Page 40 of Her Cruel Dahlias
Cricket was relieved that, at this moment, she didn’t have to think about murdering someone. That it was just him and her in this small space, in this temporary escape. She liked the comforting feeling of his palm cradling her face, and surprising herself, she wanted more of him in that moment. Her gaze trained on his shapely lips while her digits brushed his leather collar. “I never see you take this off. Even when you sleep.”
“Only if I’m replacing it with a new one,” Zephyr said softly. “I never look at myself in the mirror when it’s off, and I’ve never shown myself to anyone without it.” He released her face, making her shiver without his warmth. She blinked in astonishment as he unbuckled the collar at the back of his neck.
Her hands grasped his arms. “You don’t have to feel like you need to show me.”
“I want to. My head really won’t fall off, but I do have a reminder here.” He peeled the collar from his throat, then ran his digit across a scar that went halfway around his neck, pink and raised.
Cricket couldn’t keep herself from bringing her fingers up to touch his scar. “Is this from…?” She didn’t have to say the words from when he was murdered—he seemed to know what she meant to say as he nodded.
“It is. After raising Juniper from the dead, Mistress Eliza’s magic was weakened when she brought me back. She almost couldn’t seal the wound shut, but she did. Every day I’m relieved Juniper doesn’t have her physical scar because we both already hold onto the emotional ones. The collar still doesn’t hide it completely—I know what rests behind it, the reminder of my parents’ deaths. That was another thing I would talk to you about when you were asleep and when I was watching over you while we were traveling. You’re the one woman I’ve told all my secrets to, even if you don’t remember them.” His lips tilted up at the corners.
Cricket blinked, at a loss for words. She wished she could remember the conversations he’d spoken to her, but not even a dream or a nightmare lingered from that time either.
“It may be a reminder of ugly things, but it’s not ugly at all. It shows your strength, your resilience, and that’s what makes it beautiful. I’m honored you showed me, Zephyr.” She lifted his hand and pressed it to her chest, right beside where her heart hammered, then glided it down to her abdomen. “This is where I was cut. The scar may not be there, but I still feel it. Every day.”
“There’s a part of us that will continue to always fight those demons.” His hand trailed to her hip. “Get some sleep. Escape for now, and I’ll still watch over you. I promise no one will try and hurt you inside here.”
Cricket believed him and scooted back until her head pressed against a pillow. She wanted nothing more than to be held right then. “Lay with me?”
Zephyr stared at her as if she might take her words back before finally saying, “Of course.” He slipped off his boots, settled behind her, and draped an arm around her waist. She leaned into his warmth, wondering what it would be like to get lost in his kiss, in all of him.
As Cricket went to bathe, she adjusted the collar of her dress to hide the bruises forming around her neck from Charles. She found Mistress Eliza crocheting a blanket on her porch steps beneath the cloudy sky. The necromancer looked up and beckoned Cricket toward her.
“I thought things over last night, and I want you to understand why I’m only giving you until we leave to hone in on your curiosity,” Mistress Eliza said.
“But—” she started and was cut off by the necromancer.
“I know you can dance. I know you have some of your ability down, but those dahlias will be too much of a nuisance. Word will have already spread to the other cities about a murderer here, whether dead or not, who left them as wicked presents, so for the sake of the carnival, that is too much of a risk. The red roses were part of the vision when I brought you back from the dead, and it must be that way. Life and death in your curiosity. Not death and death.”
Cricket understood, even if the Dahlia Murderer never existed, a black flower, although living, could still represent death to an audience by its shade. “I’ll focus harder.” But she truly didn’t know how much harder she could sink into her ability when she was trying her damndest. She was frightened of failing, of what would become of her if she couldn’t do this.
“Let what happened yesterday, in your past, drive you to become magnificent. Become the talent I know you can be.”
“Yes, Mistress Eliza.”
Cricket then went to wash up in the lake to clear her thoughts, but she decided to work on her curiosity first. Practicing and practicing until sweat drenched her body, until she desperately needed to clean herself off. But neither the dahlias nor the roses crept from her flesh.
The snap of twigs sounded, and Cricket whirled around to find Zephyr grinning as he neared her. “There you are. I was beginning to wonder if you were hiding from me.”
Cricket’s cheeks flamed when she remembered waking curled up beside him, his arm no longer around her waist but hers around his and her head nestled into his chest. “No. Mistress Eliza said I have until the carnival leaves to hone my curiosity.”
“Ignore her threats. That’s all they are.” He shrugged. “For now, I think you deserve another break. Juniper wants to go to a pub.”
Cricket couldn’t practice the entirety of the day, or she would drive herself to the brink of madness. “Let me wash off quickly.”
“With me here or somewhere else.” He smirked.
She rolled her eyes. “You can stay, but turn around.” Even though a part of her was aching to tell him to come into the water with her.
Chapter Eighteen
Laughter and music spilled through the large room of the pub. Smoke combined with the citrusy scent of oranges filled the air. Cricket, Zephyr, Juniper, and Stormy found an empty table in the back corner. Leslie was working the bar and gave Cricket a funny look as she noticed the difference in hair color. Even though the evidence pointed to Charles being the killer, Cricket adorned another chestnut wig until Bram verified that it was indeed true.
“I need to relieve myself,” Zephyr said, setting a handful of silver coins on the table. “You ladies get anything you want.”
“And what would you like?” Cricket asked.
“Oh, you know what I would like. But surprise me.” He waggled his brows before sauntering down the hallway. Her gaze lingered on the leather collar, back in place around his throat. For some reason, she was a friend he felt comfortable sharing his story with which made her feel special.