Fear splintered through me. “Sam?”
“It’s all right.” He took my hand and drew me to the door, where I caught a sweet scent. And when I stepped inside, roses transformed the parlor into another world entirely.
Shades of red and blue clustered in vases on tables and shelves. They rested alone on the piano’s music stand and on the edge of each step of the staircase. They peeked from stands, from instrument cases, from behind the decorations that served beauty and acoustics.
The perfume was intoxicating, so rich I could taste it. A subtler, spicy aroma filled me up, warming me as the front door shut and Sam stopped beside me, wearing a smile. “I like it.”
“Did Cris run out of room in his greenhouse?”
Sam chuckled. “Not as far as I know.”
I drifted through the room, touching petals. “I like the way they’re all mixed together, the red and blue. Are these”—I bent to sniff one—“Phoenix roses?” They had more petals than the blue roses I was used to, like ruffles of wisp-thin paper.
“They are. As many blue and Phoenix roses as he could stand to lose.” Sam tugged off his boots and leaned against the piano, tracking my progress through the room. “I haven’t seen you look this happy in a long time.”
“It’s like a greenhouse exploded in our parlor and left—” I swept my hands around. They were everywhere, changing the way light and color caught my attention, drawing my eyes to places I hadn’t looked since I’d first come to Heart. They were by the cello, resting on the harpsichord, and threaded through my music stand.
And by my new flute, resting on its stand and polished to a shine, lay the most perfect blue rose I’d ever seen, with smooth petals so flawless they didn’t look real. The bloom bent under my fingertips, as soft as air.
I turned. “Why would you do this?”
He smiled as I stepped into his embrace, and his arms wrapped strong and solid around my waist. “Why not?” He pulled me tight, and when I lifted my eyes to his, he kissed me.
I lost myself in the brush of his lips, the thrill of his fingers against my cheek and neck and shoulder, and thump of his heartbeat under my palm. So engaged in the way his mouth fit with mine, I almost missed the purr of my coat being unzipped. When he paused his kissing, I stepped back, and he slipped my coat off my shoulders; I dropped my arms and the cloth fell with a soft whump.
“I love you. Have I told you that since you got back?” He curled his hands over my hips and didn’t wait for me to answer. “I want to tell you every hour. Every minute. Ever since you returned, all I can think about is how close I came to not having you at all. And how close you came to being—” He looked away, expression grim.
“You remember that?” I would be so grateful if I didn’t have to keep explaining it, or reminding him that I hadn’t actually been missing. “You remember everything I told you about being inside the temple?”
He nodded, looking wrecked. “I keep remembering it.”
“And the white wall in the north? Right before the dragons?” I bit my lip.
Recognition flickered through him, but he shook his head. “No. A little, but no.” He grew quiet, seeming distracted by my hair. It tugged and tingled across my scalp where he pulled his fingers through the waves. “There are things I should remember, but I don’t.”
“Yeah.” My heart thudded.
“You remember them.”
I offered a pale smile, relief that my newness was good for something. “I wasn’t reborn.”
“And there are things I’m remembering because of you.”
“Yes.” At least, it seemed to be my doing. It was unlikely that after five thousand years, the magic would suddenly begin breaking down in the middle of this lifetime. I was the only thing that had changed.
A tiny sense of importance surged through me.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said.
I looped my arms around his shoulders and pulled close. “Because I make you remember things?” I didn’t want to think about Janan right now. I wanted Sam to kiss me.
“Because of a lot of reasons.” He read my mind, or read the way our bodies pressed together, only bunched clothes between us.
Our kiss stopped time, stopped thoughts. All I knew was the feel of his mouth, the gasp and shuddered breath, and the calluses of his hands on my back. Cool air fluttered where he’d lifted my shirt, sharp contrast to the way he made me burn with desire. I didn’t have words for what I wanted with him, but if I could push closer and closer—
“No one would believe Ana was terribly ill for a week if they saw this.” Amusement filled Sarit’s voice, and I spun to find her—and Cris and Stef—crowding the kitchen doorway. “Oh, I’m sorry.” Sarit grinned, not sounding sorry at all. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I thought you should know we brought lunch.”