Afterglow

Shadows danced in the candlelight of Jovie's bedroom. Draped across her feather mattress, she sunk deep into the sensation of fingers tracing along her collarbone. She always imagined Hamish's hands were rougher than they'd turned out to be.
 
His voice rumbled through her as she lay back against him. "Are you fading?" His knuckles discovered a new path across her chest and gently followed it. She could hear the quiet smile on his words.
 
"Basking..." she sighed. Her legs squirmed under the silk sheets pooled at their hips. The air was cool against the sheen on her exposed skin. She stared up at the ceiling, her eyes fighting the weight of sleep.
 
That damned cocktail spoon was still wedged into the rafters, its pointed end first. A reminder of the adorably unexpected panic she'd found on Hamish's face when she'd arrived to bed.
 
"You were so nervous when I came in," she chuckled. "I would have sworn you'd never done this before."
 
"I was keeping busy, that's all," Hamish shrugged. "It's not as if you're intimidating or anything..."
 
Jovie waved a hand vaguely at him. "Lies and slander. I have been nothin' but the very picture of sweetness."
 
He tapped a finger against her collarbone. "You, madam, are a shark."
 
She giggled up at him, biting her lip with sharp paired canines. Hamish lay amid the pile of pillows, his silver hair and beard disheveled, his eyes studying her. Rather than trying to divine the deepest corners of her psyche, he seemed to be simply enjoying the afterglow.
 
If it weren't for the menagerie of arcane inks across his skin - some designs Jovie had been delighted to discover this evening - she could have mistaken Hamish for an ordinary man for once. As if in the span of a day, she'd witnessed a demigod plummet to the earth. He'd long since let his grand performance fall away, the showmanship he wore like a suit of armor. The thick accent he took on was gone here in the privacy of her bedroom. She had to admit that she preferred him like this. Candid. Not many got to see this Hamish. She couldn't help but feel like she was peeking behind a curtain she wasn't supposed to.
 
Jovie climbed over him to reach for the nightstand. She took her time, though, hovering over him with a grin. On the table, her fingers found a pair of delicate eyeglasses and she climbed back down to nestle against him. She peered into the lenses through the light of the candles. Clear as plain glass. Yet another affectation Hamish wore.
 
"Having fun?" His hand followed the ridges of Jovie's horns, tapering back over her head.
 
Jovie slipped his glasses on and smiled. "Why do you wear these when you've got such pretty eyes."
 
Hamish didn't answer. He pinched the bridge of the glasses and slowly peeled them off Jovie's face. "You didn't have much of your drink." He nudged a finger toward her nearly full glass on the nightstand.
 
Jovie scooted up, cradling the side of his face. "Now why would I wanna fall asleep like that when I've got much better strategies at my disposal." Her tail snaked its way around Hamish's ankle.
 
He inhaled at the sensation. "You're saying I make you fall asleep." He teased, raising a brow.
 
She leaned forward to breathe him in. "In only the best of ways, darlin'..." Their lips met softly, in a gorgeously familiar way. It was a new dance, but one they'd diligently practiced.
 
The bramble that was once Hamish's carefully styled beard brushed against Jovie's cheeks...and her nose...and her chin. After a while, her skin shivered all over and she fidgeted free. She broke out into a laugh, scrubbing at her face. "I'm sorry," she chuckled, "That's gonna take gettin' used to."
 
"I'll wait." Hamish watched her with a patient smile.
 
It might have been wishful thinking that Jovie took the smile as a challenge. But she was no quitter. She pulled him back in by the neck and found his mouth again in a warm kiss.
 
The night passed on with the ebb and flow so common to new lovers. At times, they fell silent, sharing a quiet, sleepy smile between them. Other times, they suddenly remembered how close their bodies were and became hopelessly tangled up once more. From the bar this morning to the bedroom, the tone had shifted between them. They spent the evening finding a new rapport.
 
Eventually, night wore on and the candlelight dwindled. The world became impossibly soft and heavy, and Jovie let her eyes drift closed. Hamish's hand slipped from hers and returned to tracing invisible paths across her chest. She sighed as the hand settled at the base of her throat and then went still. He must've fallen asleep, she thought. For a moment, she recalled the gentle grip he'd had there earlier. Those soft hands had so surprised her. She took a long, leisurely inhale of him.
 
Sulfur filled her nose.
 
The hand at her throat clenched. Burning. Tight. Hateful. She tried to gasp against the pain, but claws dug into her skin, clamping her airway. Jovie was frozen against the suffocating softness of the bed. She couldn't breathe, couldn't move. Her eyes flashed open, and in the unending shadow, a pair of vivid amber eyes stared down at her. A familiar, terrifying glow of hunger she had desperately fought to forget.
 
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard Hamish calling out to her. The mattress was now hard beneath her body as the world came back into focus. Her throat burned from the infernal grip...or was it merely dry in the night air? The cold hard ground was the wooden floor of the Final Rites. Her bedroom.
 
It took a moment more to come back to her senses. Had she fallen out of bed?
 
"Jovie, what happened?" Hands gripped her shoulders. A flash of the claws at her throat sent her twisting away from Hamish.
 
"No," she breathed, hands up and away from him. Her tail twitched like a viper.
 
Hamish immediately slipped back. "Alright. Alright..."
 
There was a deathly silence, save for the rush of haggard breathing. Another moment passed before Jovie realized it was the sound of her own hyperventilating. She closed her eyes, tried to focus on slow steady breaths, but the memory of the nightmare still clung to her. Her eyes snapped open and she found Hamish waiting beside her with dread in his eyes.
 
"What can I do?" he begged.
 
Jovie's hands roamed her face and shook through her hair. Struggling to brush the nightmare away. It took some time to find her voice. "I need my kit..."
 
Without a word, Hamish stepped to the corner of the room and retrieved Jovie's mixologist bag. She slid her back against the bed-frame as he set the kit down beside her.
 
Her hands trembled through her supplies, pulling out the last few servings of Lemon Dutchess, her silver shaker, and a bottle of Sylvan cognac. Milky yellow liquid combined with the Amber liquor as Jovie rattled the shaker around for a five-count. She barely waited for the dull glow of the shaker's arcane runes, the heating element of the magic, before she popped the cap and downed the whole thing.
 
A rush of warm calm followed down her throat and seeped into every limb. Her thoughts suddenly faded. A valve released in the back of her mind, and all the fear and panic poured out of her. Her shoulders sagged. For the first time since waking, her breath came easy. She let out a long steady exhale.
 
Hamish's voice broke the silence. "Better?"
 
She nodded slowly, resting her head against the mattress. "I'm gonna need another one in a minute," she whispered.
 
He crouched down beside her, his voice gentle. "How about I start showing you how to make those last longer?"
 
Jovie managed another nod. She was trying to focus on the calm. The slowing of her pulse. Her nightmare, at least for the minute, was a distant thought. She didn't see the eyes glowing in the dark when she closed her own.
 
As the effects of the drink faded, a sudden heaviness took hold. Her body ached, her brain slowed to a crawl as it recovered from the panic. Her hands began to tremble again, but only slightly. The arcane cocktail had reset her panic response back to a manageable state.
 
Hamish stayed at her side. Eventually, he rested a hand on her shoulder, but then pulled back. Hesitating. "May I...touch you? Would that be alright?"
 
Something in Jovie's chest melted a little, and she turned to him. Her fingers found the edges of his beard. She cupped his cheek and drew him to her. Taking a moment to breathe him in. Maybe clear the memory of sulfur from her mind.
 
Their foreheads rested into each other, and they stayed motionless for a time. Holding one another.
 
"Can you get up?" he asked. When Jovie nodded, they crawled up off the floor together and sat on the edge of the bed. Hamish wrapped her in the sheet. It had gone cool without a body to warm it.
 
Hugging her bare arms, Jovie sighed at the floor. "Don't look at me like that."
 
"Like what?"
 
She eyed him, her expression exhausted. "I'm not some injured baby bird."
 
"I know you're not." He smirked, brushing a stray curl behind her ear. "You're a shark. Remember?"
 
Jovie reached up to catch his hand, and lifted the palm to her lips.
 
"What is it that has you scared so?" he murmured.
 
Her mouth went dry before she could form the words. She looked up at him with a sad and tired smile. "My life isn't my own," she shrugged. "And the one who's got claim to it doesn't like me forgettin'."
 
Hamish studied her face for a long while. Trying to understand? Trying to decide whether or not to bolt?
 
Jovie patted his leg. "I know this is a lot-"
 
Hamish just shook his head at her, and offered a hand. "Come back to bed."