Untamed

by A. G. Howard

  I crinkle my nose. “Yuck . . . really?”

  She shrugs. “Desperate times call for disgusting measures.” On the other side of the iridescent netting covering my face, she sorts out eye shadows, liners, brushes, and blush.

  My body feels light, like I could float away. It’s partly elation . . . partly nerves . . . and something more. Something I’ve never felt before.

  Or have I?

  The skin around my eyes tingles, as does the skin at my shoulder blades.

  Muffled laughter and footsteps drift through the living room’s paper-thin wall. It sounds like part of the crowd is headed out for a while. The beach house my dad rented has seven bedrooms, a loft, and four and a half bathrooms, but is still barely big enough for my and Jeb’s combined guests. I can’t imagine how packed it will be once the rest arrive.

  Gathering my energy, I drag off the netting and slide the newspaper clipping back into its spot in my scrapbook. I’m tempted to flip through the other pages. To glance over pictures of our art sales—limited edition paintings that Jeb will never be able to replicate, and my glass gem mosaics—along with goofy snapshots of the past four Halloweens, Christmases, summer picnics, snowball fights, and college pranks. Just one last glimpse of our time together as an engaged couple, captured between sleeves of polypropylene film, before we start this next chapter in a new scrapbook, embellished with white satin and tiny strings of pearls.

  Every inch of my skin flushes, thinking of what comes after the ceremony. It hadn’t been easy to wait the past few years, but life was complicated enough, working through Jeb’s grief over his lost artistic abilities, going to college, and balancing my royal duties in Wonderland with our human life. It never seemed to be the right time, until now. We’ve adjusted to our new roles, learned to make compromises while being honest, and have always been there for each other emotionally. And after tonight’s physical commitment, our bond will be unbreakable.

  There’s no more perfect start to our new life together than this: his strong arms holding my bared body as I trace each of the scars along his chest with a fingertip, healing his wounds with just a touch.

  “What’s with the goofy smile, Al?”

  I glance up, grinning despite myself.

  Jenara snorts. “You’re worthless today, you know that? Give it over.” She pries the scrapbook from my hand. “Most maids of honor don’t have to call on necromancy skills to get the bride ready. You’re paying me extra for this, right?”

  I lift my legs off the floor so she can help me with my underskirt. “Sure. Ten thousand times more than the wages we agreed on.”

  “Hmm, ten thousand times zero . . . I knew I should’ve had a lawyer look over those terms.” She holds the netting open as I plunge my feet inside, then grasps my hands to lever me off the couch.

  As I settle the elastic under the corset’s hem at my waist—so the slip puffs out to just below my knees—that tingling behind my shoulders escalates to a burning sensation. Before I even realize it’s my wing buds, they burst free: opaque white and glimmering with rainbow-colored jewels, splayed around me like a butterfly’s wings fresh from the cocoon.

  I screech.

  Jenara gasps, her eyes as big as quarters. “Al, what the heck? You can’t do that now!”

  “I—I didn’t mean to!” My shout reverberates around us.

  “Shh.” She smacks a hand over my lips and looks at the paper-thin wall. When we hear nothing but the steady hum of oblivious chatter from the guests in the other room, she lets her hand drop. “Okay . . . but you’ll have an audience within the hour. Put them back.”

  I try to absorb them, but my wings won’t budge. “It’s not working.” I try again. “I can’t.” My pulse spikes.

  Jen’s expression grows wilder. “Oh, huh-uh. You’re sparkling. And your eyes . . . you’re seriously not doing this on purpose?”

  I shake my head. A thousand glimmers of light reflect off Jenara’s face and the sunny yellow walls surrounding us. I tap my fingers along my cheeks, envisioning what I know must be there: black markings like curvy tiger stripes beneath my lower lashes that resemble Morpheus’s without the jewels. “My patches . . . how prominent are they?”

  Jenara’s gaze is nailed to my eyes. “It’s not just the markings, Al. It’s your irises. They’re . . . purple.”

  “Purple?”

  Jen nods. “And it’s not a subtle shade . . . it’s otherworldly weird.”

  My stomach drops. “This can’t be happening.” My hair begins to sway around me—a taunting dance of magic unleashed.

  “Holy crap,” Jenara blurts as a few of the strands reach out to her. “Is this like a netherling flu or something?”

  “I—I don’t know.” Fingers trembling, I capture my unruly waves and knot them at the nape of my neck. “What are we going to do?” Panic coats my vocal cords, making me hoarse—as if I swallowed liquid sandpaper.

  Jenara kneads her hands. “Well, you can wear your hair up, and we can say we got creative with your makeup. The wedding veil will hide your eyes during the ceremony. Afterward, you can tell people you’re experimenting with special-effects contacts. But the wings . . . I—I don’t think we can possibly disguise those.”

  There’s no looking glass for me to check the full extent of my netherling display, for obvious reasons. I didn’t want any mischief weaseling its way into today’s festivities, so I chose the smallest room because it had no mirror, trusting Jen to do my makeup and make me presentable for the wedding. The drawback to choosing this room is there’s no lock on the door, which now makes me even more vulnerable and accessible.

  Blasted hindsight.

  The flush in my maid of honor’s cheeks fires to an anxious red. “I’m getting your mom.” She starts to leave but pauses. “Just . . . stay here and watch the door. Try to keep calm until I get back. We’ll fix it, okay? Nothing’s going to ruin this for you and Jeb.”

  I nod, but it’s only for her peace of mind. How can this not ruin things? I can’t face our unwitting human guests with all of my dirty Wonderland laundry hanging out! This isn’t prom night at Underland. Having wings on a beach can’t be explained as easily as wearing them to a masquerade under black lights.

  Once Jenara is gone, I wedge the chair beneath the doorknob and tug a wing over my shoulder. The gems blink through a rhapsody of colors, just like Morpheus’s eye markings when he’s anxious or perplexed. A while back, I discovered that my moods show through my jewels like his. It’s something Morpheus kept to himself, and one of the reasons he likes to have my wings on display . . . so he can read me.

  But I’m the one who gets to decide when to let them out. I’ve been managing my netherling aspects effortlessly since I’ve been back in the human realm. Never once have I lost control. There’s trickery afoot here. And it started with that little blue cupcake that tasted of anise and honey.

  Anise . . . a flavor startlingly close to licorice. Licorice tobacco.

  I grit my teeth. “Morpheus.”

  Last night, before I returned from my dreams, I hugged him, something we don’t often do. We’ve laid out strict boundaries for physical contact, to honor my human life. But he’d been grumpy and ill-tempered with my subjects, which he rarely is, and I knew he was suppressing his feelings about my pending marriage. So I wanted to comfort him, to assure him his patience had not gone unnoticed or unappreciated.

  He hugged me back for all of five seconds, then pushed me to arm’s length. When he looked down at me, his expression was the furthest thing from sad or troubled. It was utterly composed, which is never a good sign.

  “I’ve decided to give you and your groom a wedding gift tomorrow, plum,” he said, opening his hand. An electric blue orb ignited in his palm, then took flight, hovering between us. “Since Jebediah gave up his ability to dream for Wonderland, you may share your dreams privately on your honeymoon. You will not come to Wonderland for that one night. Instead, Jebediah can step inside with you and your dreamscapes will bel
ong solely to him. But only if he can prove himself worthy of marrying a fairy queen.”

  Before I could capture the floating blue light, Morpheus shoved me out of my dreamscape.

  My hands fist in the netting covering my thighs. When I woke in this room this morning, I considered telling Jeb about Morpheus’s cryptic words, but didn’t have my cell phone because Jenara’s been doing her bridesmaid’s best to keep her brother and me from seeing or contacting each other until the ceremony.

  There’s no more time to waste. He needs to be warned that Morpheus has arranged another test for me to pass. Or, rather, one for him.

  I stumble over to the table for a second look at Mom’s birthday card, maneuvering my wings around the furniture arranged at odd angles in the too-small room. I lift the card, studying it carefully. Beyond the cute owl’s face on the front—subtle—and the “Whoooo’s birthday is today?” sentiment inside, Mom’s signature is in print. She always signs cards in cursive. Why didn’t I catch that? Or the fact that Dad hadn’t signed it, too? Come to think of it, I should’ve caught it all because I should’ve had my guard up. Morpheus has trained me better than this.

  But he knew I would be distracted with my brain in wedding mode. He was counting on it. And to make matters worse, there were no bugs to warn me. The beach house was fumigated a week ago due to an ant infestation, and the silence has been deafening since we got here. I suspect he had a hand in that, too. Yet he’s still keeping his vow not to come between me and Jeb, because he’s managed to make it my netherling traits that are causing all the issues.

  I’m on the verge of impressed, but it pales to the anxiety tying me in knots. How could I have been so careless?

  “Bloody mastermind moth,” I seethe, expecting to hear an echo of smug laughter stirring in my mind. When there’s no response, I clench my teeth and rip the card in half, angry there are no answers to be found there.

  “Okay, you got me. But you have to know you’re underestimating him,” I say aloud, in the hope Morpheus is at least listening. I sound strong and confident, even though nervous tears sting my eyes. “Jeb will find a way to make this work . . .”

  “You’re right, Al.” Jeb’s deep, determined voice pulses through me from behind—an electric current, setting all my nerve endings alight.

  I turn to see a single white rose wiggling through the cracked door.

  “Let me in.”

  Almost tripping over my wings, I rush over and scoot the chair away so it’s in the middle of the floor, then I back up to give him room.

  He steps inside—dripping wet in the remains of his prom tux—and shuts the door. He leans against it and stares at me. Sand and droplets of water sparkle on his forearms where he’s rolled the periwinkle dress shirt to his elbows. The placket, half-unbuttoned, bares his glistening chest. His navy pants are rolled up, too, stopping at midcalf. He must have left the blue velvet-flocked jacket outside, hanging somewhere to dry.

  “Jen tried to tell me about your eyes,” he murmurs before I can ask what happened to his clothes. “But there’s no artist’s palate, no comparison in this world for that color. Al, you’re so beautiful.”

  I was just thinking the same about him.

  “And you’re so wet,” I say stupidly. It’s hard to think past the way the soft light reflects off the sheen of his olive complexion, sparkling silver labret, and dark, unruly waves dripping water across his forehead and along the bridge of his nose.

  He doesn’t respond, too busy taking me in with his deep, mossy gaze. If Jenara were here, she’d insist I cover my corset and underskirt. No, she’d insist I kick him out. But being away from him since the reception dinner last night has been long enough. Even the chair standing between us feels like a mountain. I should move it, but he has me entranced. His gaze traces every turn of my body—a mental touch as intimate and thorough as a real caress would be.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t have chosen a beach wedding,” I tease, trying to suppress my overactive imagination.

  Jeb’s resulting sexy smile reveals that crooked incisor that I hope our future sons or daughters will inherit. “You mean, given our past experiences with large bodies of water?”

  I laugh.

  He laughs, too, but then his mood turns serious. “We found our way back to each other on a beach in AnyElsewhere. You made a vow to me there. It’s only fitting I make my vows to you on one. No matter what happens before or during our wedding. No matter what kinds of hoops Morpheus makes us jump through today, it’s worth it. We’re worth it. And we’re going to prove it to him.”

  I’ve never seen him look more confident or . . . energized. “Wait, are you . . . ? You’re enjoying this.” I grin tentatively.

  He shrugs and smells the white rose in his hand. “I like a challenge.”

  “Morpheus is going to hate that he can’t push your buttons.”

  “Psssh. We both know he’s thrilled I’m up for the game.”

  I shake my head, smiling. It’s strangely comforting, how well they know and understand each other now. “So, he’s the one who made you fall into the water?”

  Jeb forces his eyes from my half-dressed body to my face. “Well, technically, it wasn’t him. He’s keeping his word about staying away from our world. Corb was getting the ring bearer’s pillow ready when something pinched his big toe and made him drop the rings. A rock lobster plunged out of the sand, scooped them up, and scuttled into the waves.”

  “An actual rock lobster? Like the ones in AnyElsewhere?”

  Jeb tucks the rose’s stem into his pocket, then plucks his shirttail from the waist and starts unclasping the remaining buttons. “Yeah. I painted some for Wonderland before we left, when I reinvented the landscapes. Morpheus had requested them specifically. Proof without a doubt he sent that one here.”

  It’s a struggle to follow the conversation because all I can do is watch how the wet clothes cling to Jeb’s toned form with every movement. “So . . . you dove into the ocean to get the rings back?”

  “I tried, but couldn’t outswim our thief.” He peels the soggy fabric from his shoulders and arms, revealing water-slicked abs and droplets beaded along the dark hair dusting his pecs. “I asked your mom to contact Ivory through the mirror in her room. She had a magical flute at her castle. I saw it while we were there. Come to find out, the instrument works on the clams in our world, too. They flushed the lobster to the shore. The rings are now tied safely in place. Corb’s keeping the pillow with him until the ceremony.”

  I think back on the clams we met in Wonderland on our first visit there . . . how I played a flute that called and commanded them. How in a sweep of dingy gray, they came rushing to our rescue when we were being chased by an army, and carried our pursuers away on a surge of rattling shells. I’m even more grateful now than I was then. I just hope no one saw anything.

  “Don’t worry about the guests,” Jeb says as if reading my thoughts. “Your dad kept everyone preoccupied. He took them on a tour to the other side of the beach where the sailboats dock.”

  Relief washes over me. But it’s only temporary, considering everyone is going to see me soon.

  “Shouldn’t we address the flying elephant in the room?” I ask, flapping my wings.

  Jeb lays his dripping shirt over the chair’s wooden arm. His Adam’s apple moves on a slow swallow. “You mean the fact that you’re the most radiant and magical woman I’ve ever seen?”

  Woman . . . I don’t think he’s ever called me that. His gaze is so intense, my legs wobble. I inch toward the bed, needing its support against the back of my calves and thighs.

  His gaze stalls on my blue lips.

  I rub them. “It was dumb. I ate a cupcake that came out of nowhere . . . I know better than to eat anything strange.”

  “No. Mort would’ve found some way to make this happen, with or without you eating anything. He’s making a point. I’ve proven my worth to be a husband to your human side by almost dying for you more than once. But he wants me to
be worthy of your netherling side, too.”

  My mouth gapes. “That’s what he said in my dream!”

  Jeb frees the rose from his pocket and strokes one of the petals. “I shared his magic once. I know how he thinks. He’s proven his love for your human side when he wouldn’t let Ivory crown you and destroy it. So, he wants me to prove myself like he did. I’ve got no problem with that. It will be my honor to marry you today, in front of God and everyone, with your wings and netherling attributes in full view.”

  As lovely and sincere as the sentiment is, I can’t get past the logic of it all. “But this”—I spread my wings out behind me and they cast shadows over both of us—“I don’t know how to face an audience of humans without giving myself away. This is impossible.”

  “Nothing’s impossible. You taught me that a long time ago. On the bright side, we know the effects of the cupcake are temporary. Morpheus cares too much about your mending heart to endanger it by ruining your ability to live a fulfilling life here.”

  I nibble the end of my thumb, careful not to mess up Jenara’s meticulous French manicure. “Temporary can be anything from hours to a whole day.”

  “True. It’s going to last through the ceremony at least. But we can handle it. Just let me worry about what everyone thinks or sees. I’m going to fix this with human ingenuity and a touch of magic.”

  A touch of magic. “Wait . . . you’re not going to use your wish, are you?”

  “No. I promised you I’d find the right time to use it. It’s safe still. Your mom and Corb are taking the mirror portals to a few costume shops.”

  “For what?”

  “It’s a surprise.” He glances over his shoulder at the door, then again at me. “I should leave before Jen gets back. I was supposed to just hang my shirt outside on the doorknob so she could fix the stains and iron it. She’s going to flip if she knows I looked in on you before the wedding . . . but I wanted to tell you happy birthday.” He holds out the rose, a bit too far away for me to reach.