Splintered

I have no doubt he would. I place a palm at his chest. His heartbeat knocks rapidly against my skin. “I never would have guessed.”

“What’s that?” he asks on a hoarse whisper.

“That you’re one of those netherlings who has a rare penchant for kindness and courage.”

“Tut.” He presses his glove over my hand. “Only when there’s fringe benefits.”

Smiling, I rise to my toes, grip his lapels, and kiss each one of his jewels until they change to a captivating dark purple—the color of passion fruit. I ease back to the balls of my feet. “So beautiful,” I whisper, tapping one of the sparkling gems.

Morpheus catches my palm and kisses the scars there. “I couldn’t agree more.”

We stare at each other, an invisible cord drawn tighter between us—a bond strengthened.

The doorbell rings, startling me. I flash a look at the clock in the kitchen on my way to the door. Motioning for Morpheus to be quiet, I steal a glance through the peephole.

“Jeb!” My heart races as I tuck the necklace’s key into my cleavage and scramble to unlock the latch. “Could you”—I gesture to Morpheus’s wings—“you know?”

He moves behind me, breath warm on my nape. “I’ll be watching over you. We bent the rules. Outsmarted magic.”

“And now there’s a price to be paid?” I whisper against the sick nudge in my stomach.

“Perhaps. Then again, it could be that we’re already paying the price.” There’s a hint of sadness in those words. He steps back and bows, wings forming a beautiful arch. “Ever your footman, fairest queen.” He takes one last look at me, then transforms into the moth and flutters at the threshold, waiting.

The minute I open the door, he swoops out, trying to take Jeb’s head off.

Jeb ducks. “Hey!” He stares at the moth hovering behind him. “Isn’t that the bug from your car’s air freshener?”

Amazing. He really doesn’t remember … anything.

“Do you want me to catch it for you?” Jeb asks when I don’t respond.

“Nah. I’m hoping it’ll hit a windshield.”

Liar, Morpheus whispers in my mind, then drifts away on a warm breeze. I bite back a smile.

“An insect like that would’ve been a great focal point for a mosaic,” Jeb says, his voice demanding my full attention. That velvety, deep timbre is like music to me now, knowing I could’ve lost it forever. I have to fight back the urge to leap into his arms.

The breeze wraps his scent around me. He’s wearing a ragged T-shirt and oil-stained carpenter shorts long enough to brush his shins. His hair is pushed back with a torn bandana, and his face is scruffy. He’s here to work on Gizmo. Taking care of me, like always. My elfin knight.

I study his ta

Kiss him, kiss him. You know you want to kiss him … A grasshopper lands on my shoulder. I tune into the white noise coming from the yard, picking out whispers where I can. They’re all saying the same thing.

Kiss him … But I can’t, because I want to do this right. I want to be sure he’s broken up with Taelor first. That he’s mine in every way.

“Al?” Jeb picks the grasshopper off me and sets it free.

The movement shakes me from my stupor. “Oh, sorry.”

“Yeah, you were really deep in thought there. You okay?”

I shrug. “I was thinking about my mosaics. I’m done killing things. It’s time for a change in mediums. Rocks and broken glass maybe. Beads and wires, ribbon.” Why not? I have a full reserve of Wonderland landscapes reawakened in my memory, waiting to be immortalized.

“Sounds great,” Jeb says. “I’m ready for a change, too.” He draws something from behind his back: a bouquet of white roses wrapped in pink tissue paper. He must’ve had them tucked in his waistband. A sweet smile frames his crooked incisor as he hands them to me.

“Thank you.” I sniff the delicate scent. “Where’d you find a florist open this early?”

He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Uh. I actually kind of borrowed them from Mr. Adams’s bushes over there.” His elbow gestures to the duplex across the street, where a rosebush suffers several obvious bald spots.

I snort. “You’re so bad.”

“Eh, I’ll mow his lawn for free or something. Hey …” He lifts a thumb to my wrist, rubbing it. My entire body lights up with sensation. “I tried to come by to see you before prom last night. No one answered.”

“Oh … is this about Hitch?”

“It was last night. Since I couldn’t reach you, I made Hitch swear to let me know if you showed up. When you didn’t, Jen told me what happened with your mom at Soul’s. That’s what the roses are for.”

“White ones,” I whisper, eyes filling with tears.

His eyebrows pinch in concern. “Please, don’t cry. If you don’t like white roses, I’ll paint them red for you.”

“No, never do that.” My blood sprints too fast through my veins; I feel dizzy.

“I meant like in the Alice story.” He winces. “Sorry. That was stupid. I know you hate that book.”

I grasp his arm. We both stare at the point of contact when his muscle twitches. “Actually, I’m starting to see the charm in it. And the roses are perfect.”

“Good.” He shuffles his te

Great. I’d forgotten that we haven’t hashed this out yet.

When I don’t answer, he continues. “Because there’s something I need to tell you, something that’s changed.” He repositions the bandana’s knot at his nape, looking nervous.

Before he can say another word, Taelor’s Mustang convertible rips into my driveway and screeches to a halt, as if materializing at his mention of her.

Jeb curses and presses his forehead against the doorframe.

Slamming her car door, she stomps up to the porch. She slides her Fendi sunglasses to the top of her head. Rumor has it those shades are worth over two hundred bucks. More than my entire wardrobe of secondhand outfits.

“Figures you’d be here.” She looks Jeb up and down after noticing the roses in my hand. “What, did you spend the night with your little virgin after our fight?”

My jaw drops. Prom obviously didn’t turn out well.

“I just now got here, so don’t go spreading any rumors, Tae.” He rubs the iron labret on his chin. I hadn’t noticed until now that he’s not wearing the garnet one. My pulse kicks a beat faster, knocking against the key at my sternum.

Taelor taps her pedicured, sandaled foot. “So, you haven’t told her yet?” Her eyes flick to mine. “He broke up with me last night. At prom. Then he left me there alone. Classy, right?”

The pained edge in her voice triggers a weird mix of pity and empathy.

Jeb grinds a knuckle into a place where the mortar’s crumbling between some bricks on the porch. “You had your chauffeur.”

“Oh, and I’m supposed to dance with him? The guy’s like ninety years old.” She clenches her designer lime green handbag against her matching wrap dress. “You weren’t home after the dance, because we drove by. If you weren’t here, where were you?”

“I went over to Mr. Mason’s.”

“Our art teacher?” Taelor and I both ask simultaneously. We give each other scathing glances while waiting for his response.

“You told me I was fired from Underland,” Jeb answers, studying where his knuckles graze the bricks. “Mr. Mason once mentioned he could get me a job at that art gallery on Kenyon Street. He’s good friends with the proprietor.”

“Wait, why do you need a job here?” I ask, confused. “I thought you were leaving for London this summer.”

“He can’t, now that he turned down my dad’s offer to rent him a flat. He has to save up money before he can have a place to live.” Taelor sneers in my direction. “Because of you, he’s giving up his career.”