Chapter 19
Colette
Itake a deep breath. I can do this. “I think the locking mechanism’s solution should tie into my character’s relationship with her mother.”
Archer stills as only a vampire can. “Go on.”
It feels like I’m naked in front of him. That my voice is about to be too loud. I’d love to blow out the candles and hide my face. But he didn’t shy away from my tears. He appreciates the full spectrum of feelings. I don’t have to be happy all the time, despite what I thought I learned growing up.
“Colette, take your time. I can work on our opening while you gather your thoughts.”
Mossette trots up to him, and he lifts her into his lap, not seeming to notice how he tucks her against him as he begins to scribble on his parchment.
My chest aches, and the mate mark tingles over my skin.
The mark is right. No matter how unhinged, I have fallen in love with this half-vampire, half-goblin male.
There’s no place I’d rather be more than right here, at his side.
I swallow and wipe my palms on my dress. “Before I get into that, I want to share something with you.”
“I’m here,” he says calmly, patiently.
“I want to share something shadowy from my life. I never really dwelled on this as an adult, but I think it’s why I have trouble allowing myself to be sad.”
He nods and almost smiles, the kindness in his eyes making me love him even more than I already do.
“I grew up in a house bursting with people. There were seven of us children. We never had enough money. I just tried to keep it all together, to make my family as happy as they could be despite our challenges. I think maybe I am still attempting to do that now, even though my family is in Kingstown and I’m on my own.
I’m trying to keep anything sad hidden, pushing it away to maintain happiness. ”
“It’s understandable. I never wanted to shake the boat, so to speak, in my house with my father and brothers. You and I were doing our best.”
I take a deep breath and wring my hands. “I want my character to use her full range of emotions. To stop shying away from memories as we move into the last scene. When she lost her mother, she began using humor as a deflection method.”
Archer nods, and I appreciate the fact that he doesn’t try to finish my thought and instead sits there petting Mossette. He is listening intently, his red-brown gaze fixed gently on me.
“Even though she acts like the death was expected and nothing to dwell on, her mother and her mother’s words are almost always on her mind. What if the locking mechanism was tied to the time they spent in the garden?”
Archer tilts his head and nods again. “I like this direction. I’m listening.”
My mind whirls, grabbing the loose threads of seemingly random ideas and weaving them into a story. I love this feeling.
“I can see them. The character as a young girl tending pink roses in the center of her mother’s garden. Her mother points to the plum tree and explains how the rose and the plum are cousins. How they are different, but also, the same.”
“I didn’t know that. Tell me more.”
A grin tugs at my lips. I love Archer’s unending curiosity. Most folks wouldn’t care to hear about the ins and outs of plants or any of my niche interests. Well, Lysandra does, but Archer is the second, which is impressive because I know a lot of people.
“They’re both part of the rose family. Plums, peaches, cherries, raspberries. Apples too. All of them have five-petal blooms. They each have a type of drupe fruit as well.”
“What does that mean?”
“Fruits with a stone. With a large seed in the center.”
Archer nods. “Ah, yes. Go on.”
“So the locking mechanism could feature a rose in the center, and that’s what sparks the character’s memory of that moment in the garden with her mother.
She’s been shying away from all those memories because of the pain.
When she recalls this, it hurts, but it’s beautiful too.
The warmth of the memory calms her down despite what’s happening upstairs at the manor house and the danger they’re in.
Let’s say the mechanism has a rose-shaped dial in the center.
Around the dial are several types of fruits and plants. Leaves and blooms and so forth.”
“Sounds lovely.”
“It is. And there is poetry in that, right?” I ask.
His eyes sparkle, and I wonder what exactly that smirk of his means.“Being trapped by something lovely?” His voice is almost a purr. “Yes, yes there is.”
Oh. Does he have the mark too? My thoughts scatter like leaves in the winter wind.
“Colette, are you all right?” Archer is handing me Mossette, which shows how much he has learned about me. It’s the perfect move.
I accept Mossette and stroke her back until she’s purring and my thoughts are lined up again. He doesn’t have the mark. He would have said something, surely.
“When the character lines up the rose dial with each related plant in maybe alphabetical order according to the Old Tongue names, then the lock opens.”
Archer sits back, smiling widely. “Colette, that’s it. You’ve done it.”
“It’s not too sad though, right? This is meant to be a light short story.”
“You know the answer to that.”
And he’s right. I do. Difficult, unhappy emotions have their place. “Shadows help us see the light.”
“Yes!” Archer stands and immediately begins pacing. I haven’t seen him fired up like this, but I’m loving it. “That’s the last line of our story! It’s perfect!”
I lift Mossette’s front paws to make her dance and she meows happily, still purring. I feel as light as the feather on my new quill. Lighter and more myself than ever before.
I stare as Archer goes on about the scene, suggesting dialogue and increasing tension. His words are nearly too fast to comprehend, but I chuckle and jot down bits that fit and ideas that expand on his.
We flow. The story spills out like the ink has its own mind on the page.
And just like that, we finish the short story’s rough draft.
I leap from my chair, holding Mossette high. “We have to get pastries!”
Archer laughs and takes Mossette. He sets her gently on my bed. “I mean, we have them every time we’ve written together. Why would completion be any different?”
“Because this time, we’re getting an entire plate of goodies!”
“But we’ve already had Snowlight cookies,” he says, pointing at the two remaining iced treats on her bright and messy desk.
I point my quill at him like it’s a dagger. “Don’t ruin this.”
Archer spreads his hands wide. “Forget I said anything. Let’s go destroy our good health!”
I blow out the candles as I laugh, then I lead him out of the room. On the landing halfway down the stairs to the common room, the inn’s magical scent rises along with the carpet runner. Archer and I are pushed together. He yelps and catches me, looking down at me. His eyes are sparkling again.
“This inn is incorrigible.”
“Seems like that doesn’t annoy you like it once did.”
He glances at the empty main room. It’s a quiet day at the inn with everyone out enjoying the fresh snow and bright sun.
“May I?” Archer says to me, his hands gently holding me close against him.
He smells wonderful, and I lean closer, my heart beating wildly. “Are you wanting to kiss me, vampire?”
“I am.”
“Please, carry on.”
The corner of his lips lifts to show a fang, and desire sparkles down my body.
He presses his mouth to mine, and I part my lips, welcoming the slide of his hot tongue over mine.
The mate mark seems to shiver with delight.
Archer nips my bottom lip and heat spreads across my chest and simmers low in my body.
One of his hands finds my braid and holds it firmly while his other hand smoothes its way to my lower back.
I can feel exactly how turned on Archer is.
I break away, panting and savoring the flush of his cheeks. “Are we going to strip right here?” I say, laughing.
He kisses me again, growling quietly in the back of his throat.
He gently sweeps the tip of his tongue over my top lip and I’m more excited than I’ve ever been in my entire life.
I’ve had plenty of lovers. Good ones too.
But this is different. I feel like I’m home, like I’m flying, like I was born to kiss Archer.
With a quick movement, he lifts me into his arms and hurries back up the stairs. I forgot how strong vampires and goblins are. He makes the chore seem easy. The inn opens its door for us and then lights the candles once more. This is happening.
“I’ve wanted you since day one, Archer,” I admit as he lays me on the bed.
Thankfully, Mossette seems to have wandered off. I wouldn’t have wanted to subject her young eyes to what’s about to happen.
“I was in denial,” he says shyly. “But I’ve wanted you all this time too.”
“You have?”
And then I remember. He’s going to see my mark.
I freeze, and he draws away.
“We don’t need to do this, Colette. I’m satisfied with whatever you’re willing to give me.”
“No, it’s not that.”
He looks to the side like his mind is wandering to something unpleasant. “Actually,” he says, “it’s good you stopped us. I need to tell you something. I should have told you earlier.”
We sit up, side-by-side.
“I’m listening,” I say.
Fear frosts my heart, and I touch my dress, absently tracing the mark hidden under the fabric and the laces of my corset. The look on his face says this confession isn’t going to be something small. This is big. Is it his mark or something else?