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witchqueenofthemoon · 5 years

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BODY AND SOUL Part 25 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: From here on out, Duncan and Kenzie will both start to manifest more of their witch/warlock powers, amid the rest of the story. Their powers in this universe will never be as strong as their powers are as Michael and Mallory, but they will eventually learn how to control them better. The further they get from the city, the stronger their powers will become--as we’ll see in the next part. Duncan’s powers are stronger when Kenzie is near and when his motivation is something for her benefit. If it’s not obvious from the context, Duncan manifests Transmutation in this part for the first time when he moves himself to the water table; as we all know, Transmutation is one of the Seven Wonders. I loved getting to write Madeline telling Gretchen to shut the fuck up. Duncan panicked so immediately at Kenzie’s disappearance, he completely forgot about trying to use his phone to call/text her; I needed him to realize he can feel her over distances now, so fuck phones. The macarons look like this. The gold bottles of Moet are these. With Sargent’s KARER SEE, I wanted to give the readers an indication of Duncan’s idea of heaven in a piece of art he’d looked at since childhood; a lot of the next few chapters will be about the magic and divinity of nature, so it’s leading into those themes. The artworks I reference in this part: Waterhouse’s THE MAGIC CIRCLE (I have a print of that one hanging in the hallway of our apartment), Robert-Hughes’ MIDSUMMER EVE (I’ve had a print of this one since I was 14, and that print hangs in our entranceway), Millais’ THE MARTYR OF THE SOLWAY, Robert-Hughes’ DREAM IDYLL (I want a print of this one so bad now, fuck, it’s so beautiful). The service people are dressed as The Lady of Shalott, Narcissus, and Rosamund. Here’s Robert-Hughes’ DAY and NIGHT (STAR OF HEAVEN). As my Duncan is a lifelong art lover (especially romantic art), he has studied the Pre-Raphaelites extensively and knows the paintings from that time period extremely well. I made D’AULAIRES BOOK OF GREEK MYTHS Duncan’s most beloved in childhood because for a long time it was MY most beloved, starting around the time I was 11 or 12--I would check it out of the library almost every week and draw meticulous copies of the illustrations. It was the first book that really made me love mythology, and it is VERY close to my (and my Duncan’s) heart. The older edition (the one I’d get at the library) had a yellow cover and looked like this, and that’s what Duncan’s copy looks like too. Here’s the illustration of Persephone running to Demeter. Annette’s Bosendorfer Imperial looks like this. I made C-sharp the key that opens the passage in the library to the garage because it’s the first note of MOONLIGHT SONATA. The oak paneling in the library looks like this, the chandeliers like this. G-class Mercedes SUVs really do come with a smart key feature, I didn’t make that up, I think that shit is fucking bananas. BPM is one of the electronic/house stations on Sirius XM. Here is the beautiful Jubel cover of DANCING IN THE MOONLIGHT Kenzie starts dancing to. That song is such a Duckenzie vibe. I listened to Kiiara’s Gloe a lot while editing this part, that is a HARD Duckenzie vibe song (”chain me up trap me in gold” like asdskgjshdghsg). SOMEONE PLEASE MAKE ME A GALA MOODBOARD, THANK YOU, I LOVE YOU ALL.

Duncan had felt drunk inside the strange aura Kenzie had created around them; his head was pounding now that it had evaporated, and it was all he could do to hold her against him, steady himself in her embrace. She felt suddenly hot and too-smooth under his fingers, like warm liquid was falling down her skin, like whatever she’d created around them was melting off her like rain water.

“Kenzie, baby, what was that?” He stared at her, his mind pricking with the residue of whatever it had been, like the final shocks of a fading orgasm. It was your power, angel. It was the energy that resides deep inside you. I know it was yours--but how did you do that? He’d balked harshly at Marissa’s sudden appearance, fighting off his intense dislike of her as best he could while she had been standing before him, but his relief at her departure was so heady he felt his body tingling with it now, with the relief of it. She had been from some other life; known some other Duncan. She should never have approached them, but Kenzie, he should have known, could take care of herself quite well, and now, it seemed, more than ever.

“I don’t really know, honestly, Dunny.” Kenzie’s face was pale under her makeup, her little breaths against him ragged with strain. “I just--I made her go away. I told her to leave.”

“That energy that was around us--it was like a force-field. I could feel it, Kenz. Like it was physical. Like putting your hand in water.”

“I made it. But I don’t really...I don’t know how. I just did it. I pulled it out of myself and put it around us.”

She was pressing against him, and Duncan knew she needed his energy, his comfort. Maybe I can give her some of myself the way she gives herself to me so often--the way she pushes gold into me. He brought his cheek against the side of her face, his hands drifting at the rose buds at the back of her hair, and tried to imagine the blue of him floating down into her; he watched Kenzie’s face relax, then her eyes closed. It’s working. He noticed some of the other guests watching them, glancing to him embracing her, over her gold train and her rose-scattered hair amid their conversations and as they drifted past into the dining area. Duckenzie, Duckenzie, Duckenzie. Duncan Shepherd and Mackenzie Stone, there they are, look how beautiful they are, a Shepherd and a Stone, can you believe it, look at how he holds her--Duncan almost felt as though he could hear their thoughts. The night seemed to stretch into forever for him, and despite his concern for her he still couldn’t will away the agonizing sensitivity of the ring around his cock; will this ever end? God, I want to be alone with you so much, Kenzie. I can’t wait for this night to be over. I long to be safe and hidden in your embrace; I long for our solitude. Kenzie nodded against him, and he realized he had gathered her up in his arms, realized she was weak to the point of collapse, her knees buckling. She let out a little gasp, as if in surprise.

“I think it--I think it was too much, baby,” she whispered, and he stepped around her, lifting under her arms to help her sit down on the staircase near them. “I think I just--I need some water.”

“Okay, baby, okay,” Duncan was crouching down near her, his mind racing with fear. Fuck, baby, what WAS that? It was so intense, so powerful--it knocked the breath out of me to even be touching you while you did it. How can you possibly do something like that? What are you, Kenzie? What are we? He pressed his hands along her arms, soothingly, thinking his blue-flame thoughts down into her, imagining them licking around her carefully, like a low fire of soothing warmth. This is all so strange, but it feels so familiar too.. Like we’re unlocking parts of ourselves we didn’t realize were there. But they have been, all this time.

“I’m gonna go get you some water, okay, baby? I’ll be right back.” Duncan was whispering against her cheek. Kenzie nodded, her arms limp in her lap, her face still pale.

“Yes, please,” she murmured, her voice small, sighing. “I just need to sit for a minute.”

Duncan kissed her cheek with aching softness, then stood, pushing the worry he felt down with an insistent hand, turning towards the dining area that had been set up through the hall--he immediately noticed a huge banner that covered the wall through the carpeted way here, a towering print of Waterhouse’s The Magic Circle, falling from the top of the mansion’s high ceiling to the black carpet that ran along the floor here, continuing from outside. Tonight I see Kenzie in it, he thought. Kenzie pulling the circle out of herself and willing Marissa away with it. Fuck, I was so angry, but Kenzie was so calm. Kenzie was so fearless. And she is. How can I be afraid when she’s near? Okay, Duncan, focus. Kenzie needs water. Find some, quickly.

He glanced behind him to see Kenzie still resting on the step, her hand pressed to the side of her face, her gaze staring off into space. God, how did you do that, though, baby? That was fucking magic. I don’t know what else to call it. Like us being able to hear each other’s thoughts. Just straight fucking magic. What ARE you, my love? Who are you? He turned back, peering into the huge inner parlor he knew comprised this part of his mother’s mansion.

There were six low tables, embellished with black and gold cloth, spread against one wall, each with a stunning array of hors d’oeuvres and intricate sweets--round black-chocolate macarons with intricate golden icing, mounds of chocolate-dipped strawberries (white, dark, milk, caramel, toffee, even some with pink white chocolate) in every nook, tray after tray of glistening caviar and charcuterie, a hundred gold bottles of Moet stacked in a card-tower display, an impressive roasted pig with a russet-gold roasted apple in its mouth that seemed to be culled straight from a Medieval banquet hall, and an array of huge sheet cakes, each with a major Pre-Raphaelite work printed on it with sharp clarity--he could make out one with Robert-Hughes’ Midsummer Eve stretched across it, another with Millais’ serenely melancholy Martyr of the Solway. Everywhere I see her now, in everything, Duncan thought. There is no aspect that hasn’t adopted her shape. There is nothing that doesn’t reflect her in my eyes. He noticed crystal pitchers full of shivering ice water near the entrance to the next parlor with relief--but as Duncan went to step up to them to pour one for Kenzie, his path was blocked by a garish visage of gold and white tinsel--Gretchen Friedrichs.

“Duncan! There you are. But without your little princess, I see, I wonder where she went?”

Duncan breathed heavily through his nose, turning his eyes up to the ceiling, away from her blindingly white smile. Fates, surely you are testing me tonight. He felt his cock soften in the ring at the monstrosity of her dress--that at least is a boon, I guess.

“Afraid I don’t have the time for you tonight, Gretchen. You have a very selective memory regarding my willingness to actually engage with you.”

“You can’t possibly avoid me forever, Dunc-y,” she hissed, her smile clenching into a grimace. “I saw you and little Miss Stone talking to Marissa Montague over there, what a menage a trois that was, BPF would pay good money for the photo I snapped, I bet.”

“Gretchen, do whatever you want, but get out of my fucking way.” Duncan could feel hot anger boiling up behind his eyes and he snapped his mouth shut after the statement, his hands beginning to shake. Kenzie needs water and you are blocking it. Gretchen continued to ramble on with a smug look, but Duncan could no longer hear her words; a rushing like the hum of an ocean wave was filling his ears, and he closed his eyes, his body feeling hot, too hot, burning suddenly, like a fire growing under dry wood. I need to get to that water.

Suddenly Duncan was in front of the water pitcher table, so close to it he was falling against the edge, his eyes snapping open, almost losing his balance, bewildered as to how he got there. He glanced behind him in shock, noting that Gretchen was still where they’d both been standing a moment ago--he could only see the back of her horrible tinsel dress now, her head moving from side to side in confusion to find him. “What,” Duncan murmured to himself. “How--the fuck?” I thought about what I needed--water for Kenzie. And then what, I moved myself to the water table with my fucking mind? He felt wildly dizzy for a moment, watched the room pitch under his gaze, felt his eyes rolling--then he steadied himself with a forceful hand and grasped one of the pitchers, dipping it into one of the glass tumblers lined there. Who fucking cares, he thought. Water to Kenzie first, then I can figure out what the hell that was all about.

Duncan felt a hand dip against his elbow, dragging him out of his inner monologue--he heard Madeline’s familiar laugh near his shoulder, and looked down at her with a wave of intense relief. He noticed Erik had come up beside him with her, and Madeline’s laugh was directed at Annette’s flamboyant stylist.

“Duncan, there you are,” Madeline said, mirroring Gretchen’s facetious words with a reassuring sincerity. “Where’s Kenzie?” Suddenly Madeline looked worried, her mouth dipping down from the laugh.

“She felt dizzy and asked me to get her some water, so I left her on the stairs in the foyer--”

“Did something happen, sweetie? You look terribly pale.” Erik was holding a dry martini with three green olives swirling in the bottom, a plastic stirring straw languidly poised in his hand. He’d clearly been in the middle of one of his many wild stories (usually regarding being an openly gay socialite in 70’s New York City), but had stopped abruptly upon seeing Duncan’s confused face.

“We ran into Marissa Montague. She was harassing us--I don’t know how to explain it. Kenzie told her to go away, and she did. But then Kenzie felt dizzy. I think it’s all...it’s just a lot for her,” he finished, lamely. Finding out she has the actual mind power to make people go away if she wants them to, yeah, that’s a lot for her. And a lot for me too. And apparently I can move myself from one place to another just by thinking about it hard enough. So...that’s new.

“Honey, you look awful--I mean, you look wonderful, but you look awful, like you did last night. I saw Annette in the next room over, you might want to stay out of there if you’re trying to avoid her tonight,” Madeline had a plate with several of the chocolate-and-gold macarons on it in her hand. She offered one to Duncan and he took it. “Thanks, Madeline. I’ll bring this to Kenzie too. I think we’re just--it’s been a really long few days.”

“Duncan Shepherd, you’re going to talk to me or I’m going to give that photo to BPF--” Gretchen’s voice was coming up on them now from where she’d finally turned around.

“Gretchen, shut the fuck up,” Madeline snapped at her, pursing her lips and glaring at the platinum-haired woman over her glasses. “I told you not to cart your bootlicking bony ass near Duncan and Mackenzie tonight, didn’t I? Are you fucking deaf?” Gretchen’s mouth closed with a snap, and Erik snorted at her in abrupt amusement. Duncan sent a silent thank you out to Kenzie’s (wonderful, bold, brilliant, badass) mother, and brushed past Gretchen’s horrible tinsel sleeve, the glass of water in one hand and the little chocolate macaron in the other, back towards where he had left Kenzie on the stairs. He heard Gretchen’s snappy heels try to come after him, then the rushing swirl of Erik’s earrings and poncho as he blocked her path. I love you both so much, Duncan thought. I could kiss your feet right now. I could sing your high praises into heaven.

He walked quickly back through the hall, heart racing, eyes glancing back up to The Magic Circle, hovering over him, spread gargantuan on the wall like an overwhelming spell, and he felt a drop in his stomach, suddenly, a foreboding drift of precognition--Duncan looked up to where he’d left Kenzie on the stairs. The spot was empty, and Kenzie was nowhere to be seen.

Oh no. Baby. Where are you.

Duncan’s eyes skirted back and forth rapidly, over the politicians and celebrities decked in opulent gowns and meticulously tailored suits, his heart floating up again into his throat, stifling his breath. He tried to steady his racing thoughts--okay, Duncan, okay. Where would she have gone. Maybe she went outside to get some air. The front balcony is up the stairs. She would have seen it from outside.

Duncan turned up the staircase, dipping his head down, anxious to avoid anyone coming down the stairs opposite him, but skirting his eyes up to search for Kenzie. He saw a flash of gold on the opposite side of the staircase, started toward it--but it was someone else, a random woman with a gold bow tied around her waist, her arm looped around the man descending the stairs beside her. And the problem with making gold part of the theme is...everyone is wearing something gold. A cold sweat was breaking out on Duncan’s brow, and his skin felt clammy, his nerves jangling wildly. Fuck, baby, where did you go.

Duncan reached the top of the staircase, turning with a clipped insistence from the banister to the upstairs railing, around to where he knew the balcony extended over the front doorway; he thought of the night he’d come here to tell his mother about Kenzie for the first time, the dark look in her eyes as she’d gazed down on the BMW from her lofty position. You always want to be a little bit above everyone else, Mom, he thought, but Claire Underwood outwitted you this time. She told me the one thing she knew would make me resent you. And now I do. I can’t help it. I’m fucking heartbroken, and I resent you. I resent that it had to come to this for you to accept Kenzie, too. For you to finally see how beautiful she is. It shouldn’t have taken you so long. It’s so obvious. She’s like the sun in a clear summer sky, the moon tonight, golden and immediate. You knew right away that she was infinitely lovely. But you refused to let me see that you knew. You were selfish, and you hid what you knew in your heart to be true. Duncan was still clutching the glass and the macaron in a careful hand. These are for Kenzie, so I need to keep them safe.

Duncan pitched one of the French doors open with the opposite hand, half-running out onto the ledge of the balcony--there were two men smoking and chatting animatedly to one another, one of them gesticulating in the air and the other laughing, and they both turned to him, surprised at the loud bang of the door swinging open. He glanced at them, them his eye skirted over the rest of the ledge, frantic, to no avail. There was no one else. Kenzie isn’t here. Kenzie, where are you, fuck, baby, where the fuck are you.

“Mr. Shepherd, are you alright?” One of the men spoke loudly to him, cupping his hand beside his mouth from where they were leaning. He didn’t recognize them, but it made sense that they’d recognize him; this was his mother’s house, after all.

“Have either of you seen Mackenzie Stone? She’s wearing a gold dress with a long train and a gold necklace with a ruby. Roses in her hair.”

The men looked at each other, shaking their heads, then back at him. “Nobody’s been out here but us since we came out to smoke. Before you, that is.”

“Okay. Um. Thanks.”

Duncan turned, sickness pitting in his stomach, feeling dizzy again. He yanked the French door open again, reentering the mansion--he could hear the loud sounds of the crowd growing downstairs, and alarm was beating wildly into him, beginning to constrict his throat and needle at his lungs. She was dizzy, what if she fainted somewhere? What if someone bothered her? Harris isn’t here, what if someone took her somewhere? Oh, fuck. The needling fear compounded in him, pressing painfully into his senses. Duncan breathed in, slowly, closing his mouth. Remember how you told her to breathe. Just breathe. Her face was so frightened. But you calmed her. You know you did. You pressed your comfort into her, the way she can to you. You can do that, too, and you know it. You just did something else, too. You moved without moving through physical space. You fucking teleported from one end of the room to the other. How the fuck would you do that? But you fucking did it. You didn’t walk around Gretchen--she wouldn’t have let you. You fucking MOVED through invisible space around her. You mutated time and space and made yourself appear where you wanted to be. You twisted it to your will. You know you did. You FELT it.

Duncan held the breath, then blew carefully through his mouth, closing his eyes.

If I can do that--if I can move through time and space if I want something badly enough, if I need it badly enough--I wonder if I can will myself to feel her, too, if I need it badly enough, if I need to know. Feel her across time and space, wherever she is in this house, feel her there, and know that she’s there, and fucking find her. I wonder if that first night on the balcony I was drawn there by the knowledge that she was there. That even though I didn’t know it consciously, I knew it innately. I knew she was there in my secret heart. I think so. I think I did.

So, now. Kenzie. Where are you. Show me where you are.

Duncan breathed in once more, through his nose--then, he held the breath, and as he did, he pressed himself outward (through time and space), sent himself, his secret self, out. He felt it, felt the piece of him like a tendril, a string (a golden thread, tinged with blue) that extended from him and drifted out, searching, intent. Kenzie. Where are you. Tell me. It’s me, Kenzie.

He continued to drift himself out this way, to let his mind wander in cool darkness. He couldn’t see the interior of the mansion in his mind--it was inky black with his eyes closed, and there were no images in his mind, but nevertheless he could feel the searching, sense it rather than see it, and knew, suddenly, that he was close to her, that she was nearby--in his senses he could suddenly smell roses and vetiver, the muskiness of her body, could sense that she was in tears, could almost taste their salt. Kenzie, Kenzie. Oh baby, where are you? It’s me. Tell me where you are. Can you hear me?

He opened his eyes. She hadn’t replied--he hadn’t heard her voice, not out loud and not in his mind, either--but Duncan could feel her anyway, feel the gold of her, pulsing like a ball of immaculate light. He couldn’t really see where she was, not with his eyes. But he could feel her. He began to walk, releasing all resistance from his mind as he let the breath out--his feet led him back down the stairs, and then he was running down them, the water from the glass in his hand splashing down his fingers. He veered to the side, around the stairs and under them, narrowly avoiding a Congresswoman in a voluminous glittering black gown, gasping out an apology and continuing back, through the space there with a good portion of his mother’s private art collection, down a back hall.

No one was back here--the hall opened to another large parlor, this one dark and quiet, the shadows long on the red velvet loveseats. Duncan knew this room well; it had once been his downstairs playroom when he was a child, later converted to another sitting room when he went away to private boarding school, the one where he’d been bullied relentlessly, as he revealed to Kenzie at Madeline’s house last night. He saw more of his mother’s storied art collection on these walls as he rushed through the room, still following the feeling that was Kenzie--particularly, one of the pieces he’d long admired since he was a child. It was called Karer See, and it depicted a landscape of pink, navy and lavender precipices, rising above a dappled green-and-coppery forest and the white rocky shore of a blue lake in watercolors. It was a protected monument in Italy, and the painting was by a turn-of-the-century American named John Singer Sargent, who was far better known for his portraits, particularly one of Teddy Roosevelt. As a child Duncan remembered staring at it for hours, particularly drawn to its purply hills--I bet heaven looks like that, he remembered thinking. Like those hills. Now they drew him back into the memory of the dreams he’d been having as of late; the dream of Kenzie with wings, soothing his darkness away, the dreams in the ethereal other place that felt imperceptible to him outside those dreams, where Kenzie’s eyes whirled with golden galaxies and her clothing was made of strange geometries. Duncan walked quickly past the painting, his eyes skirting to it in the shadows, affectionately, like it was an old friend.

His feet continued to carry him beyond, through to the end of the room, and Duncan’s heart slammed into his ribs: he could really feel her now, knew she was very close, could feel the golden-blue thread running down to her, shortening with every step he took, his black Wyatt boots clicking in the silence and shadows of this part of the mansion, ringing in his ears. The golden, pulsing heart of her was close, so close--he marveled at it, seeing it and not seeing it, wondering how he could have ever missed it that first night, missed it in the days that led up to now, but then recalled how her headband with pointed stars had looked in the city lights that night--how Kenzie looked in the morning, in the sunlight, in his bedroom, in his bed, soon to become theirs. A halo. And this light--this is her halo. It’s not a halo like how I’ve always thought of one, though. This halo is the iridescence of her soul, and it calls out to me, through time. I would see it in the deepest darkness. I would see it even if every star in the universe burnt out into nothing. I’d see it. I would. I can quiet my mind, and in that quiet place, and I can always find her. I will always be able to see her there.

At the end of the room was a squared half-space cut away from the wall, and in the space were three doors--one led outside, through an unremarkable blank white door with a peephole, a door which Duncan knew well. It faced the backlot of the mansion and when he was a child a car would pick him up from that curb to take him to his private elementary school. The door to his right was a supply closet for the housekeeper--and the left door was an old-fashioned powder room, a golden plaque on it with laser-cut letters that told as much, with a elegant round sink, a vanity with an oval mirror, a blush-colored chaise lounge and a discreet toilet with a wood door, if he remembered correctly. It was rarely used, as this back parlor room was now rarely used--and therefore no one would suspect it to be occupied by any guests tonight.

But Kenzie’s in there, Duncan knew. And she’s been crying.

Duncan went to the door, and for a moment he didn’t speak, only achingly pressed his fingers against it--he could feel her emanating out from it with golden warmth, tinged with painful spears of distress. Duncan realized he’d felt these spears before, but not as consciously--that night she texted me and asked me to come to her apartment, that same night I told Mom about her, he realized. I could feel her tears all the way to her door. My heart had ached with them. It was as if his memory had been shrouded in a fine fog, and feeling her as he now could, many hidden aspects of it were now becoming clear. And now that he was here, now that his ear was pressed to the door, Duncan could hear her, so quiet as to be almost imperceptible to his ears, but with his mind he could hear her, finally hear her voice, and then he could hear the minute rustle of her tears, the quiet movements she made in the room behind the door.

Why is there so much darkness in people’s hearts? Her thoughts drifted into him, and he felt that she didn’t know he was there yet, lost in her sadness. Why can I feel it press on me so sharply now, feel it as though it were my own burden? Why is it so cutting, like a knife? Is it because we love each other so much? Has it opened my heart so much that I can feel pain as well, as much as beauty and joy, this way? Goddess, it fucking aches. The hate in his eyes. As if he resented my very existence, my reality. Resented his Fate, and wished he could begrudge me my own.

Oh, baby, what happened. Duncan knocked, softly, breath hitching. “Kenzie. Baby. It’s me.”

There was silence on the other side of the door for a moment and he could hear Kenzie sniffing now, her little voice sighing, and it made his body shudder with longing for her. He tried the knob; it was locked.

“Kenzie. Please let me in.”

There was another beat, and then he could hear her moving--moving to the door and turning the lock. She pulled it open and he moaned to see her tearstained face in the low golden light she’d switched on in the powder room; the glistening moisture on her cheeks. Her eyes (the damp cool of evening as the light fades to russet gold) fell into his and he reached for her, gripped her little wrist in aching fingers over the gold and diamond of the Cartier bracelet locked there, and gently pushed on the door so it fell open. Kenzie stood there weakly, her golden aura still intensely lovely, her sadness shrouded in angelic sweetness; her sadness is divine, as everything that is her is divine, her sorrow holy, and I would kiss it from her lips, drink it into me, take it from her and soothe her. Duncan shut the door behind them, turning the lock again. No eyes but mine, baby. He set down the water glass, half empty from spilling it as he ran, and macaron, now half-crushed, onto the vanity, gathering her into his arms, gathering the golden folds of her dress into his body, pressing his face down into the crook of her little collarbone against the gold braid of the necklace, the scent of the roses in her hair drifting into him, and he loved it so, loved the way she melted into him, the relief he felt wash over her to be inside his arms, the relief he pushed into her to have found her safe, to have found her, to have seen her and found her this way. She sighed, her head falling back, her eyes fluttering closed, and her mouth dipped open, pressing against the dripping gold of his jacket.

“Fuck, Kenzie, I was so scared--”

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry,” she was whispering and his mouth was rushing against hers, I can’t fucking not kiss you anymore, baby, I can’t be away from you anymore, please let me kiss you, please kiss me oh god I thought you were gone I thought you were hurt I thought you were lost and he was saying “Kenzie, I love you, I fucking love you, baby, I love you--” and she was moaning with an aching insistence into him, lifting her breasts into his fingers in the delicate boning of her bodice, her little arms drifting around his neck, her hair and the dip of her back so soft it brought tears into his eyes, her little tongue pressing against his suddenly, her head turning and reaching up to his fingers, her little hands flitting down over the crotch of his tightly tailored pants, kindling the blood back into his cock, reminding him of the ring again finally as it pressed needily into his hardness after his panicked forgetting, reminding him that he belonged to her and she belonged to him, and that this day has been such a long one to bear, jagged with emotion, that he longed for her as the sun longed for the moon during the longest day. Duncan was gasping against her, determined to find the source of her pain before he became utterly lost in her--he broke their kiss, looking down into her eyes, pressing her against the edge of the vanity’s mahogany table. They were half-lidded now, their dark green-gold shimmering with an insistent approval, an urging that was tinged with pain and kindled with need.

“Kenzie, what happened? Why are you crying? Why did you leave the stairs?”

He kept his voice soothing and low, watched the little trembling movements of her face, the shivering of her eyelashes, the tears hovering there, the dip of wetness on her lips from him, the dampness around her nose from crying. Her makeup hadn’t been mussed, though--Georgio had done his job immensely well. She looked down, and he saw her chin trembling now, too, fighting off more tears. He pulled a tissue from a box on the vanity, gently dabbing it under her eyes, soothing it on her cheeks, his other hand coming up to cup under her chin.

“It was your uncle.”

“What?” God, I’d completely forgotten he’d be here. He shouldn’t be, he’s too sick, but he’s so stubborn. He must be in a lot of pain tonight. Fuck, he must be in a terrible mood tonight.

“He’s here. He showed up a minute after you went to get me some water--” Kenzie glanced at the half-empty glass, reached for the macaron absently, staring down at it, avoiding his eyes now, trying to hide her hurt.

“From Momby,” he murmured, and she nodded, lip trembling again, bringing it up to her lips and biting into it, a tear falling from her eye as she nibbled at it, as if to absorb her mother’s strength through it.

“He--he saw me first. I still felt so weak, I felt like I could hardly stand. He recognized me right away. I sort of recognized him, I mean, I’d seen a picture of him before, and I felt that it was him, you know? How I can...do that.” She breathed in, shudderingly, and Duncan lowered his hand carefully to her thigh, the silence heavy, pressing into them. His cock was pressing into the front of his pants now, flushed with arousal again at her nearness, the terrible ache in him returned after the anxiety had pushed it back. Kenzie had turned her eyes up to him once more, her hair falling back, the very soft golden light in the solitude of the powder room glinting through her dress. It was so quiet now; his fear had stilled, his anxiety had gone entirely, and all he knew was that Kenzie was sad, that he wanted her with an ache that was utterly beyond words, and that the strange, chaotic energy of this evening was reaching a peak, the press of it having settled into his body. He realized vaguely that he hadn’t had a drink for hours and yet felt deeply drunk--drunk on you, my love, drunk with need for you.

“He came up to me and I could feel how much pain he was in right away--his face was pinched with pain, and he was trying to hide it in his body but I could feel it,” Kenzie had swallowed the rest of the cookie and was moving her hands out towards him, towards his chest, her fingers drifting against him. Fuck, yes, Kenzie, touch me, please, please, there’s nothing else but your touch. Duncan let his other hand drift up to her breast and Kenzie leaned into his fingers, her head dipping to the side as she spoke.

“He said “you’re a cunning little slut, aren’t you, well, you’re not getting into this family no matter how many times you fuck him,” and the pain he was in was so strong, Duncan, it was like I couldn’t even speak, couldn’t move, I could feel it like dark storm clouds--I felt frozen around him, he felt dark, I wanted to run away from him but he grabbed onto me here--” she held up her wrist and Duncan reached for it with achingly delicate fingers, soothing along her skin where he could almost feel the hot memory of his uncle’s anger. How dare you, Bill. How fucking dare you touch her. I could fucking kill you. “--and he said I bet you had something to do with Claire Underwood telling him about all that, didn’t you, I bet you’re the one who told him to go to Claire--” “Oh, fuck, baby, no, fuck--” Duncan was pressing against her now, pressing her into the vanity’s edge, and he felt the anger and need in him crash against him again, felt the ring pressing with insistence into his groin, could feel the trembling in her limbs expanding now, could feel the sadness in her dissipating into her own desire, her thoughts beginning to pulse with a deeper frustration, one for him. I want you, he heard it drift through him, into the core of him. Fuck, Duncan, I want you now.

“Who fucking cares what he thinks about anything, Kenzie--” his mouth was hovering just above hers, his arms tight around her, tightening more, desperate to have her as close as she could possibly be, the halo of gold hovering around her in his eyesight now. “He’s dying and he resents our happiness and you know that, he resents you because you’re so fucking lovely and so good, and so much more than he ever was, could ever be--” and Kenzie was breathing harshly against him now, fighting to hold onto her composure, he could feel it, feel her need to hold out for just a moment longer, her skin damp and warm and so soft under his fingers, her smell exquisitely sweet with an edge of wildness now, the Bacchanalian energy of the Gala beyond having finally reached them here in this secret corner, and it seemed to be flooding the powder room, stoking his cock. His hands fell down to cup around her ass and Kenzie’s words hitched, she moaned into the edge of his jaw, “he hated me, baby--ha-hated me, hated, and it filled me with such sorrow for him, ohhh, Duncan, he hated my light, he wanted to crush it, so I ran away from him, I found this room, and Dunny, I felt you here, I felt that this space used to be yours, is that right, was it? Dunny--”

“Mhmmm, yes, Kenzie, it was--it was my playroom when I was little, it was mine for a long time, Kenzie, oh my Kenzie,” and his hands were falling further down to dip her ass apart, to spread her achingly from the plug he knew was still nestled inside her, and he opened his mouth against hers, hovering a breath away from kissing her, and he felt, with a deep, overwhelming drift of satisfaction, her own mouth open under him, the supplication in her in this moment, the aching breadth of the pause where their lips anticipated and contemplated each other, could suddenly sense the musk of her climb higher, sense her sharp need for him. The openness that had come upon her felt like it would stop his heart; Duncan knew, suddenly, that she would let him do anything he wished to her, let him worship her by any means in this room, in this moment charged with the intensity of this night, and that the anger she had felt from Bill Shepherd had only kindled in her, ultimately, the desire to love him even more, if she possibly could, had solidified and crystallized her devotion, and therefore Bill had failed, failed utterly in his goal to hurt her acutely. The hurt in her was already melting away, already obsolete in the face of their desire for each other now, and her trust burst over Duncan like the soothing, stinging slap of a cascade of clear water. I would die for you, Duncan Shepherd. I would die a thousand deaths. There are no words for my devotion. As I know you are devoted to me with all of your soul, know that my devotion too is undying. There is nothing that can tear us asunder, not truly. Now, beloved: worship me with your body.

Duncan’s fingers drifted down, down through the dip between her ass, finding the jeweled end of the plug under the silky gold; Kenzie gasped into his mouth and her breath was sweet with chocolate, her eyes glowing with the depth of her need, the tears still trapped there now tears of her devotion for him, and his hand pressed, hard, insistent, against it, pressing the plug harshly into her, her body rocking up from the edge of the vanity flush against him. His other hand came up, drifting over her collarbones, up to the slender, delicate beauty of her throat, fingers trailing over the gold braid (but I’m imagining your rose choker there, so achingly beautiful, my beloved) and he gripped her there, gentle at first, then with gathering strength, pulling her flush against him, her legs now spreading on either side of his thigh, one of them dipping, white and achingly beautiful, from the slit in the cascade of the golden gown she wore, the space between her thighs hot through the leg of his pants, his crotch heavy with hardness against her abdomen, one hand driving the plug roughly into her, the other squeezing into her throat, her mouth open under his.

“Fuck me, Prince,” Kenzie whispered, her breath gasping under his hand. Duncan tightened it again. She cried out, her voice needling into him; he closed his eyes, gasped against her, his lips dipping up to her nose, down to the crook of her chin. Her slender, beautiful hands found the button of his pants, finally, Kenzie, fuuuuck, fuck me, fucking finally, and she was working the opening there apart, fingers finding the silicone edge of the ring, the absolute torment that had become his erection, stoked back and forth for hours now between the throes of hardness and arousal. She pulled it out, her touch a wild distress to him, making him groan beyond his ability to control, and he looked down as she did at his cock--it was pink with hardness, straining, jumping with a shivering vibration against her palm cupped along its underside. It needed her, and nothing else would suffice. Please, help me, his thought leaked through him, and he saw that she heard him with acute clarity from the blush on her cheeks. Only you can ease my suffering, Mackenzie Stone.

Kenzie kept her palm flush against his cock, her eyes finding his, locking in his gaze, and she dipped her fingers up between her legs, up under the slit of the dress, finding the waistband of her panties and leaning away from the edge of the vanity--she pulled them down and as they fell around her ankles she lifted her feet out of them, pushing them away with the edge of one heel. She spread her thighs apart now, the dress hitching a little up her hips from the slit, shimmering, exposing her to the dip of her leg turning into her abdomen, but still shrouding her cunt, and Duncan demandingly urged his hand against the plug inside her ass again through the supple fabric--the moan that fell from her lips drifted in a long, loud cadence, extending through the moment, spreading with a golden insistence. Kenzie didn’t speak again, only slid up onto the vanity’s mahogany surface now, his hand lifting at her ass to steady her there, and then using her palm to guide his thick, constricted cock to the dip between her legs, and her eyes said I’m going to beg you now, beloved, I want to beg you.

“Please fuck me,” she whined into him, her eyes liquid with color, and Duncan heard the moan that escaped him, an involuntary one he’d never have been able to stave off, a cry that erupted from the center of his soul. He drove himself into her, and they gasped into the crevice of each other’s lips, her little tongue pressing flush into his, her need exquisite, wanton, and abject. Duncan felt lost in it--her trust was absolute here, and it shattered at his soul. He kept his fingers pressed tightly at her throat, the golden necklace indenting into his palm as he carefully hitched at her dress, riding it up higher towards her hips, pressing her thighs apart, and dipping his thumb down to her clit, down to her cunt to feel at her wetness to be sure she was ready, before he drove his cock further into her, utterly, until he was buried inside her, and he went to her ear and whispered “Kenzie, I have been waiting to fucking fuck you, and now I’m going to do it for as long as I want to, and you’re mine, aren’t you, baby, aren’t you, you’re my angel baby who needs my cock, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes, Dunny, yes, fuck me, fuck, ahh, you’re so fucking hard, unng, please, please, I need you, I need your cock, neeeeed you--”

He was tapping his fingers against the plug now, harsh little snaps that made her body keen, made her eyes flutter rapidly, made her breath shudder out as he drove in and out of her, his eyes dipping down to look at the spread lips of her labia, the glistening moisture of her arousal, the wetness and painful hardness of his thick cock as he fucked her, the ring causing blood to course through his length again and again, sending his mind into a shivering spiral of lust that urged him on, harder, harder, and he was dragging her against him, their bodies so flush that he lost his understanding of where they ended, as he had before, a loss so exquisite to him he already felt sorrow for the moment he knew they’d be separated again, her little face pressed into the crook of his neck, her fingers gripping at his jacket with tight fingers, her mouth a round, supple fruit on his skin, and her keening, tiny sounds sending undulations of relief into him, shudderingly cool, achingly hot.

“Finally, finally, fuck, Kenzie, I thought I would fucking die from not being able to fuck you--” their mouths were distressing into each other, his hand still possessive at her throat, and he wanted to speak to her aloud, wanted her to hear him with her ears rather than her thoughts, wanted to speak, needed to tell her as well as he could with words, “I thought I’d go insane from it, god, like your hand was around me all day, like your lips were on me there, I’ve been lost in thoughts of you, lost in my need for you--”

“I wanna suck your cock, baby,” she was whispering into him now, and Duncan moaned, the tiny softness of her in his arms, under his hand, around his length, making him shake. “Please, baby, please let me suck on your beautiful cock, it’s what I want. Make me suck it.” Blood surged into his length again, buried inside her, and he gasped, sucking air through his teeth, her eyes (golden starlight in a galaxy of green) hovering at his cheeks, her little face imploring him, beyond irresistible. I’m high on you, drunk on you, you are the headiest wine, the strongest weed, a drug beyond the sweetest of any drug on earth, my lovely beloved, my exquisite Princess, the constant kindling of my heart to the highest of all pleasure. He was pulling out of her, lost for a moment in the disappointment of his emptiness, then Kenzie was sliding off the vanity to the floor, sliding to her knees before him in the gold dress, the roses in her hair cascading with sweet scent, her little fingers gripping at him, wet with the arousal from inside her, dipping her mouth suddenly, quickly against the head of his cock and sucking lightly, her tongue fluttering on the underside against the delicate veins there, and the roses in her hair were shuddering at her attentions to him, they were shivering with her ache, and Duncan was moaning again, his hands gripping the sides of her head and driving her down onto him, her mind urging him on, yes, baby, yes, like that, make me suck you this way, I know you keep a wild god inside you and he pulses with lust, he wants to prostrate me, I long to be prostrated in this moment, I long for his wild needs, so make me, make me--and he was gripping her under her chin, gripping his long fingers under her jaw so his thumb pressed under her ear on one side of her face, and his index finger pressed to the other, and he was fucking her mouth with long, steady motion, and Kenzie’s eyes fluttered closed and she choked on him, her little throat constricting, but in her mind she was saying do not stop, don’t stop Duncan, don’t stop, fuck me, fucking fuck me, fuck your Princess, my mouth is for you--and so he did, continued to fuck her little mouth, his hardness filling her, drool sliding from her chin as she hooked her fingers around his thighs, clutching onto him.

“I’m not gonna come in your mouth, baby,” he murmured down to her, hearing the commanding edge there, knowing it was what she wanted him to say, knowing she wanted demands from him, because Duncan could feel the rushing in his ears, falling down his body, the threat of his release, and he was desperate to fuck her ass, fuck her ass that had been made caged for him for hours, fuck her ass that had had the plug hidden there, a secret for his pleasure, waiting for him. “It’s time to take your plug out now, and I’m gonna fuck your ass as hard as I want to, angel. Okay?” He was pulling out of her, his fingers still gripping along her jaw, and Kenzie was gasping, her eyes drifting open and closed, spittle leaking around her lower lip, her head crooked to the side as if she were about to drift into sleep, her little breasts heaving for air.

“Okay, baby,” she was moaning, and he was dipping down, his tongue lapping up the spit on her chin, lips bruising into hers, and her arms drifted up around his neck and he was pulling her up to her feet, steadying her, kissing her again and again, tasting at her need which hovered around her like a patina, knowing his own was as strong, loving the feeling of their mingling desires, loving that he knew how much she wanted him to command her this time, loving that he could give her what she was asking for, loving her radiant trust, lost in its effulgence. He pressed her back against the vanity again, his hands pressing harshly along her arms, along the golden waist of her gown, tasting her still, following the thrill of her tongue and her sighs, then he drifted himself away from her mouth with all the resolve he could muster, turned her hips so she faced the mirror, and looked into her eyes there. Kenzie’s breath was shallow, her eyes glowing with that unearthly gold, and she was nodding to him, her mouth dipped open. Fuck my ass, baby.

Duncan crouched, grasped the long hem of her gown, and straightened, pulling the dress in endless gathers of gold lame, dipping them up over her ass, holding them steady at her waist in his fist, tightly. His cock was pressing, utterly stiff and straining with painful hardness, against the dip between her ass cheeks now, and he moved back a little to see the jeweled end of the plug glittering up at him--around it, her ass was red with its attention, raw with its pressure from hours of its pressing on her, and Duncan groaned, feeling his cock jump up at the sight of it. Fuck. Angel. Spread for me. Spread your legs for me. Kenzie moved her thighs apart as he gripped the folds of her dress carefully at her back, and Duncan watched the plug bob inside her, shiver as her ass clenched on it. Time for me to fuck you in your tight little ass, Princess Kenzie.

He drifted his long fingers down to the jewel, then Duncan whispered “Push out, baby,” and Kenzie nodded, her golden gaze shivering on him in the vanity’s oval mirror--he pulled at the jeweled end, insistent, as he felt her ass push outwards, and Kenzie moaned, moaned so that Duncan fought the urge to come in that very moment, sucked his resolve in with a cold hand, because her moan was piteous and lit with low pain, deep pleasure, and overwhelming rapture for him.

“Fuck, I’m so empty now, fuck, I need you, Dunny,” her words were rushing out into her moan, her hands clutching at the edges of the vanity, and Duncan dropped the plug to the floor, unceremoniously, its use now at an end for their devotions in this moment, and he brushed her hair to the side, over her shoulder, loathe to muss it, grasping her neck (warm, shivering) in hot, insistent fingers, and he said “you’re mine, Kenzie, and I am infinitely blessed,” and he drove himself, adamant and inexorable, inside the tight hollow of her, and Kenzie cried out in a voice that sent a patterned madness into his mind, like the holy geometries of their divine dreams.

She was crying out again now, in a stream of sound, almost sobbing, as he drove in and out of her achingly sensitive ass, teased for him as it had been, and his cock was so hard with the pressure of the ring that he felt his eyes rolling back, his mouth open and his tongue pressing out against his lips, the entirety of the sensation of her simply too much to bear. “Fuck my little ass, baby, fuck it hard, fuck me good, baby, fuck me, harder, fucking harder, make me fucking scr-eee-am---” Kenzie voice bled out as he lowered himself into a studied concentration, pushing her into the vanity’s edge roughly, his thighs smacking into the bottom of her ass as he plunged himself into her, her tone lifting into an ecstatic abandon as he stretched her. Her asshole was swollen, pinched with redness, and his cock was rosy with strain and the veins of him stood out starkly as he watched himself slide into her, then out, then back, concentrating all his effort on fucking her, his hand dipping down between the lips of her cunt and his index finger sliding with conviction into the top of her clit, steadying there with a careful pressure, dipping down then holding, dipping back up, beginning a lazy motion that he knew was sending sharp shocks of arousal through her groin there, because now he could see it in her mind, see the shape of her orgasm like the golden sphere of her soul that he had seen before, the one he had run towards.

“Fucking you, Kenzie, is the greatest pleasure I’ve ever felt--or will ever feel,” he dipped down to her ear, murmuring clearly into it, leaning over her, staring into her eyes as he worked with slow, steady movements into her ass, against her clit. “There are no words for your beauty, no description for your loveliness, and nothing I can say will ever truly give justice to the depth of my love for you, only you, only you, Kenzie, forever--” and she was crying out again, unable to speak, her mouth dipped up in an ecstatic expression, her eyes in his, then rolling up, overwhelmed, and she was leaning back to receive his cock, leaning back from the edge of the vanity so he was buried in her, their bodies in tandem, rocking back and forth. Her dress had begun to slip from his hand and he gripped it tightly again, rebounding into her, reconcentrating his fingers on her clit and lifting her body up into his with steady hands, watching her little fingers clenching against his arm where she clutched at him as he held her, and he could see the way her thighs had begun to shudder, a sure sign of her orgasm rushing close by--your beautiful curvy thighs begin to shake, then the rest of your body, your beautiful body, I love it so, your beauty calms every fear in my heart, my Kenzie, I adore you, I worship you, I love you, I always will--

“Dunny--fucking FUCK--your cock is fucking heaven, you’re heaven--Dunnyyyyy--” she was crying out his name in a long wail, his mouth open achingly on her jaw, sucking, his tongue pressing into her wildly sweet skin there, his hands holding her little body flush to him as he continued to fuck her taut, diminutive asshole, not allowing himself to falter in his ministrations despite the intoxicating sound of her voice, stretching out into a keening lament that made his skin break out immediately into sweat, the sound of her almost otherworldly, like the voice of ecstasy from another world, and it was beautiful to him beyond all description, the sound of her this way. Eventually, Kenzie quieted to low, keening whimpers, and her arm lifted to the side of his hair and his ear as he continued to work at her ass and her clit with his fingers, down the angular stubble of his jaw, her middle and index fingers dipping into his mouth (suck baby, suck on me, suck on my neck and my fingers and fuck my little ass and come for me, come now, okay, it’s time for you to fucking come for me--), his teeth pressing gently into the pads of them as he sucked insistently at her, his own moans compounding now that she had gone still--he could feel her clit twinging under his touch from her comedown, and it stirred his release lower, lower, the voracious orgasm he’d been holding since yesterday now prickling again in earnest behind his hips, her little sounds coaxing him, the tightness of her unbearable around his painful hardness, her mouth still open and her head still thrown back, eyes closed at the memory of the starbursts under her eyelids, oh fuck, oh fucking god, god this is going to--this is--

Duncan’s hand came up to Kenzie’s throat as he felt the burning hot spurt of his come release into her ass, and he was groaning a wordless entreaty for her into her ear and her cheek, felt it continue on and on for what felt like an eternity, and for awhile he lost himself in her, lost himself entirely to their surroundings, and could only feel her, could only feel the flushed heat of her skin, the silky fall of her dress, could only smell the rose of her, could only hear her little moaning, aching sounds, could only imagine her, could only remember her, as if all other realities had ceased and they were drifting in darkness. He was gasping into her, clutching her, feeling as though he were on the verge of sobbing, on the edge of bursting into tears so earnest and true that perhaps, if he did, they would never cease, only continue on until he was utterly empty of tears.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby, you’re okay, fuck, baby, oh my fucking god,” Kenzie was murmuring as he brought her back down to earth, still holding her against him, his cock sliding out of her--he saw there was a little blood along the topside of his length, and he moaned into her, still holding her dress gathered in his hand, examining her backside, wincing in concern--Kenzie’s ass was deeply pink, her asshole red with worry. “Fuck, baby, are you okay? Fuck, did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine, it’s okay, baby,” Kenzie was leaning over the vanity, gripping a tissue, bending her arm back to press it against her ass--she brought the tissue around to gaze at it, frowning a little at the blood. “It’s okay, it’s just a little, I think it’s just chafing, god, you were so fucking hard--” with this Kenzie groaned a little, a laugh intercepting it, and she wiggled her ass at him, grinning in post-orgasmic glee. “Fuck, Duncan, I loved that. You felt so fucking good, baby, I love your thick cock fucking my ass so hard, god, being so bossy with me, I feel so fucking good now--”

Duncan gripped at her hips, his mouth coming down her cheek, lips open, and closed his eyes against her, letting his eyelashes brush on her skin--Kenzie sighed, her knees dipping her down.

“God, Kenzie, I’d been holding that orgasm for what felt like a year, fuck, you made me come so hard, angel.” He stepped back from her, gently letting go of her dress, letting it fall down her backside, covering the rawness he’d left there, thinking of his come now deep inside her--he glanced to the floor where he’d discarded the plug, then leaned and picked it up, gripping the jeweled end in his hand. Kenzie turned to him, raising her eyebrows, all residue of her tears now gone. Her face was glowing, radiant--it seemed to be cast in a golden sheen, though he could see hints of tiredness around her eyes.

“Come here, baby,” she whispered, and grasped his empty hand, leading him to the sink, turning on the faucet and running it until it was hot, lathering soap on her hands from a dispenser there, then gently pulling him closer to the edge, dipping her hands along his length. Duncan shivered, moaned with the terrible sensitivity prickling there now as she washed him gently, the ring still pushed at the base of him, his cock still partially stiff with its pressure. Duncan brought his hands down to brush against hers in the stream, rinsing her plug under the hot water, and she was lathering soap along its bulbous head too, cleaning it carefully--he turned his head to gaze at her as he touched her, as her fingers fell against his, and the loveliness of her smile as she glanced at him made him want to weep again. Duncan pulled his hands away, reluctantly, grasped a mauve-colored hand towel hanging nearby, drying his hands--Kenzie shut the water off and he passed the towel to her gently, dipping it around her plug and her hands, then she pressed the plug into his palm and took the towel, dipping her head down, bringing her fingers against the base of his cock.

“I’m going to take the ring off now, baby, okay?”

“Okay, baby.” He stood very still, lost in the golden shift of her gaze. My Persephone. Queen of roses. Too beautiful for words. Kenzie’s little fingers gripped the silicone carefully, firmly--then she pulled gently at it, and Duncan bit his lip, staving off his cry at the intensity of her touch as she slid the ring off him, finally releasing his cock from the immense pressure of it. He breathed out carefully through his mouth, then waited, hopefully, for Kenzie to do what he was thinking towards her--she smiled at him, straightening, then grasped his softening cock, dipping it back into his tight briefs, then zipping and buttoning his pants, tucking his collared shirt carefully back in place.

“There, my Prince,” she whispered. “Like nothing ever happened. None of them will ever know. Our secret to keep. Just for us.”

The golden light was all around her, the shimmer of her dress seeming to draw it in; her tawny-gold hair fell around her cheeks, barely a residue of sweat there to show the ecstasy he knew she had felt; for he’d been inside her, inside her thoughts, had felt the immensity of her release, as he knew he could now. Duncan’s fingers ran over the protruding head of the plug, carefully, hesitating, still longing for her in ways he couldn’t name.

“Kenzie, can I--can I put this back inside you, baby? I want to--I want to keep my come inside you for awhile. I want to keep our secret for awhile…” He could feel his cheeks flushing, feel the neediness in his voice, but she was smiling again, her cheeks flushing too, an obvious delight in her eyes now.

“That’s fucking sexy, baby. Yes, Prince Duncan,” and she was stepping flush against him, her mouth opening towards his face, his body bursting into deep, coursing flames from the look in her eyes. “Put it back inside me.”

Kenzie turned to look into the little mirror over the sink, gripping the edge of it, gazing at him expectantly. Do it, and let’s go back to this party. I’ll have your come held there inside me the whole time. You fucked me hard and we both came so hard and our ecstasy will bleed into the night, love--I’m yours, Duncan, my body is yours as my soul is. Just a little longer, then we can sleep in each other’s arms all night, and when the day comes, we’ll go off to the woods together to be alone and learn more of each other’s secrets. We’ll fuck under the stars, under the trees, in the long grass, among the flowers.

Duncan lowered his arm, gripping at the train and the flowing skirt of her gown, gathering them once more in his fingers, pressing them together in his fist, exposing her backside again--he whimpered at the redness still there, but there was no more blood. It must have just been chafing, like you said, baby, let me know if this hurts you and I’ll stop. Kenzie shook her head, urging him on. I’m fine, baby, put it inside me where it belongs. Duncan could see a vague residue around the pucker of her asshole, the cloudy white of his come dripping out of her--with a twinge of need he thought no, that stays inside her, I want it inside her, and he brought the plug up to the dampness gathering there, holding the gathers of her dress steady in his grip, and then he pushed it back inside her--Kenzie gasped a little, gripping the sink, but was nodding--”yes, Dunny, yes,” and then it was back inside her, the jewel winking up at him, and he let go of her skirts, leaned down to where he panties had been discarded and kneeled to her.

Kenzie turned to him, bringing her hands down to his shoulders, and he pushed the skirts aside, exposing her golden platform heels--Kenzie held onto him as she stepped into her panties and Duncan pulled them up her slender calves and curvy, feminine thighs under the dress, pressing his chin into her stomach as he fixed the waistband on her hips. There. All done. He lingered there for a moment, staring up at her--her hands came to his cheek, fingers drifting at his stubble, and into his hair, her touch infinitely gentle, and her smile was serene, utterly contented. In its cocoon he knew he was loved--loved with such intensely earnest, complete love that he felt tears seeping back into the corners of his eyes.

“I’m ready to go back, baby,” Kenzie said, and he stood, nodding, dipping his fingers at his eyes, wiping the threat of tears away. She leaned up to kiss him; he brought his face down to her, his hand twining around her fingers, imagining the golden-blue thread he’d seen as he ran to where he saw the golden sphere that was her, his lips shivering against her. “Kenzie, I love you,” he whispered. Kenzie didn’t speak, and she didn’t need to--he knew what she was saying in her mind, in the golden bursts around her heart, the radiance in her eyes, the roses in her hair. And I love you. Now, long ago, and forever.

Kenzie went to the sink where they’d left his silicone ring, grasping it and placing it inside her golden clutch, snapping the opening closed. As they walked out of the bathroom, Duncan glanced back at it, at its glow of light now diminished by her absence--just a regular bathroom now, he thought. The golden glow was all her. Everything is her. He flipped the light switch, bathing the powder room in darkness, and Kenzie was the one who pulled him back to the Gala, through the room that was once his playroom, the gold and diamond of the bracelets at their wrists glinting, their hands tightly clasped in the shadows.

------

A few minutes later Kenzie was ordering a glass of chardonnay from the bartender near the tables Duncan had glimpsed earlier, drinking it in one fell swoop that made Duncan laugh, and immediately asking for another. The bartender, a tall, handsome man with henna-colored skin in a saffron-yellow Oxford shirt and a silk gold tie, had raised his eyebrows at her and poured her another, this one full to the brim.

“Duckenzie forever,” he said, and pushed it toward her, his smile shy. Duncan and Kenzie had looked at each other in disbelief, both laughing a little. “Seriously, though, you two are like--you are glowing,” the bartender continued. “Thanks for coming over here. I can’t drink tonight, but now I feel drunk. Love your Instagrams.” Duncan had ordered an old-fashioned (like that first night, Kenzie had thought, and Kenzie had smiled at him), and Kenzie had thanked the man sweetly, her cheeks flushed with the wine now. Duncan slipped a $100 bill into his tip jar. God, I feel so good now, he thought. Time to spread that around. They’d run into Erik and Momby, sitting together on a low couch in a side-parlor, laughing with each other in uproarious delight, Momby telling him a story about a time she’d fallen into a pool with a full tray of tropical cocktails during a brief waitressing stint in the Bahamas in her early 20’s. Madeline had gripped Kenzie’s hand, looking into her face as Kenzie settled down onto the armrest beside her mother--when she saw the serene happiness there, she nodded and let go. Whatever had happened before, all was right now. Madeline had looked into Duncan’s eyes, and he’d nodded to her, smiling.

“That smile,” Momby had tsked, and Erik dipped his chin into a perfectly-manicured hand, looking on at all of them, grinning, his eyes now hazy with drunkenness. “With that smile you could stab me in the heart and I’d thank you.”

Kenzie’s gaze had dipped above them, her eyes intent on yet another mural printed for the Gala along the white wall behind them. ”I’ve never seen this one before,” Kenzie murmured, reaching for Duncan’s hand, pulling him close. My pretty baby. My Kenzie. “What’s it called?” The painting depicted on the laser-printed mural was a golden-haired maiden, completely naked, her back turned down, the angle from heaven above, riding on a midnight-blue stallion with huge wings--below them were scattered clouds of night and a landscape spread with some ancient monument. “It’s so lovely.”

“It’s called Dream Idyll,” Duncan murmured to her, his eyes on her face. He could feel Madeline and Erik watching them. “It’s by Edward Robert Hughes. It looks like you.” Kenzie snorted at him. “Yep, there’s me, in my birthday suit. I do wish I had a flying horse, though.”

“You’ll have horses soon enough, Princess Kenzie.”

“Oh, she will, will she?” Madeline smiled at him, intrigued.

Duncan and Kenzie looked at each other. Momby knows about you taking over the company, but I don’t think Erik knows, does he? Kenzie thought to him. Duncan shook his head.

“It’s a secret, is it?” Erik cooed, taking a sip of the vodka tonic in his hand.

“For now, yeah, I think so,” Duncan replied. “We’re still figuring it out.”

“I’m sure you two have lots of secrets you haven’t told anyone,” Erik went on, batting his long rhinestoned eyelashes. “I’m sure you have delicious, delightful secrets. Just look at you. A darkly handsome prince and a radiant golden princess. Duncan, you’ve opened like a flower now that you have this angel in your life. I just adore you two. You’re like two stars that fell out of the sky. I’d claw someone’s eyes out to hear what it’s like in the bedroom.”

Duncan rolled his eyes at the last bit, but saw Kenzie smile into her hand. Madeline was laughing into her glass of red wine, her snort causing a film of bubbles on its surface. Like mother, like daughter.

“Baby, let’s get some air,” he murmured down into Kenzie’s ear, and she let him help her up, left her train to fan out behind her. He waved a little to Madeline and Erik. “We’ll see you later on, maybe?”

“I think I’m getting all partied out,” Madeline replied. “I’m a crusty old witch and I’ve successfully managed to avoid Annette tonight. I’d like to keep it that way. Duncan, can I enlist your help to get that wonderful man to drive me home?”

“Of course, Madeline,” Duncan pulled his phone out of his pocket as Kenzie’s hand clutched around the crook of his arm, her head resting against the velvet arm of his blazer. He sent a text out to Samuel; Samuel, as usual, replied almost immediately. The best. “He says he’ll be waiting on the curb in two minutes, Ms. Stone.”

Madeline crowed, delighted, drinking off the rest of her wine. “Erik, darling, wanna come kick it at my house like two broken down old hags?”

“Speak for yourself, honey,” Erik replied, but he was smiling. “However--I’d love to. Annette’s usual gang of social frou-frous, alas, leaves me dry as a bone these days. Let’s break out the tequila and talk about old flings all night. My darling angelic moon babies in love--adieu.” Erik extended a hand towards Duncan and Kenzie, and Kenzie’s radiant smile to him lit a fire under Duncan’s heart. Your crown of flowers on our wedding day, a crown for the goddess of spring, he thought, his mind drifting. I wonder what your dress will look like. It doesn’t matter what you wear, though. You always look like a fucking angel. Kenzie was turning back to kiss her mother’s cheek--Duncan went to Madeline too, and kissed the opposite one. Madeline laughed, pursing her lips and looking heavenward.

“I do believe, my dear Madeline, that it doesn’t get much better than that,” Erik raised his drink to them with finality.

“Did you know Duncan wants to commission a painting of us, Momby,” Kenzie was murmuring down her to her mother, her face bathed in the low mood lights of the room, the blue cast of the mural above her reflecting on her gold-rose hair as Duncan watched her. “How romantic is that?”

“My dearest Mackenzie,” her mother clasped her hand, stared at her over the rim of her squarish black-rimmed glasses. “You suddenly find yourself immersed in a fairy tale, and my advice to you is, enjoy every moment of it. Bask in it. Drink it down like it’s wine.”

“Kenzie and I going away for a few days, Madeline,” Duncan said, eyeing Madeline, watching for disapproval warily. “We have a cabin by a lake in rural Maryland--we’re trying to keep the trip discreet. We’ll have our phones, but...we’d like to go off the grid for a few days, so we won’t be checking them regularly. I need to get away from Annette for a few days--”

“We both do,” Kenzie murmured. “Momby, we need to get away from...everything.”

“I understand, Kenzie Lou.” Madeline’s face was serious, but calm, sobering up for them. “You don’t need to explain. Just call me when you get back, okay? We can invite Claire and make tacos and margaritas. You too, baby,” Madeline said, turning to Erik, who fluttered his eyelashes at her.

“Thank you, Madeline.” Duncan’s heart felt tight again, words insufficient for his gratitude.

“Duncan. Don’t forget what I said to you last night, sweetpea. I love you very much, and your worth is not in your name, nor with your wealth, but what you do with it. I’ll see you soon.” Madeline’s hand came up against his cheek, and Duncan’s heart clenched. Kenzie, you were blessed with the most wonderful of mothers. It’s no wonder you are so divine. Demeter, who went to Zeus himself to have her daughter Persephone back--who made the earth barren with her loss. A mother who would do anything for her daughter--like Madeline Stone. What a fucking woman.

Kenzie kissed her mother’s cheek again, whispered “I love you to the moon and back, Momby,” and rose with Duncan, blowing kisses behind her to both Madeline and Erik. Divine, Duncan thought, her hand in the crook of his arm. Divine kisses, floating across the room like shooting stars.

------

Ten minutes later they were on the south side of the house, on the back-facing patio balcony of Annette Shepherd’s Colonial mansion. There were serving people dressed as various Pre-Raphaelite muses passing around hors d'oeuvres here (the Lady of Shalott walked up to them in long white robes and an auburn wig, holding a tray of mushroom tartlets which she held out to them--she blushed, clearly recognizing them, and Duncan thanked her, taking two and handing one to Kenzie, who ate it in one bite as she smiled at the woman--who then drifted away from them with some reluctance), and there were scores of guests in the balmy night air, milling around with drinks, winding down from the speeches for the Foundation--we were fucking in the bathroom during that, Duncan thought, relieved. I’m sure Annette tried to find me, and thankfully, she failed.

Neither Annette nor Bill were anywhere to be seen here, either. Or Marissa Montague. Or Gretchen Friedrichs. It’s like the night calmed for us, like the moon (still hovering above them, a white peach of delectable enchantment) ushered them all away--like it’s looking after us, my Kenzie and me. Down a set of marble steps was a decorative walking garden with stone pathways surrounded by creeping thyme and irish moss, with a four-tier fountain in the center, in tandem with Annette’s modern sensibilities. Some of the guests (most of which Duncan recognized--a veritable who’s-who of politicians and notables from every artistic field he could think of) seemed to notice them, but somehow no one approached them--Duncan doubted it was shyness. It seemed to be something else, almost like a force-field around them, protecting them from too much attention. Whatever. I’ll take it. As long as people leave us alone.

Along the sides of the French doors that had led them outside were two more huge murals, covering the windows on this side of the mansion, each one with the Shepherd Unlimited logo along the top and the same Gala text as the banners at the entrance--on one side was Robert-Hughes’ wistful Day, a circle of flowers in her red hair, and on the other, his more serene Night, sometimes called Star of Heaven--her hair full of starbursts, like flares of blue and white flame. Kenzie had turned, taking little sips of chardonnay, to gaze up at them, and he saw the adoring admiration in her eyes. He stared at her, drifting a hand against the wall, leaning there, caught up in her--golden princess from the stars. Protecting me, healing me, healing others. Who knows what else she can do. I feel acutely that we’re just beginning to find out what she’s capable of...and what I’m capable of, for that matter. He thought of the plug still inside her, holding his release there, and shivered. Mine. My golden angel.

Eventually, Kenzie noticed him staring.

“Don’t tell me, they look like me,” she rolled her eyes at him, making a face, and he laughed a little, sipping his bourbon. Bourbon will always remind me of the first night--though I’ll never forget it anyway. He leaned back on the Day mural, his head beginning to feel hazy--he’d barely had any of the bourbon, but he felt weak with his post-orgasm, with the stresses of this damn Gala--Marissa, Gretchen, Kenzie’s disappearance, the strangeness of what had happened to him near the water table. And with the stresses of yesterday--the shaking certainty in me that I was nothing and no one anymore. I don’t feel that way now; but the fear was enough to exhaust my soul. It was enough to make me long to escape with her.

He hesitated--he could tell Kenzie knew he was thinking, and she regarded him, patiently. “It looks like she’s whispering in your ear,” she said, twining a golden hair around her finger, the Cartier bracelet’s diamonds glittering on her wrist, the smooth incline of her leg dipping beautifully from the slit in the dress, and then Kenzie was opening her clutch and pulling her phone out, snapping a photo of him. He smiled at her, unbothered, pressing affection out towards her. She walked casually to the other wall where Star of Heaven was spread, smiling down at her phone, typing a caption on the photo, posting it. He turned toward her as the two men he’d seen smoking earlier came through the French doors--oddly, they ignored Duncan and Kenzie, as if they didn’t see them. Kenzie didn’t seem to notice, but looked up a moment later from her phone at him. Duncan moved past the doors to her, leaving his bourbon glass on a nearby cart, hands coming down to her waist, pressing her back into the mural of the serene woman with a crown of stars.

“I wish I could give you a crown of stars like that,” Duncan whispered, his eyes drifting up the mural, then back down into hers. The moon was right above them now--it stared down on him, quietly listening to them, watching them, watching over us. Moon children in love. Kenzie held her wine glass up to her lips, her eyes staring back at him mischievously over the rim, and he stepped back, lifting his own phone to steal a picture of her, her eyes drifting to the side to look at the huge face beside her. Star of heaven @kenzielouwho. He saw the one she’d posted of him come up right after it on his feed--Night breezes seem to whisper I love you @duncanshepherd.

“Kenzie,” he said, tucking his phone away. “Something happened when I went to get you the water. Something...strange. Really strange.”

Kenzie looked at him then with contemplation, and he knew deeply that she had something of her own to tell him--something she hadn’t told him before. She set her wine glass at her feet as he continued.

“I ran into Gretchen Friedrichs, and she cornered me, was trying to blackmail me--the usual with her--and I knew I needed to get to the water, and she was blocking it. I was crazy with it for a minute, with frustration, then suddenly, I was there, I was at the water table. But I hadn’t moved. I had...I dunno. I teleported to the fucking water table. Somehow. I moved--through--I don’t know. Time. Space. I moved without moving.”

“Dunny,” Kenzie said, and her voice was very small, her hands reaching up to the lapels of his jacket, pulling him close. “Yesterday, I--I could feel your sadness and your pain. I mean, I don’t mean I suspected it--I mean I felt it. I felt the depth of it. It pressed down onto me and I felt what you were feeling. It was like I was inside you. It was when I was still at work, and the feeling continued all the way home; I think it made me fall asleep, it was so strong, so powerful, like a wave, overwhelming me. I knew it was you, and I knew you were heartbroken. I felt what you were feeling from miles away. I don’t know how. But I did. And what I did tonight--”

“Kenzie, what’s happening to us? What are we?” Duncan stared down into her eyes and saw the memory of those whirling golden galaxies from his dream of her (as an angel--with imperceptible wings) and saw her own hazel eyes too, and was dizzy with the vision of both. “What do the dreams mean? When you disappeared, I was so afraid--fuck, I forgot to even try to call you or text you, I was freaking out so much, wondering where you’d gone--then I concentrated and I felt you. You were like a ball of light inside my mind. I followed the feeling of you to where you were, I imagined there was a thread between us, made of gold--and then I found you. My feet led me to the powder room, and there you were. Like you’d been calling for me and I heard your voice.”

“I--I don’t know--it’s something about us finding each other, that’s what I think, that’s what I keep coming back to,” and Kenzie’s fingers were brushing over his intricate gold collar, down his velvet arms, finding his hands, holding them against the bare skin above her structured bodice. “I think when we met it was like...a door flew open. An invisible door, one that had been shut, and when it opened, so many other things poured into us, not just each other, not just this incredible love--” and Duncan stopped her mouth with his, his need to kiss her too great, her mouth too beautiful in the moonlight, her hair too soft and rose-laden to not have his hands in it anymore, the gold of her too ethereal, and she gasped into his kiss, and he clutched her, leaning down to her exquisite, moon-like face, the dark mulberry stain of her lips all but kissed away by his ardency tonight, leaving them bruised and pink, and he crushed himself into them again, his body rocking against hers with deep fatigue and a desire to sleep with her, sleep forever under a full, benevolent moon.

“Let’s go,” he whispered between their kisses, his hands urging her against him. “Let’s go home. I’m tired, baby. I want you alone. None of this matters. Only you.” Kenzie was nodding into him, her face flooding with visible relief, and Duncan was remembering her run in with his uncle tonight--I’ve always suspected that Bill hates me, so I’m not surprised he hates anyone I care about, too. I think deep down Bill has always been suspicious that we don’t share the same goals for Shepherd Unlimited--that one day, I’d take it from him and make it into what he is fearful of. Something GOOD. Well, Bill, you’re right. Your fears were all founded. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. And I found a goddess to help me.

Duncan was gripping Kenzie’s hand and pulling her back through the mansion--Samuel had likely already left with Madeline and Erik, but he was sober enough anyway, and he knew what to do. Annette had a garage under the mansion with twenty cars--and they were going to take one of them home tonight, then to Deep Creek Lake tomorrow. No one would be coming with them, not Samuel, not Harris, no one. The prospect sent a burst of excitement through him, pushing his fatigue away; alone with you in the beauty of nature. And I’ve been away from it for so long. You’re going to love the cabin so much, baby. Knowing you now, I feel like it was created just for you. You’ll see what I mean. It’s like its own little world.

Duncan was clutching Kenzie’s train carefully in one hand and her fingers in the other, leading her down the hall with a pointed, swift stride, around the array of important guests who seemed to be noticing them again, judging from the long stares. Duckenzie Duckenzie Duckenzie the son of Annette Shepherd with the daughter of Madeline Stone who would ever think such a thing how absurd look how beautiful they are wow look at them look look look. Fuck, he thought, now I can hear everyone else’s thoughts, too? Or maybe just right now? Or maybe I’m imagining it? God, it’s all too much. Right now we just need to get away from all of this.

He was about to turn down a side-hall that was mostly deserted towards the center of the mansion, the one he knew led to Annette’s impressive private library, and from there a secret passage behind one of the bookcases that led to the basement garage, but he stopped, his heart slamming up against his ribs. Annette and Bill were at the end of it, conversing with Senator Howell. Fuck. No.

He glanced with alarm at Kenzie, who was balking and stepping back, her eyes slitted at Bill, who does indeed look very ill, Duncan noted, seeing his uncle’s deeply gray pallor, the thin sheen of sweat on his brow. Bill looks like he’s about to fall into his grave, in fact. Annette seemed to have noticed as well, because she was staring with deep concern at her brother, and hadn’t noticed them yet. Mom, you look so beautiful tonight, Duncan noted, his heart now in his mouth. My mother, and yet, not my mother. The soft fall of her hair in its gathers around the nape of her neck, the pearls at her throat, the glowing, pollen-patterned yellow satin dress she wore. Duncan noted the deep sadness that lingered on her face tonight--her brother is dying, and her son won’t talk to her. But mom, it’s not as simple as that, and you know it. You had to know this day would come. You had to know eventually I’d find out. How could you keep it from me for so long? It would have been easier if you’d told me long ago. But perhaps you really couldn’t bear to admit it after a certain point. Maybe it really was love that convinced you to keep it secret--or maybe it was just your own need to be loved.

And he knew when they got back from the woods, when they came home from the secluded place where they’d go to find out each other’s secrets--because he knew that would happen while they were away, I feel it, in my heart, in my soul, I know we are going to discover something about ourselves there, I know it, baby, I know it absolutely, and he knew Kenzie heard his thought--that he’d speak with Annette and Bill, and it would be wrenching for him, but that it would happen and it must happen, and only then would the future move into the present and the wheel continue to turn them to their Fate.

But not yet. Come on baby, this way. I know another way. And he and Kenzie slipped away from the line of sight of Annette and Bill Shepherd. Duncan was struck with a realization a few seconds later; he knew that Annette had looked down the hall the moment they slipped away, had thought maybe she’d seen a corner of Kenzie’s golden gown from the corner of her eye, but that when she’d turned her head, no one had been there. And Annette’s heart was full of sorrow--full of her own regret, the sting of her own faults and her mistakes. Like Kenzie feeling my sadness last night, over miles--I think I can feel how my mother feels right now. Just a little. Enough to know that her sorrow is genuine, and her remorse absolute. Oh, Mom.

They’d turned down another hall--this one seemed to be a service hall, several of the serving people in their Pre-Raphaelite costumes moving along it back and forth, some with empty trays, some with trays fresh hors d'oeuvres moving back out to the main hall. Duncan pulled Kenzie along it--several of the service people gave them puzzled looks, but said nothing; they obviously recognized him (or us: Duckenzie Duckenzie Duckenzie). Duncan Shepherd can do what he likes in his mother’s house, I guess, Duncan heard the drifting thought from a tall, handsome man with a laurel wreath in his hair and a red-russet robe over his shoulder, akin to Narcissus in Waterhouse’s painting. Duncan opened a side-door, and this led to a quiet room that seemed to be a service lounge, currently only occupied by a tired-looking woman in a white veil and a cobalt-blue period dress. She glanced up, disinterested at first, then shock fell over her face as she saw them moving through the room.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, and Duncan saw Kenzie looking at the woman with a shy smile. “Duncan Shepherd and Mackenzie Stone, oh my goooooood. Wow, wow, wow.” She sat up and her fists came up to her chin, clutching at her face as though to hold her head up. “You’re even more beautiful in person than I imagined.”

“We have to go, but thank you, sweetness,” Kenzie was whispering to her, and blew her a kiss as Duncan opened a door at the other end of the room, urging her through it gently. The girl blushed deeply, her mouth falling open, her eyes glowing at them.

Then the door swung shut behind them and they were in Annette’s library. Blessedly, deserted. The library was tucked near the center of the mansion’s floor plan, therefore often not discovered by those who weren’t familiar with its vast layout--but Duncan had spent most of his childhood after he’d learned to read in this room, and knew it like the back of his hand. The mansion would be his someday, and Duncan knew he’d keep it for one reason and one reason alone--this room. The fixtures were all brass, the six embossed electric chandeliers with eight flower-shaped bulbs apiece flaring into low light as he flipped the panel of switches by the door, and the wood paneling was cherry-russet oak, deeply pleasant to look at, warm and comforting. There was a huge fireplace along one wall, the kind of fireplace Duncan always imagined a king would have in a great-hall, and books stretched along every wall--so many books that he knew, as he’d known as a child, gratefully, that he’d never get a chance to read them all. Too many, and so, I’ll always have a new one to discover. Kenzie was gasping quietly at his side.

“Ohhh, Dunny. This is so fucking beautiful.” There was a second floor above them, too, with gilded metal railings, and the wood floors had dark-colored Persian rugs to muffle the sound of footsteps--to preserve the ever-hallowed quiet of a library. Duncan eyed the corner where the impressive Bosendorfer Imperial sat--he knew pressing the black C sharp key would unlock the door behind the bookcase there, but he hesitated, then went to a bookcase towards the back of the shelf lining the wall to his right, pulling Kenzie gently with him.

“Come here, baby, I wanna show you something.”

He went to a familiar corner (so familiar, with its rows and rows of mythology books), eyes drifting along the shelves--then they fell on what he was looking for. Duncan pulled the book down, its hardback edges fraying from use, its familiar golden cover immediately conjuring pleasant memories of him reading alone for hours, gazing raptly at the illustrations, hiding from the world. D’aulaires’ Book of Greek Myths. On its cover was Helios, the sun, driving his white stallions in a chariot of fire. Duncan flipped the book open, Kenzie staring through the crook under his arm now where she’d slipped, sweetly and quietly, and it fell open to an illustration of Persephone in a golden field of flowers, racing into the arms of her mother.

“This one really does sort of look like me,” Kenzie whispered up to him, her eyes stirring the love up from the center of him. He pulled her closer, her little arms dipping around his waist.

“I used to look at this book for hours and hours,” he murmured, turning the pages, washes of familiarity falling over him, the pleasant memories of cold winter evenings and hot summer days, hiding here in the warmth and the cool shadows. “You can practically see the stains from my fingers on it. I didn’t have any friends, so books were my friends.”

“Let’s bring it with us,” Kenzie whispered. “I want to look at it when we’re at the cabin. I wanna touch it and feel you in its pages.”

Duncan nodded to her, closing it carefully, bringing his lips down to her temple. Kenzie turned her head and pulled him down to her, fingers running down his stubble, kissing him deeply for one long, beautiful, extended moment. I felt you, feeling Annette’s pain. Needing your own time to heal doesn’t make you a cruel person, baby. Everything in its time. He clutched her, his love for her overwhelming and all-consuming--then their kiss broke apart, and Duncan was struck again by his need to be home, alone with her.

“Over here, Kenz, watch this.” Duncan led her over to the impressive Bosendorfer, its matte black surface polished to a high sheen, pressing the black key in the center of the piano. He heard the telltale click of the bookcase directly ahead of them dipping out--it was appropriately covered in tomes of gothic literature (Poe, the Brontes, The Mysteries of Udolpho, Dracula). Kenzie gasped in delight, clutching the book against her golden breast, her mouth falling open.

“Oh my god, Duncan, that is the greatest thing ever.”

“It leads to the underground garage. We’re gonna take one of the cars home tonight. That way we can take it to the lake tomorrow, and we won’t have to worry about anyone or anything. We can stay as long as we want and come back when we feel ready.”

Kenzie pressed against him, the crown of her gold hair falling against his chin, her body sighing with approval. Duncan’s arms came around her, clutching her tight, drinking in the rosy smell of her, the soft flowery scent of her shampoo and the product Hannah had put in it--like a sunlit shoreline, he thought. At any other time in my life I’d be utterly devastated by yesterday, destroyed by it. But how can I be sad when you’re in my arms, Mackenzie Stone? To love you is to be at peace, no matter what rages around us. The world could be falling down and still I’d be calm in your embrace. Duncan felt acutely that a page was turning now--the page was this evening, this Gala, this night, its glittering superficiality, its chaos, its energy intent on disturbing their peace, their love, their happiness--but it hadn’t succeeded, it had only made him more determined than ever to cherish this wondrous love he’d found, a love that was kindling at every moment the desire in him to be better, be gentler for her, be more forgiving, more intent on loving her in every moment.

They broke apart, and Kenzie was flitting ahead of him (on her fast little feet in those golden heels), pulling carefully at the bookcase and peering behind it, glancing back at him with exuberant eyes, her mouth open in an expression of glee. There was an elevator there, waiting open with silent repose, and Duncan stepped through to it, pulling Kenzie along with him, hitting a round gold button with a plaque beside it that read GARAGE. The elevator’s doors slid shut, silently, a low-toned bell sounding, and then the elevator drifted down. When it opened a moment later, Duncan saw the familiar expanse of the private garage in quiet, clean monochrome--a security guard with a shiny black bald head sat sleepily on a swivel desk chair in a nearby booth surrounded in plexiglass, and his head came up with a jerk at the elevator’s bell.

“Mr. Shepherd, I didn’t know you needed a car tonight, they didn’t tell me--” he started, going to stand.

“It’s fine, Henry, right? Not a big deal. I let Miss Stone’s mother take my private car home, and I barely had anything to drink, so we thought we’d take ourselves home tonight.”

“Sure, Mr. Shepherd, sure. Yeah, Henry. Any particular kind of car?”

“The G-Class, I think. We’re going to use it for a few days...to do some sightseeing.”

“Oh, man, I love that car, drives like a dream. Sure thing, Mr. Shepherd.” Henry was turning to a rack of keys behind him, pulling down a smart key that was mounted on a wall-set charger there--he pushed open the sliding door of the plexiglass booth and held it out to them. Duncan took it, holding down a button on the front of the smart key, speaking into it. The pad read I’M LISTENING.

“Come to me.”

Duncan watched Kenzie’s rapt face with delight as a black SUV with sharp lines backed out of a nearby spot from a low row of other black cars of different makes and models, straightened itself, and drove towards them with slow, creeping speed.

“Holy shit,” Kenzie whispered. “The car can drive itself.”

“Well, y’all can drive it too,” Henry laughed at her, and Duncan noticed the guard’s eyes falling up and down Kenzie’s golden dress and her tawny hair, admiringly. An angel, I know.

“Thanks, Henry.”

“Sure thing, boss. Y’all have a good night. I’ll log that you’re using it.”

Duncan nodded, reaching down to Kenzie’s hand, carefully still holding her train. Keep the truth of my adoption from me for 30 years, Mom, I think I can borrow a car from you. Annette would find out later that he’d taken a car, he was sure, but he couldn’t be bothered to worry about her reaction. He led Kenzie to the passenger side of the SUV and helped in her in, lifting her up gently, tucking the train around her. Kenzie was gazing into the leather interior of the dashboard, her eyes gleaming, her fingers white around her golden clutch. Duncan ran around to the other side, anxious at the thought of Annette catching them before they had a chance to escape, but then, slipping into the driver’s seat, his heart calmed as he gripped the steering wheel and he pressed the smart key again, hearing the biturbo engine roar into life. No, he felt certain. We’ll get away without a hitch. The Fates have written it, I can feel it.

He reached across the middle of the seats, and Kenzie grasped his hand on her lap over the book she still held in safekeeping, her fingers wonderfully warm, the diamonds at her wrist glittering. The Gala’s over, she thought to him, deep relief in the golden drift of her mind. I can’t wait to share these next few days with you. I feel like the greatest secrets are about to revealed to us. And I’m not afraid, baby. With you, all my fear melts away. I can see my destiny inside your eyes.

As I see mine in yours, he thought to her, and put his foot on the gas, drifting his hand out of hers and onto the steering wheel, pulling the car around to the exit tunnel that spread out from the other end of the garage--as they climbed up to ground level, Kenzie switched on the Sirius XM radio, turning the knob to a channel called BPM. Upbeat electronic floated into the car as the neon lights of the tunnel fell over Kenzie’s cheeks in gold and blue--we get it almost every night, when that moon is big and bright, it’s a supernatural delight, everybody’s dancing in the moonlight…

Kenzie began to sway back and forth in her seat, moving to the music, shifting her shoulders and tossing her rosy hair with aching loveliness that made Duncan’s heart feel as though it would leap out of his body, his head suddenly hazy with her. Her lovely voice washed over him as she sang along, her eyes glittering on him, her thoughts in the shape of golden kisses against him as he drove into the night, the moon still high above them, huge and round like some otherworldly fruit in the clear, starry sky.

“Dancin’ in the moonlight, everybody’s feelin’ warm and bright, it’s such a fine and natural sight, everybody’s dancin’ in the moonlight…”

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