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August 4 - August 12, 2025
Inez, darling, where are you off to?
Whit bent into a squat, one muscled forearm draped across his knee, and said cheerfully, “If anyone thinks about moving, I will feed the lot of you to a crocodile, bit by bit.”
If he was alive, I would rescue him. If he was dead, I would bury him. Either way, I would know the truth.
“And when we care about someone, we become protective,” Isadora said in the same hushed whisper. “We will move heaven and earth to help them, to save them from themselves. Because there are only a few people in this world whom we love, and we’d damn anyone to hell who would dare to hurt them.”
“Inez, you are the love of my life,” Whit roared. “I will not lose you now.”
He nodded, reassuring me. “I’m right here. Please let go.”
“Inez,” he whispered hoarsely as he pulled me on top of him, away from the jagged rocks surrounding us. His lips moved against my throat when he spoke again. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?” I inhaled deeply, joyous disbelief making it hard to form a word, a thought. He gently shook me. “Answer me, sweetheart.”
“Are we alive?” I managed after a moment. “Of course. So dramatic.” Whit pushed the hair from out of my face, cradling my cheeks in both hands. “Are you hurt?”
Whit would not die. He cracked an eye open. “You’re doing great, sweetheart.”
Whit seemed highly amused by this prospect. “Aren’t damsels always providing petticoats when the hero is in dire straits?”
But Whit had saved mine. Twice.
Now that he was bleeding, slowly dying in front of me, it was hard to be angry at him. Because somehow, I knew that if he could choose whether or not to save my life, he would jump in front of that bullet for me again. And again and again and again. He was being so inconveniently honorable.
His delirium persisted through the rest of the day and long into the night. Several times, he called my name. Lack of sleep made my head spin, but I answered every single time, my voice hoarse from my reassurances. And then, shortly before the dawn of a new day, Whit’s eyes drifted open. He stared at me, squinting. “I haven’t left you,” I whispered. He nodded, relief softening the tight press of his mouth. “You’re being ridiculous,” I said. “Get rid of this fever immediately and become well.” Whit’s dry lips stretched into a smile, as I knew they would. “Where are your manners, Inez? Say
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Goddamn it!” Whit hissed through his teeth. I placed the bottle on the nightstand. “Do you want to be distracted?” “I’m not a child,” he said panting. But then his lips twisted wryly. “Yes, please.”
“Inez,” he whispered. “You want to know why I saved your life? I can think of no better act to show how much I love you. This world would not be the same without you in it, and I don’t ever want to find out what that feels like. If I have to follow you across a desert, I will. If I have to jump into the Nile, again and again, I will. If I have to leap in front of a thousand bullets, I will.” He closed his eyes, breath shuddering. “I will always love you.”
“I’m yours.”
have been for a long time,” Whit added softly. Very slowly, he reached across the bedding, fingers stretching to find mine. He flipped his wrist, palm open. I stared at the rough callouses. At his blunt hands capable of death, of rescue. Hands that held mine, that pulled me across a dance floor, held me above water, comforted me in the darkness of a tomb.
Right then, I gave in to what I had wanted to do since I’d seen him lying in that bed, the fever raging war against him. I leaned forward and kissed his cheek, smoothing the hair off his forehead. When I straightened, his eyes had once again drifted closed, the smallest smile on his face.
Whit slowly lifted his face, his eyes meeting mine. “Inez, at first I wanted to find the sheet to get out of a marriage I didn’t want. Now, more than anything, I want to find the Chrysopoeia to save a marriage I desperately want.”
It’s you and me, darling. Forever.”
Whit leaned forward and pressed his lips to my cheek, the softest brush of his mouth against my skin.
Whit paused in his eating and came to sit next to me on the bed. He pressed his temple close to mine and peered into the cup. “It’s important, Ricardo.”
Abdullah tilted his head, shrugging. “Who knows where the library hides?”
I went to him, sinking onto the bed, and then leaned against his shoulder. Whit used his sleeve to wipe my face, murmuring soft words, somehow tugging me closer so that I sat across his lap. He smoothed the hair from off my face and leaned down to brush his lips against mine.
I raised my hand and wrapped it around his neck as he deftly lifted me so that I could straddle him. His mouth moved against mine, kissing me deeply, hungrily, as if he wanted to show me that he really was all right, that he had truly escaped death. I sank my fingers into his hair while his hands drifted down my back until he cupped my bottom and moved me closer. He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses up and down my neck, and I shivered.
“I love you,” he whispered against my skin.
His hand slid to my thigh, and he tugged my skirt over my knee. Slowly, I unbuttoned the tiny row of buttons on my shirt. Whit fixated on every inch I revealed. He leaned forward and pressed soft kisses on my skin while his fingers drifted higher and higher. A gasp worked itself out of my mouth as my forehead dropped onto his shoulder. I reached for his trousers, and he helped me shift clothing aside before positioning me right where he wanted.
He lifted his head, a silent question in the depths of his blue gaze, and I nodded, breathless. Our wedding night felt like forever ago; I had been nervous, on a mission to outwit my uncle. But tonight was about me and Whit, and the rest of our lives, or however long we had left. I was safe, I was loved. He cupped my cheek and brought my face close to his, kissing me with a tenderness that felt raw and vulnerable. I sank onto him, and his lips moved to brush the shell of my ear as he whispered,
“Good ...
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Then we were moving together, that last bit of distance between us gone forever. Whit was ...
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He murmured soothing words against my hair, his hands drifting once again behind me, rocking me slowly. “Inez,” he said, and my name was a whispered prayer in his mouth. He kissed me d...
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He splayed his hands tight against my lower back, and every thought skittered out of reach. I only knew the tender way he stared up at me, the way he kept me close, and the inescapable feeling of losing control...
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Nothing else mattered except this moment. I wanted a million more, and I would d...
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We spent most of the day in bed, sleeping and sometimes not sleeping, and somewhere in between, making plans for what came next.
The next morning, the sharp sunlight illuminating our room woke me. I blinked, my cheek pressed against Whit’s bare chest, which was rising and falling steadily. He was still resting.
His soft snoring diverted my attention from his chest and up to his face. Auburn eyelashes fluttered above high cheekbones. His mouth was soft, his wavy hair tumbling across his forehead.
When all of this was over, I would make Whit take me to every single country I’d been dreaming about visiting since I was a little girl. There were so many cities and ruins I wanted to explore, different foods I wanted to try.
“Very good, miss.” “Mrs.,” I corrected, smiling.
Last night replayed in my mind. I had told her that I loved her. She never said the words back to me. Fear worked itself in my stomach. Maybe she realized she could never forgive me for what I had done. And so she left me. Panic tore into me. I tugged on my shoes, shrugged into my jacket, wincing slightly. The gunshot wound had healed as if several months had passed, but it still felt a little tender. I would go after her and get down on my knees if she wanted. I raced out the door, chanting her name. Inez. Inez. Inez.
Whit would not want me to go anywhere with Mr. Sterling of all people, not for his sake. I heard Whit’s roaring protest in my mind. I blinked when I heard that distinct shout again. Actually, that was Whit roaring. I half turned in the direction of the hotel to find him racing toward me, shouting my name.
WHIT That woman was going to be the death of me.
I knew Inez. She was resourceful, reckless, curious. My wife had conviction and cared deeply for the people in her life. Her family. And that was me. I was her family. The night we shared swam in my mind. How she had clung to me, afraid that I’d disappear. That the magic wouldn’t work, that I’d end up worse than before. She had gripped my hand through the worst of it, as if by her touch alone she’d save me from death.
Whit’s face swept across my vision, and I pretended he waited for me at the bottom. I heard his warm voice when he had taken me into the cave to show me a secret painting on the wall, hidden for centuries. A Christmas present for me. He had kept me safe, with a firm grasp on the rope. I pictured him holding it now.
He tugged me forward, and I tried to look over my shoulder. But I didn’t need to—I knew who had come for me. Whitford Simon Hayes.
A wave of emotions struck me. Relief, because I wasn’t alone anymore, followed quickly by terror. I wanted to yell at him. I wanted to kiss him.
I was going to throttle my wife when this was over. Right after I kissed her senseless. If we made it out alive, I was never going to let her out of my sight.
And in the second our eyes met, I could see everything she couldn’t say out loud. Fear for my life. Hope that we would survive the night. Trust that I’d stay by her side, no matter what happened. Love for me.
My hands stopped shaking, my entire being focused on one thing: I would not let her die. I would burn the world twice over to save her life.
“The only thing that does is you, us, our family. You are the love of my life, and I will not lose you now.”
He shut his eyes, his breath shuddering. When he opened them again, he stared at me intently, his hand coming to brush against the curve of my cheek. “I love you.” I gave him a watery smile. “You are the most precious thing in here, Whit.”