Page 82 of Jinxes and Drumsticks

“We already hashed that out, you bitch,” Lillith says.

Bastion vanishes somewhere into the back of the store, grumbling something about marking and wastefulness. I give his retreating form a withering look.

“Make yourself at home, Damien,” Wren says with a smile. “I’m going to go get some tea and snacks.”

“Here, I’ll show you my favorite spot to sit,” Lillith says.

She leads me to a corner tucked away beneath a loft. There are a couple of comfy looking papasans, a macrame hammock, and an enormous sofa that looks like it will swallow us up in comfort. I scoop Lillith up into my arms and she lets out a startled yelp as I plop us down onto the couch. I wind my arms around her middle and crush her against me. She’s smiling as I lean in to kiss her and she goes languid in my arms as soon as our lips meet.

I moan into her mouth as she combs her fingers into my hair, pulling just enough to cause a dull little ache that makes me melt. Our tongues meet for a brief moment, then I break away from her mouth to brand her neck, nipping and biting as her legs squirm.

“Damien,” she whispers though a sigh. “They’re going to see us.”

“Let them see,” I say, lips brushing against her neck before creating a tight seal to mark her. “Especially Bastion Bingbong.”

She laughs before her breath hitches, and she lets out the most amazing little whimper that has me wanting to march her back home and get her undressed. I pinch her skin between my sharpened teeth and she squeaks as I hold onto it.

“Really?”

I know that voice. That’s Bastion.

I take my time parting from her neck, licking my teeth as I meet eyes with him. “Welcome back, Blunderbitch.”

He squints at me and rolls his eyes. “Listen. I just want to enjoy tea and cakes without losing my appetite.”

“And I want to make out with my girlfriend.”

“Do it in private,” he says.

“Big words from someone who picked her for very public sex with multiple onlookers,” I say.

“That was sacred, you swine,” Bastion says. “Don’t talk about things you don’t understand.”

“Guys, don’t fight,” Lillith says.

“Is this what you want?” Bastion asks her, pointedly. “To have a man who just helps himself to you whenever he so pleases?”

Lillith sighs, and I listen to make sure this is something she enjoys. Her lips set into a firm line, and her brows angle downward. “Bastion... yes. This is what I want,” she says. “You’re really asking me if I want to have a partner who can’t keep his hands off of me? Who lets me know all the time how much he’s into me? Yes, Bastion. I want that.”

Bastion has the good grace to look a little chastened. He runs his hand through his burnished hair before wiping it down his face. “I can’t fathom enjoying it,” he says, and I’m about to retort something when he continues. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t. I’m sorry for assuming you were uncomfortable. It’s just... so strange to see you with someone. I thought...”

Lillith’s expression softens. I don’t understand why. Bastion seems like a massive dick to me. But then Lillith says, “Bastion. I’m not giving up on anything. I’m not going away. I’m not leaving The Buried City behind.”

“But a handfasting between a Nightingale and a Bramblethorn... The power created from that union…”

Lillith heaves out a sigh, looking... guilty. “I know you’re worried about the future of The Buried City, and how magic seems to keep waning. But maybe this is it, Bastion,” she says, placing a hand on my chest. “Maybe we need to start pulling more mortals in and sharing the power. Maybe we need to give more people access to it, so magic can return to the world, little by little. Keeping it in a handful of families down here... I think that’s why it’s dwindling.”

Bastion nods, and I think I see it. The thing Lillith is speaking to. That sort of weight that rests on his shoulders. At first blush, it seems like Bastion is some sort of magical bloodline purist—some sort of well-to-do haughty asshole who sneers at relationships like this one. But maybe not...maybe this is someone who loves his home and sees the end of it coming on the horizon.

As if sensing my curiosity, Lillith looks at me and explains, “Our families are the ones that came up with this place,” she says. “The Bramblethorns, The Nightingales and The Robledos all tied their magic to this place. It needs at least one of us either here or in the fabric of the in-between to remain stable, but with it, we all have a place to stay safe in case something like the witch trials ever takes place again.”

“But magic is waning?” I ask.

“Yes, and we’re not really sure where it’s going,” Bastion says, coming to sit down on one of the papasans, leaning back and crossing one leg over his knee. His sullen expression softens when he looks at us again, and his lip pulls into a tired, crooked smile. “You do look happy, Lilipad.”

She smiles and nods. “I am,” she says, and my heart just feels buoyant with love for her. I catch a glimpse of my new tattoo and feel that love all over again. I lean forward to kiss her temple and tug her back closer to me.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” I say, nuzzling into her neck.