Mare whispered in his ear, her voice full and rich, making him shiver. ‘This is my room. No man has ever been in here before. We don’t bring men into our bedrooms. We’re magic in there and we can’t trust them.’

Oh, Christ, he thought, and nodded and began to turn away, and then she whispered, ‘Come to bed, Crash,’ and he shuddered as a wave of lust hit him and damn near knocked him off the roof, but she caught him and climbed through the window, pulling at his arm, and he fell into the magic that was Mare’s bedroom.


Her room seemed smaller with Crash in it, a little kid’s room with a witch’s hat on the bedpost and the cheesy crystal ball and black fake flowers on the vanity, and she swished her Corpse Bride dress a little from nervousness because it was one thing to boink with her boyfriend on a mountaintop and another thing entirely to bring her One True Love and future husband home to meet her bedroom.

‘So this is my place,’ she said, fighting back the heat that washed over her every time she looked up at him because that was the libido spell and she had to keep a clear head for this next part. He looked around, taking his time, and she did, too, biting her lip, seeing through his eyes the moth-eaten secondhand draperies she’d tacked to the walls every place she’d ever lived, covered with the sloppy blue flowers she’d painted on them when she was ten and the crooked gold butterflies she’d embroidered on them at twelve; and under them the beat-up iron bedstead she’d found in a junkyard at fourteen, its spirals broken and bent and some of them missing; and the silky blue comforter she’d gotten on sale when she was sixteen, the day she’d decided to have sex with him someday, whenever his dad stopped calling her ‘jail bait.’ She remembered that first time, how careful he’d been, and she put her hand out to steady herself on the bedstead as the libido spell got her again, or maybe it was just that memory. She jerked her mind back to the room and all its failings: the tacky zebra-covered fainting couch was missing one leg that she’d replaced with her copy of the OED, the cheval mirror that was so speckled with age that it looked like it had mildewed, the threadbare rugs and the cracked lamps, the whole place just so…

‘Great room,’ he said, his voice a little unsteady.

It’s a mess, she thought, it’s junk. Why would any man want to marry a woman who lives like this? ‘It’s not much,’ she said. ‘But you know, it’s-’

‘No, it really is great,’ he said, looking at her. ‘It’s hot and it’s magic like you,’ and she looked around again and saw the splashy flowers and the jaunty butterflies and his wicked black silk prom roses that Lizzie had gathered up off the road for her after they’d wrecked, and Py stretched out yawning on the windowsill-

‘I like it here,’ he said. ‘Do I get to stay all night?’

‘Yes,’ she said happily, and took off her veil and tossed it toward the bed. It floated through the air – she gave it a little help – and landed on the bedpost opposite the witch’s hat, the ends curling down to fold themselves like arms over the post.

‘That’s amazing,’ he said.

‘I can do better,’ she said, and pulled her dress off over her head and tossed it into the middle of the room where it pirouetted, its skirt spinning out around it, and then curtsied to him. ‘How about that?’ she said, and turned to look at him, but he was looking at her. ‘Hey, you missed it.’

‘I didn’t miss anything,’ he said, looking at her blue lace bra.

She sighed happily, and he didn’t miss that, either, so she kicked off her shoes and went over to crawl onto the bed and sit cross-legged with her back against the headboard, rosy with heat for him, smiling all over but determined to make sure he understood everything before they ripped into Xan’s libido gift.

When he tried to join her, she pointed to the footboard. ‘Sit.’

He sighed, but he took off his boots and sat down there.

‘Is there anything you want to know?’ she said, gathering her hair up off her neck where the heat was making it stick.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘How long am I going be stuck down here?’

She let her hair drop. ‘I mean about me. About this.’ She gestured to her dress, and it pirouetted again. ‘What’s to know?’

‘Well, it’s hereditary,’ she said, a little annoyed. ‘All right.’

‘So if you’re serious about getting married and having kids-’

‘I am.’

‘-there could be some surprises down the road,’ Mare finished. ‘Okay.’

Mare leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. ‘That’s it? Okay?’

Crash leaned forward, too. ‘You sit like that, anything you say, I’m going to say “okay.” But yes, okay. Our kids will be all right. They’ll be ours. Now can we practice making one?’

‘You sure you want to have them?’

‘Yes,’ Crash said. ‘We can start tonight if you want. I’m ready. I want to get married to you, and I want to have kids with you. But mostly right now, I want to have sex with you. Lots of it. As much as we both can stand. All night.’

‘Libido spell,’ Mare said. ‘My aunt cast it.’

‘No,’ Crash said. ‘I always feel like this about you. I always have. But you always had to come home and shut your window, keep your secret, shut me out. Now I’m inside. I’m staying. Anything else?’

‘Just like that,’ Mare said. ‘You want to marry me and have kids, my aunt does libido spells, my magic’s no problem.’

Crash sighed. ‘Okay. Tell me the part I’m missing that makes it complicated.’ He leaned back against the footboard, patient. ‘Put a little speed on it if you can. I want you.’

‘Well,’ Mare began, and thought about it.

She wanted to marry him and spend the rest of her life with him. She wanted kids. She wanted them while she was young. If she thought about it, she was ready now. There wasn’t anything she wanted to do that she couldn’t do while backpacking a baby. Crash’s baby. Maybe two. Two would be good.

‘Two?’ she said.

‘Two would be good,’ Crash said. ‘Maybe three. Four.’

‘Two,’ Mare said. ‘They shouldn’t outnumber us. We don’t know what they can do yet.’ Maybe it wasn’t complicated.

Crash stood up and stripped off his T-shirt. ‘Is this something we could discuss later?’ He sat down on the edge of the bed and shoved off his jeans.

‘Why, yes, I think we could,’ Mare said, looking at the muscles in his back. In his thighs. Well, everywhere.

She cautiously let go of the edge of her control and let the libido spell in just as Crash rolled onto the bed and reached for her.

He touched her and she shuddered, sliding against him as the memory of him came back.

‘Huh,’ she said, as the heat washed over her, the bubble in her blood and the prickle under her skin.

‘What?’

‘You’re right. It always feels like this.’ She arched up and kissed him, loving the feel of him against her, the sure pulse he started everywhere. ‘Just one more thing.’

He groaned and put his head down on her thigh, and she patted the top of his head, loving the way her hand bounced on his thick, springy dark hair, loving more the weight of his head there, the heat of his breath, wanting to pull him into her.

She drew in her breath. ‘You know how we always go up on the mountain?’

‘Yes,’ he said, his voice muffled.

‘That’s because everything up there is too heavy for me to lift.’

He picked up his head and looked at her.

‘When I get distracted,’ she said, smiling down at him, breathing hard now, ‘things move. So when we’re rolling around on this bed, as we’re gonna be very shortly, and I start to lose my mind, as I’m gonna very shortly, this place is going to get active. Try to keep your head down.’

He sat up on the edge of the bed and looked around. ‘Anything in here I should know about?’

Come back here. ‘I don’t know.’ She leaned forward and put her chin on his shoulder, refraining from biting it only by Herculean control, and looked around with him. ‘I’ve never had sex in here. I mean, there’s loose stuff like hairbrushes and shoes and my jewelry, that stuff, and I collect a lot of things, but I’ve never done an inventory. I wasn’t expecting to invite you tonight, so I didn’t go through looking for projectiles, you know? I didn’t, like, sex-proof it.’

Crash looked over his shoulder at the dressing table.

‘We can go up on the mountain,’ Mare offered, praying he wouldn’t take her up on it. The mountain was minutes away.

‘Oh, no. It’s taken me years to get in here, we’re staying.’ He looked at the pointed witch’s hat on the bedpost. ‘This is the first time in my life I’m wondering if it’s a good idea to be naked for sex.’

She bit him gently on the shoulder.

‘So that’s a yes,’ he said, and kissed her, and she kissed him back as he slid his hand up her thigh, and the kiss lasted longer than they’d meant it to, neither one wanting to stop.

‘We could start slow,’ she whispered against his mouth, when they broke for air, breathing hard against him. ‘See what happens.’

‘Uh, Mare?’ he said, looking over her shoulder.

She turned her head. Her Corpse Bride veil was floating behind them. ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘No pins. That crown thing is a headband. Kiss me again.’

He kissed her again and she closed her eyes and sighed against his mouth, letting the kiss seep into her brain as his hand moved to her breast, her blood hot now, breathing with him, but when she opened her eyes, he was looking up, his mouth still on hers and his hand still curved around her, but not really paying attention. She pulled away and looked up, too.