Tabby paced in the kitchen. Dawn was at hand, and with it, she felt something stirring in the back of her mind. A familiar presence, faint but recognizable.

"Let me get this straight." Midnight sat at the table. "Conrad Steiner recruited you, you trusted him, and he turned out to be Deadlock. The Deadlock? Full mask. Council member." Steiner had already removed his mask when they'd found him in the temple corridor. So Midnight really had no idea.

"The one and only."

"And you still trust him?"

"More or less."

"That's careless, Tabby. You know better. I trained you better."

"I trust him, Midnight. And you should too."

"He let them torture you! Watched and did nothing. I never would've stood by, never would have allowed—"

"Not torture," she said, cutting off his tirade. "Reaper whipped me in front of him. Steiner left after that—presumably to summon you. And besides, he apologized."

Midnight huffed. "Yes, I heard his apology."

"You...you did?" She stopped pacing.

"I was in and out of consciousness. But yes." He hadn't appeared to be awake, but then again, she'd been distracted by Steiner. And Midnight was good—too good—at sneaking.

Midnight sighed. "Steiner cares about you a little too much, but that doesn't mean I have to like him or trust him."

Her face heated at the idea. She glanced away, unwilling to meet his gaze.

"He's too old for you, Tabby."

She snorted, turning to him with a glare. "What?! And you're not?"

"I never said I wasn't."

The presence in her mind strengthened, coming to life with warmth and comfort, until the full force of it slammed against her. "Nit," she gasped. Her mechanimal's prism was finally charged enough to bring life. Nit would live. But would they be the same?

There was a distant buzzing, a clatter, and the kitchen erupted into commotion. Nit zoomed in like a bullet, buzzing about. She watched with a growing smile, weak with relief. Nit flew to her, flittering around before landing on her shoulder to nip at her ear, her hair, her neck. "I missed you too," she said, speaking aloud for Midnight's benefit.

"It worked." Nit's voice rang with excitement. "He's alive!"

"Thanks to you, my friend. You were brilliant!"

"Pretty smart mechanimal you've got there." Midnight crossed his arms, eying the two of them. She didn't miss the way the corners of his mouth twitched. Not a smile, but she'd take it. "Changed form on me three times, you know. Wasn't expecting that."

"Midnight, meet Nit. Nit, Midnight. Though, Nit already knows all about you."

Aside from her additional abilities with light, she'd already told Midnight about Nit, about her prism tech, and even showed him some of it. She told him everything, from the illegal work she did with Elias—which he'd already mostly known about—to the other secrets she'd kept. Plus everything her and Steiner had accomplished together in bringing down the Spectrum—or trying. She left out one key piece of information: her father's identity. She didn't say a word about how she was selfishly doing this to learn his name and make him pay for what he'd done to her. Instead, the picture she painted was different. To Midnight, everything she'd done was to free herself—and Candela—from the Spectrum.

"So what now?" he asked, much to her surprise.

"Now? Uhm..." Her ego flared, that he would ask her what came next, leaving her flushed. "Now we get some rest. Steiner will be back at nightfall to discuss our next move."

"And what will that be? Fleeing Chroma, I certainly hope." He arched a eyebrow. A perfect eyebrow. Light! Sometimes she forgot how handsome he was. She'd grown so used to his face. He hadn't mentioned their last moments together before his brush with death. Their kiss. His apology. All of it hung between them like one of those charged electrical wires Elias sometimes played with. She wasn't sure if they'd ever speak of it, wasn't sure she had the courage for it.

"I...I don't know yet." She brushed hair from her face. "I'm not sure if it's come to that."

"Why wouldn't it? We're not safe here."

While she agreed, she wasn't ready to give up the hunt just yet. So they discussed their options: hiding, fleeing, staying, finishing her work. Each one ended the same, even with the knowledge Reaper had imparted with his dying breath. With Ghost still living, still in control of the Spectrum, it was a matter of time before he sent Spects after them. They could fight back, but not forever.

"And you really believe Reaper's last words?"

She sighed. "I think so. Hubert Maltby..." She blew out a breath. "I should have expected someone so conveniently situated. It makes sense. Maltby is Prince Edwin's right hand. It gives Edwin additional control, having someone like that behind him."

Midnight barked a laugh, pinning her with a look of seriousness. "It would certainly give our prince access more power than any one person should have." A dark look had settled over hie features. Dark and unreadable, even after so many years of knowing him. It was the kind of look that made her squirm, ill at ease.

They sat in silence until the minutes stretched out. "Let's get some rest," she said at last. "Nit will keep watch outside. They need to charge up a bit more in the sun, anyway. They'll alert us if anything goes amiss, won't you, dear?" she caressed Nit's birdy chest and shooed them from her shoulder.

"Yes, that's probably best," Midnight said, rising so she could show him to his room.

***

Alone in her room, Tabby began cleaning up. She wiped away blood from her arms, then dunked her cloth in the basin of water. The motion was relaxing. Wipe, dunk, squeeze, repeat—

A tap at the bedroom door made her freeze. "Yes?"

She had set Midnight up in Elias's room and waited until he went to bed before cleaning up. Or rather, she thought he'd gone to bed. "May I come in?" His voice was muffled.

She glanced down at herself, still dressed in her bloodied pants and the binding around her breasts she'd not yet removed. She sighed. "Yes. Come in." It wasn't like he hadn't seen her like this—worse even.

He stood in the doorway looking at her. His expression changed, resolved. He strode over, holding his hand out. "Here, let me." He took the cloth before she could stop him. His fingers captured her chin, tilting her head up into the light, warming her skin. He was surprisingly gentle as he washed the blood and grime from her face and neck, finding all the places she'd missed. She didn't take her eyes from his face, captivated by the determination that flared in his expression, the way his jaw hardened with each bit of blood he wiped clean.

Sometimes his eyes flashed to hers, and each time that happened, something smoldered between them.

She blinked. This wasn't him. He'd never been one to fuss. He never so much as touched her unless they were sparing or fucking. And even then, there was never anything caressing or careful about his movements. But now....

With each bloody reminder of what had happened, she waited for him to comment on her carelessness. To scold her for getting herself caught. She expected some sort of irritation towards her. He'd always critiqued every facet of her behavior, but now, he didn't so much as mention it.

She was...relieved. Light, so relieved. It felt better to push the experience aside and pretend it hadn't happened. The torture was punishment enough for her mistakes.

He finished with her shoulder then looked down. "You going to stay in those bloody pants? Wear them like a badge of honor?"

Heat rushed from her center, down her arms and legs. Something about this was...different. But why? Because of their kiss? Because they'd gone rogue? It wasn't like that changed anything. His outlook on love wasn't a switch to be flipped.

She sighed. Donning more confidence than she felt, she undid the ties of her pants, slipping out of them. Then she undid the binding around her breasts, breathing deeply once she'd freed herself. He'd seen her ass plenty, but never her breasts, not since she'd become a woman, anyway. For that reason, she felt more self-conscious than ever.

He made no comment at the sight of her. But she didn't miss the way his eyes flicked over her, down and then up. Searching for hidden hurts, she told herself. He dipped and wrung the cloth then continued.

She studied him, watching his movements, trying not to dig too deeply into them. He was dressed in a billowing white shirt with a deep V neckline and black cotton pants that were almost too tight, though she didn't mind the way they outlined every muscle along his thighs. They were old clothes Elias had laying around. The damn hobgoblin was a hoarder. Obviously it wasn't anything Elias had worn, since he was about half Midnight's height.

"You're staring," Midnight said, eyes briefly catching hers. She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it. His senses were too uncanny. She cleared her throat.

The water in the basin ran red with blood. He draped the cloth over it and met her gaze, reading her like an open book. "I'm too old for you, Tabby." His voice was softer than usual.

"Like that ever stopped you," she snapped, immediately annoyed that he'd known her thoughts. But he was right. Twelve years was a decent gap, even if arranged marriages around Chroma's elite sometimes boasted twenty or more. "Besides, we don't belong to the Spectrum anymore."

"Tabby..." He sighed, resigned. "Be realistic."

"Fuck realistic, Midnight." Her fists clenched, but she was ready to stand her ground. Even naked. "You and I are anomalies. We don't fit into any normal set of rules. So we make our own."

He grunted, looking down at her. "You need to find someone your age. Someone like Pe—"

"No. Don't you dare." He stilled. "Don't you fucking dare. I know what I want," she whispered, holding his gaze, challenging him.

"No. You don't. The Spectrum never allowed you the freedom to know what you want." He turned to leave.

She panicked and grabbed a fistful of his tunic, stopping him. He froze, but did not turn to face her. "I'm not a child!" she hissed. "Don't treat me like one." He sighed, but didn't pull away, remained frozen. "Why did you come for me, Midnight? Why did you save me?"

"You know why." His words were dangerously quiet.

"No. I don't. So why don't you tell me? Was it because you're my master? You feel responsible for me? Or was it something else? If you were a proper Spect, you would have left me to die. Fled Chroma to save yourself." A low laugh fell from her lips. "You know, when I tortured Beast and his apprentice, Beast did nothing. He watched as I did it." She tried to push the images from her mind—to detach herself from the emotions. "He didn't so much as volunteer a name. I slit Carson's throat right in front of him. That's how a proper Spect ought to behave. What happened to 'Love is a blade' hmm? What happened to—"

Midnight spun around and grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her to him, crushing his mouth against hers, effectively cutting off her words. She was so shocked, she didn't kiss him back. Not until his lips began moving over hers, his tongue pushing against the seam of her mouth, forcing her to open for him. His movements were angry, hungry, demanding. His hands slid over her face, claiming, then down over the bare skin of her neck and back, sending a trail of fire in their wake. She kissed him deeply then, finally surrendering, letting her body relax against his, twisting her fingers into his hair. Light, it was just as silky as she expected it to be.

A small groan burst from her chest, which made his hands tighten against her. In one swift movement, he grabbed her thighs and hefted her up. She wrapped her legs around him as he carried her to the bed. They tumbled onto the blankets. His hands roved over every part of her, making up for lost time, like he'd wanted to touch her forever and finally could. Every place he landed erupted with sensation, and those sensations were fuel for the raging fire in her core.

Their breathing turned to panting. Midnight abandoned her mouth and found her throat, leaving fervid kisses down to her chest, then her breasts. He palmed one and wrapped his lips around the other, swirling his tongue over it before gently taking it in his teeth. She groaned, her back arching into him. He huffed, the sound...pleased. His kisses went lower and lower until his mouth reached the apex of her thighs.

Heart hammering, she squirmed against him. The stubble along his jaw was rough but inviting against the soft skin of her. Like with everything he did, he was thorough, with expert attention to detail. Every stroke of his tongue along her seam, around the bundle of nerves at her center, was equal amounts of pleasure and frustration. She couldn't keep still, fisting the blankets beneath her, until she abandoned them to take fistfuls of his hair. He growled, low and animalistic, when she pulled too hard, but never stopped.

The moment his fingers joined in with his mouth, slipping inside of her, a cry fell unbidden from her lips. Her hips bucked up, uncontrolled. Her body trembled, heat building. "Wait," she gasped. "Wait."

He paused, looking up from the apex of her thighs. His face was flushed, lips glistening and swollen. There was a glint in his eyes, something she'd never seen before. Pure male satisfaction. "Yes?" The way he said it, taunting, teasing. Oh, Light.

"Not like this," she breathed, wanting more. More, more, more. Wanting everything. "I want you inside me when I come."

"I already am inside of you." To prove a point, he slid his fingers deeper, curling them inside her. Her core clenched. She shuddered, squeezing her thighs around him.

"That's...that's not..." He curled them again, stroking, watching her with quirked lips, watching the way she arched her back and squirmed against his touch. Satisfied that she wasn't going to protest further, he ducked back down and resumed his onslaught. It was clear he had done this plenty, but never with her. Not until now. This was what she'd been missing, what he'd kept from her.

But, no longer.

More cries fell from her lips, hips bucking. He spayed a skilled hand over her stomach, holding her firmly against the bed to keep her still. The possessive movement took her over the top. A series of desperate mews broke free as she came apart. Her core erupted, chest heaving, as wave after wave of satisfaction pulsed through her, until her body went limp, boneless.

Midnight's movements were slow, lazy. He stood and undressed. She watched him, dazed, allowing herself to take in more of him, appreciating every inch of solid muscle. Her eyes fell to his cock. She'd only ever stolen glances at it, never allowed herself to be caught looking for fear of his disapproval. Now she looked her fill, unblinking.

A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest as he took in her assessment. "Appreciating the sight of me?" he asked, a mischievous grin splitting his lips. Who was this person? This person positioning himself between her thighs. He kissed her, not hard like before, but gentle in a most unexpected way. "I know more than just fucking, by the way, in case you were wondering."

"I'll believe it when I see it," she whispered, breathless. Her hands explored everything she could reach on him, from his broad shoulders to his muscled back. He positioned himself at her entrance, rocking against her before sliding in, just a bit, then pulling out, then sliding in.

Then with one swift stroke, he buried himself with a strangled, "Fuck!" as she gasped. Despite the countless times he'd fucked her, despite all the times he'd buried himself in her before, this was different. His body was lined to hers, warm skin against warm skin, contact in all the right places. The feel of her pelvic bone against his. It was pure bliss.

And Midnight was right; he did know more than just fucking. His efforts were slow and deliberate. Infuriating and maddening. Gentle and tender. He buried his face in her neck, nipping at her ear. A new wave of pressure was already building in her core as their breathing turned rough. She twisted her legs more tightly around him, caging him against her, holding him. He found her lips again and again, whispering her name against them as they came together, eyes locked, so much passing between their gazes. Years and years of things left unsaid, all coming out into the open at once.

Even coming down from her high, she held him against her, unwilling to let go. This was what it should have been like all those other times. She worried that the moment she released him, he'd revert, and she'd lose this side of him.

He slowly pulled out of her and moved onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow to gaze at her. His finger stroked down the side of her face, caressing. "I should go," he said, his voice a low rumble. "This bed isn't big enough for both of us and we need sleep."

"Stay," she whispered, begged, hating how desperate it sounded. His eyes roved over her face, as if he wasn't sure if that was okay. Perhaps waiting for her to change her mind. Then he exhaled and settled down beside her, still breathing hard. When he tangled his legs in hers, covering her chest with his arm, letting one hand cup her breast possessively, she wanted him inside her all over again.

Was this even real?!

Dawnlight streamed in through her window. Nit soared happily far above the workshop, keeping an eye on all sides of the building. She felt Nit's contentment melding with hers. If she was happy, so were they. And in this moment, she was very, very happy.

She alternated between stroking Midnight's hair and massaging the muscles on his neck. He groaned and melted deeper against her with each of her movements. Then he grumbled something that sounded a lot like, "If you keep doing that, we won't be getting any sleep," which left her smiling.

But they did. Eventually they drifted off as they lay entwined, and it was his kisses that woke her hours later at midday. She found him still draped over her, watching. "Hi," she managed. His gaze stripped her bare.

He trailed his fingers down her side and she let a giggle slip from her lips, capturing his fingers with quick reflexes.

"Hmm...I like that sound. Your laugh. You're happy."

She groaned, stretching her aching muscles. He'd left her sore, even though he'd been gentle. "All right," she chuckled. "Where's Midnight and what have you done with him?" It was only meant to tease, but his face hardened, like she was reminding him of what he was supposed to be. He looked like he wanted to say something but didn't. "Tell me," she urged, then pinched him much harder than necessary.

His loud exhale rustled the hairs around her face. His words were slow, measured, as he said, "Something inside me shattered last night when I saw you in that chair, at Reaper's mercy. I've never killed so quickly. I..." His face crumbled, then. The expression so vulnerable , something she'd never seen from him. But just as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared, replaced by a mask that might as well have been the one he wore when killing.

They both knew what it meant. She had become his weakness, the one thing he'd trained her against. But as much as she was his weakness, he was also hers.

She brushed his hair back from his forehead, letting the pads of her fingers linger over his skin. "We don't have to talk about this if it's too much..."

"No. We do." He shifted, propping himself up to better see her. "There's something I want to know. Not about last night, but about...before. Years ago."

"Hmm?"

"When you came to me for sex, I cared about you in a healthy way, the way a master cares for an apprentice, but no more. Until then, I'd only ever seen you as a girl. You were still young—"

"I was nineteen."

"Even still." He ran a hand through his tangled hair. "You pushed and pushed and pushed. Too fucking persistent for your own good. And me? I was too weak. I shouldn't have agreed, but I did. How could I say no when—"

"When I peppered you with my womanly charms?" She grinned at him, trying to lighten the mood. This was clearly about to be a serious conversation. One she'd hoped would never come up.

"No. When I worried you'd disregard my lesson about Peter. That you would go back out and find another. Break their heart. Or worse, break your own. Better that I keep you satisfied and limit the emotional onslaught that would otherwise ensue. That, at least, was within my control."

"Thank you for that, by the way."

He stilled. "For what?"

"For sparing Peter's life."

He hesitated and then—"You found him."

"Only once. I..." She swallowed down the rising emotion. "I didn't go to him, but I saw him. And I realized then what you'd done for me. Showing your humanity like that."

He was quiet for some time. "You're welcome," he said at last. But that wasn't the end of this. He cleared his throat. "When you came to me that day," he continued, "Did you lie to me?"

"About...?" This earned a hard look.

"You know what about."

She scrubbed a hand across her face. Her chest fell. She sighed, loudly, because he'd know if she gave him anything but the truth. "Fine. I lied." He swore, jaw tightening. "I knew you would refuse otherwise," she argued. "I knew you'd say no."

"Rightfully so, Tabby!" He sat up, away from her, and the sheet pooled about his waist, leaving his muscled chest and arms exposed. He shook his head. "Fuck. Fuck. I wasn't gentle. If anything, I was rougher because I was so frustrated by what you wanted from me. You swore you weren't a virgin. You promised me that you weren't. I even saw you leaving—"

"Just because I visited Willow Lodge once or twice doesn't mean—"

"What the fuck else is it supposed to mean?!"

She heaved a sigh. "I was visiting Clarabel. I—I'm sorry. I'd say I regret lying to you, but I don't." Her eyes searched his. "How about we pretend this was our first time together. Even though I really did enjoy our other first time. I came back for more. Obviously."

His lips pressed into a thin line. When he next spoke, his voice was calmer. "I thought fucking you would keep my feelings under control. But when I saw you last night—"

She snorted. "Well that was stupid, wasn't it?" She didn't wait for a response. Instead, she moved, she pushed him on his back and straddled his hips. "Now, my turn."

He tried to stop her. "Tabby...we should check on things, make sure everything is fine." His voice was riddled with avoidance.

"Everything is fine, Midnight. Nit has it under control. Stop worrying."

"Nit has made you lazy."

"Not at all. I work smart, not hard." She grinned then. Whatever he wanted to say died on his lips the second she found them, kissing him deeply. He hardened against her. She took his length in hand, none too gentle, and he groaned, long and drawn out. The sound thrilled her. When they fucked, he'd always been silent, barely letting anything escape. But now, his sounds were responsive. She tugged at his bottom lip and then shimmied and slid him inside of her, sighing deeply as he filled her. Her hips moved against his, rocking. He sat up, wrapping one arm around her waist, unbraiding her hair with the other, running his fingers through it to free it. Each touch against her scalp was tantalizing. "That's better," he whispered against her ear.

She huffed and pushed him back against the bed, pinning him, grinding her hips against his. Delighting in the feel of his pelvic bone against her clit. Her hair, unbidden, fell around her shoulders in thick tresses. He took some of it in his hands, holding it back to keep it from her face while his other hand pawed at her hips, guiding, caressing, teasing. Then his fingers trailed down her sides, tickling, and another giggle escaped her lips. She jerked against the sensation, feeling the movement deeply inside her, and grabbed both of his hands in hers, pinning them above his head. He huffed but let her have control of him, even if it was granted temporarily. As she moved, she didn't take his eyes from her face. And soon, they slipped into oblivion together.