Page 79 of Her Unending Horizon

“Stop it Kael,” I wailed to the empty walls of my apartment. “Just fucking stop it. Seris doesn’t need to rest. She needs you!”

Seris leaned in and kissed the bruise along his rib cage, slow and reverent, fingertips tracing the damage like a benediction. She couldn’t speak—her voice stolen years ago—but her actions screamed devotion.

I slammed my pencil down. “No! Stop it, Seris! You’re mad at him. Furious for the chances he’s been taking. Yeah, you know why he’s been putting his life at risk, but you can’t stand how he hasn’t seemed to care enough to come back to you whole and safe.”

I erased half the panel, jaw clenched.

This time, I gave Seris a fiercer expression, hair wild, eyes blazing. She grabbed a fistful of Kael’s hair and yanked his head down for a kiss that meant war, not comfort.

Better.

Then Kael threw off his gloves, cupped her cheeks and kissed her back, soft, whispering against her mouth, “You terrify me. If you won’t take care of yourself, then I’ll do it for the both of us.”

No! He wasn’t supposed to notice the magic she’d been exerting against the wizard. She’d been sure she’d kept it hidden.

Dammit! Where’s my angry sex?

They tumbled together into a gentler kiss, limbs tangled, armor clattering to the floor. The Sorceress’s shroud swept across them, veiling the page as their bodies merged into silhouette and magic.

I sat back and glared at the board.

“Goddammit,” I hissed. “That is so not angry sex!”

I checked my phone.

7:30 AM.

Good enough.

I hit Zoe’s contact.

She answered on the second ring with a voice that sounded like she’d been smoking two packs a day for forty years. “Somebody better be in an ambulance, that’s the only reason for such an early call. My store doesn’t open until eleven.”

“If I bring muffins and coffee from Java Jolt,” I said, “will I be forgiven for waking you up?”

There was a long pause. Then… “What kind of muffins?”

“A variety.”

“Sold. Get here fast.”

I smiled despite wanting to cry and started gathering my things.

Zoe was three muffins in by the time I reached the climax of my recounting, and I watched her demolish the blueberry like Ruby would never sell another one.

She wiped crumbs from her mouth and stared at me. “So, what you’re telling me is that you’re a slut.”

“Hey!” I threw a balled-up napkin at her. “Easy with the name-calling. I’m only a slut for my husband. Therefore, I’m not sure the term slut really applies.”

“Oh, it applies,” Zoe grinned, reaching for an apple cinnamon muffin. “Your morals did a full somersault.”

“Did you hear anything I said about the part where he’s still actively working on self-destruction?”

“Oh, I heard it.” Zoe sipped her coffee that she’d doused with four teaspoons of sugar. “I even heard the part where he accused you of fucking him to cure him, which was downright vicious.”

I sank back into my chair. “Yeah. It was,” I whispered. That still stung.

“He also said he loves you desperately,” she added. “Which does soften the blow slightly.”