Arthur was handling him with so much care, soft kisses and purposeful touches that set Rory’s skin on fire. He moved his hands up, tucking them under the pillow to stop himself from pulling Arthur closer. “Yeah,” he said shakily. “But anything will work for me. Just a hug, if that’s all you’re comfortable with. Understand? I’m not pressuring you. You’re back in control.”
“I’m trying to believe that.” Arthur kissed under his jaw as he popped two more buttons open on Rory’s shirt. And then he pressed his lips over Rory’s heart. “Thank you for saving my life.”
Rory couldn’t help it; he reached out and ran his hand through Arthur’s hair. “You threw me a lifeline first.”
Arthur smiled against his skin. “I didn’t say you could touch yet.”
“Worst idea ever,” Rory grumbled, tucking his hands back under the pillow.
Except Arthur’s hands now seemed to be making up for the lack of earlier touch, snaking under Rory’s shirt, into his trousers, lighting up every inch of skin they found. When he lowered his weight onto Rory, covering him, Rory’s hands crushed the pillow.
“Jesus,” he said helplessly, his eyes rolling back. “Feels so good, Ace.”
“That’s all I want.” Arthur’s voice broke, like he’d finally let go of something. “I never want to hurt you. I’m so sorry, Teddy, I’m so sorry about tonight. Are you all right? Do you feel safe?”
“Yeah, Ace, I’m okay,” Rory said, meaning every word. “I’m safe with you. Ibelongwith you, like I didn’t know I could belong with anyone.”
“Me too,” Arthur whispered, and stole the rest of Rory’s words with another kiss.
The early sun streamed in through the window on the third floor, catching dust in the beam of light. Arthur’s arm was slung over Rory, who had tucked up against him, back to Arthur’s chest. He could feel Rory’s heartbeat under his palm, his slow, peaceful breaths as his fingers skimmed Arthur’s forearm, light as butterfly wings.
“I never felt like this before.” His voice was rough from sleep, his city accent thicker than ever.
Arthur smiled and tightened the arm around Rory. “Like what? Like you’ve suddenly got yourself a six-foot ball and chain?”
Rory huffed affectionately. “The opposite,” he said, slipping his hand under Arthur’s against his chest and entwining their fingers. Arthur could just make out the small, enchanting smile on his face. “I’ve never felt this weightless. Like I’m in control of my magic, mylife, for the first time. Like I don’t have to be afraid. Like having you has set me free.”
Oh. Arthur squeezed his hand with his larger one, emotion thick in his throat. “I thought you were brave, you know,” he said softly. “When we first met. You were brave in the antiques shop when every day was a struggle to leave your room, and you were brave last night when you saved my life. I have always admired your courage.”
“Me?” Rory squirmed over onto his back, his shoulder now hanging off the mattress, and Arthur couldn’t even make more space because the bed was so small he was already pressed against the wall. “You’re the one who hunts magic even though you got none of your own, because you want to protect everyone else. You’re brave enough to hitch yourself to a paranormal.”
There were no glasses to hide Rory’s sleepy, long-lashed brown eyes, smudged with remnants of yesterday’s kohl liner. His curls were tangled around his face, and Arthur couldn’t resist tugging one. “A paranormalpartner,” he said, stressing the word. “Because that’s what you are, and I swear to you, Teddy, I do know that. And I mean, Christ, you can call a bleedingtornado—you don’t need to be overprotected. Maybe I won’t even worry about the terrible drivers and let you walk on the outside edge of a New York sidewalk.”
Rory’s lips quirked up. “No, you won’t.”
Arthur winced. “No, I won’t,” he admitted. “But I’ll try.”
Rory was still smiling, though. “Speaking of New York.” He reached up and ran his hand over Arthur’s stubbled jaw. “Do we need to take the first ship back to deal with that pomander?”
Arthur hesitated. It was a beautiful, peaceful morning. There were no more torn auras or overwhelming magic, just the two of them, stronger together, their entwined lives stretching out in front of them. Maybe, finally, they had time.
“Well, we’re already here, in Europe,” he pointed out. “And we have, possibly, earned at least a short respite. We could stay in Paris for a few weeks, enjoy the world’s fair. And when we do go, we could take a ship back from another port. Here in France, or in Spain. Or Italy.”
Rory’s smile grew. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, that sounds really good. But what about you? What do you want?”
“Anywhere and anything,” Arthur whispered honestly, leaning down for the kiss, “so long as I’m with you.”
Epilogue
Three weeks later...
“Ace, come on, we got a train to catch!” Rory called out to the hall. He was gonna miss their room in Paris, but they’d be in Milan by evening, then their ship back to New York left next week from Palermo—the same port his mom had left from twenty-five years earlier.
Arthur’s footsteps came down the hall, then his voice. “Don’t you want your mail before we leave?”
Rory furrowed his brow. “How am I getting mail in Paris?”
Arthur stepped into the doorway, a stack of letters in his hands. “Mrs. Brodigan—sorry, Mrs. McIntyre—asked my brother Harry for an address. I used Wesley’s.”
