Page 112 of When the Wicked Sing
Mariana scoffed. “Oh, sure, like you have an almighty power to reign down chaos at any given moment. You’re not that powerful, Dax! That’s only an excuse—”
“You areeverythingto me! Don’t you get it!” Dax shouted. His hands gripped her shoulders, then eased away as he stepped back. Mariana stared at him in shock as he scrubbed his face with his hands before swiping them over his short hair and resting them on his neck.
“You are everything to me,” he repeated softly, the words trembling with restraint. His gaze lifted to meet hers, slow and deliberate. “But Halia gave me a warning. My divided loyalties threaten her—and she has the power to destroy me. To destroy my family.” He swallowed hard, his voice dropping even lower. “And now, you.” He looked away, jaw tightening. “I’ve lost everything before. I can’t let that happen again.”
The pain on his face made her chest feel like it was caving in, and all she wanted to do was make it better. The fire in her heart died down to a smoldering pile of ash. Gathering her strength, she took a hesitant step toward him. “Halia doesn’t scare me,” she said softly, taking another step. “What scares me is losing you.” When she tilted her head to look up at him, she rested a hand on his cheek. “Tell me what’s going on in that mind of yours.”
“You don’t want to know,” he whispered darkly, trying to pull away, but she settled both her hands on his face and held firm.
“Yes, I do. Don’t think you can make decisions for me. You can’t.”
With a sigh, Dax rested his hands on her hips, one corner of his mouth tilting up. “That’s right, you’re a queen now,” he said, glancing at the crown nestled into her hair.
“Yes, I am. And you have to do as I say.” She smirked up at him and wiped her thumb over his paint-stained cheek. “To start, you’re going to show me what you were up to in that room and why you’re covered in paint.”
With a heavy sigh and a glimmer of anticipation, Dax took her by the hand and pulled her toward the open door behind him.
Mariana’s jaw dropped as she peered inside.
Small jars of every color imaginable lined the back of the room. Light spilled in from the large window on the left, glinting off the glass jars like a radiant rainbow. Easels and canvases were stacked on the right beside a desk covered in so much paint that it was impossible to know what type of wood it was made of. And in the center, resting on an easel, was a painting of her.
Mariana touched her lips as she stared at the artwork in awe. The image was from when she had been in Kythera. She was sitting on the balcony, wrapped in the fur blanket, her hair off to the side, exposing the column of her neck. Her face was painted in every shade of the sunset they’d witnessed that evening. It was angled in a way that indicated he had painted it the way he remembered as he sat beside her.
“I’ve never seen myself look like that before,” she breathed. Her eyes scanned every stroke of paint, every detail from her tattooed shoulder to the subtle hint of the scar on her face.
“Look like what?”
Mariana blinked back tears as she realized how he made her feel. “Like someone who just emerged from a storm. Strong, brave … beautiful.” Her voice cracked, and she couldn’t recall the last time someone had made her feel this way.
Dax lifted her hand and placed a gentle kiss on it. “I remember that moment so vividly. I couldn’t get it out of my head, so I put it down on canvas, thinking it would help me in some way. Looking at you while the setting sun lit up your face … that was the moment I knew.”
Mariana pulled her eyes away from the easel and gazed at him. “Knew what?”
He swallowed hard, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Without you, there’s no light in my world.”
If a heart could sing, Mariana’s would have been lost in a serenade of melodies beyond her control.
She took a step toward him and pulled his head to hers, resting their foreheads together. His strong arms slid around her waist.
“Never write a goodbye letter to me ever again,” she whispered in quiet demand.
“Never.”
With that word written in ink on her soul, she gently brought her lips to his. Breathing him in, she began washing away the contents of the heartbreaking letter from her mind. She’d never forget the way she felt when she read his confession of caring too much for her, that he couldn’t risk his darkness infecting all the light she reflected.
Pulling back from their kiss, Dax dragged a finger under the strap of her dress, which had been revealed when the shimmering cover fell off one shoulder.
“Why are you wearing something a fae would wear?” His words were low, caressing every curve and making her breath uneven.
“It was given to me for the party tonight,” she breathed. Her skin shivered as his finger began dragging the strap down. “The invite said, ‘come wearing art.’”
Dax’s lips lifted. “Mari, you don’t need any of this. You’re already a masterpiece.”
The shimmering layer fell to the floor.
“Dressing like a fae won’t change that,” he whispered against her neck.
The other strap slipped down her shoulder, and her breath hitched.
