
Rune: The ambient lux levels at the time of the incident were approximately 0%. This contributed to the cascade. I will be submitting a lighting assessment.
Dekel: He’s making lighting jokes now. You’ve broken him. I’m delighted.
Oliver: I want it on record that I called this from the beginning. Sybil told me I was projecting. I was not projecting.
Rune: Noted.
Oliver: …That’s all I get? NOTED?
Rune: You were right. Don’t make it a thing.
Oliver: I AM MAKING IT A THING. THIS IS MY THING NOW.
Dekel, separately, to Breezy:
Dekel: The alarm woke me up. You were already on the line. I noticed.
Breezy: I noticed that you noticed.
Dekel: Are you free for coffee on Sunday?
Breezy: I’ve been free for coffee on Sunday since June. I was wondering when you’d check.
They lay on the ruined cape in the ruined room in the quiet of two stores that had become one, and Lark laughed until her stitches ached and Rune held her and his hair lay flat and the city hummed outside and the candle-scented air smelled like fig and rose and home.
THE END…for now