“You had me worried for a second there, you arse.” She smiled and smacked him lightly on the pec. “But why butterflies? Even if they are coming out of a scary skull.”
“’Cause...” He squirmed a little. “They remind me of you. And the skull is kinda gonna be a tribute to my demon. So it’ll be like... me and you. Where the binding sigil was broken.” He shrugged one shoulder. “It seemed fitting, I guess.”
“Meph.” Her eyes were suddenly teary. “That’s so sweet. I can’t wait to see it.”
His face felt hot. Damn, he was a total goner for her.
He brushed his knuckles across her soft cheek. “Don’t cry or you’ll mess up your makeup.” More than it already was.
“I meant what I said before.” Her smile had fallen, but it was only to impart the weight of her words. “I love you.Bothof you.”
He wanted to brush her off, to tell her she was crazy for claiming to love the deranged fucker that was his demon form. He battled the urge to look away, to dispel the emotion with some dumbass crack.
The vulnerability of open intimacy like this still made him nervous, but he fought the urge to shy away. Iris had earned the right to see that side of him.
So he swallowed back his fear, looked into her eyes, and said, “I love you too, sugar lips.”
Okay, so he hadn’t totally circumvented the urge to be an idiot. Some habits were too stubborn to die.
She snorted, and he realized he was never not going to enjoy making her laugh. “Okay, honey pie.” She sat up with a jerk. “Now, let’s get this show on the road. We’ve got an art opening to crash.”
Fixing her dress and retrieving her underwear, she went to get her mascara brush, which had indeed been left on the dresser. She caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror and gasped at the makeup smudged below her eyes.
“Why didn’t you tell me I looked like a zombie?” She ran to the bathroom in a panic, and Meph stretched out his arms, making no attempt to get up. He had a couple extra minutes to revel in post-orgasmic bliss now that Iris was back with the makeup routine.
He smiled. Life was good.
EPILOGUE
DAN SLIPPED INTOMAGALIE’S ART GALLERY, FEELINGA bit like an intruder despite having been here many times. He and Jacqui had held shows of their own in this very space, but though the walls were familiar, the gallery had been remodeled for the current showing.
Dan’s first impression of the art was shock and horror coupled with the urge to avert his gaze. Even for someone who’d killed more than he cared to remember, the sculptures were disturbing.
But when he overcame his instinctive revulsion and forced himself to take it all in, he found a hidden depth to the pieces that conveyed a lot more than just pain and violence. There was longing, striving, despair, and even, sprinkled in the most unexpected places... hope.
Most striking of the collection, however, was a piece that seemed so incongruous, it almost appeared to have been made by another artist. EntitledWoman in Color, it rested atop a pedestal in the center of the room, the bright spotlight above making it brighter than anything else.
The sculpture was of a naked female crouching with her hands wrapped around her knees and her head down, hair falling over her face. From her back, glorious butterfly wings rose, delicate as if she had just pulled herself from the chrysalis, yet powerful in their fragile beauty. Though her skin remained colorless, the wings were a rainbow of hues.
And her hair was blue.
The inspiration behind the piece was obvious—especially once Dan noticed the blue-haired woman dabbing tears from her eyes as she saw it for the first time.
It was... sweet, Dan admitted. An evocative statement.
Though he spent some time touring the show and observing the pieces, Meph’s art wasn’t the only reason he’d made an appearance tonight. In fact, he had three others.
“Dad!” The sound of his daughter’s voice instantly lightened the burden on his soul, and he turned and scooped her into a tight hug. He wanted to squeeze her tight and never let go, but he didn’t think Eva would appreciate over-the-top displays of fatherly affection, so he released her a moment later.
She smiled, her eyes so bright it almost made him choke up. He wanted nothing more from life than to see her happy. “I’m so glad you came.”
He smoothed a hand over her lively curls. “Me too.”
“Isn’t Meph’s art amazing?” Eva leaned against him as they studied the piece before them. A man tearing open his chest cavity to rip out his own organs. “It’s freaky as hell, but I love it.”
Dan chuckled. “He’s developed his style to a remarkable degree for a relatively new artist.”
“Wow.” Eva smiled up at him. “That means a lot coming from you, Mr. Critic.”
