Page 128 of A Sanctuary from Shadow
“Yeah. It’s part of a theory on personalities developed by—”
“I’ve heard of Freud, Shorty,” Pete interrupted, chuckling. “I’m just baffled you hold stock in his theories. Wasn’t it he who claimed women envied men their cocks?”
I burst out laughing. Because he was right!
“Of all the preposterous notions—” Pete grumbled, smirking. “Envy, my arse. Any female with a cunny can have as many cocks as she pleases. For breakfast, lunch, and supper.”
Tears squeezed from my eyes. “Don’t forget dessert!”
“Oh, indeed—the best meal for cock.”
I snorted, paralyzed. Pete caught me before I toppled over.
“Oh, Goddess,” I groaned, dabbing my tears. The man who kept causing them chuckled as I righted myself. “I forgot about penis envy—such bullshit.”
“Aye—that’s why I questioned you.”
“I didn’t say I agreed with the dude, Pete. I just find how he classified parts of personalities clever. The id is basically a person’s primitive impulses—your selfish urges and your basest desires—your need to have exactly what you wantrightfuckingnow.” I paused to shrug. “And anyone’s a demon if that’s all they’re functioning with.”
He grunted, his lips pursing.
“I’m just saying—that monster in you is no worse than the monster in everyone else. The death poppy just took away your ability to control it.”
He quieted, considering me with such an avid gleam that I found myself closing the distance to him. Like a moth drawn to a tall, dark, and rugged candle.
Shaking myself, I skipped aside, out of his bubble. “Anyway—you—you were explaining how you got your shadows. Remember?”
“Ah, right.” Pete grinned like a male who knew he’d ruffled a female—and was gratified by it. “Well, when I finally came to, cold to my core, I had my shadows.” He shrugged. “I don’t recall a moment of receiving them.”
“Hm, not nearly as informative as you usually are, Pete, but I’ll give you a pass on this one.”
Pete chuckled. “Appreciated, Shorty.”
“As long as you do better with my next question.”
He rolled his eyes.
“So, say Gentian told you that he’d release you from servitude, that he’d remove that tether and let you go—that you’d never have to see him again. If you knew that would also mean renouncing your shadows, would you still do it?”
His eyes sharpened. “In a heartbeat, Shorty.”
I chewed my lip, debating his honesty. Most men in history would’ve rather given up their lives than give up power.
Noting my skepticism, Pete sniffed. “Would I miss my shadows? Aye, most likely. They’ve helped me through many a stramash over the years. And this—”
I yelped when darkness enveloped me. Black velvet surrounded Pete’s wry face—the only thing I could make out in his temperate oblivion.
Just like in my dream.
“This cloak has kept me out of many more stramashes.” I jerked into Pete, wisps caressing my back—shadow tethers. But at least he kept his hands to himself. “It has also helped me woo many a fine beyn in want of discretion.” His lips took a lazy curl, his eyes dipping along me.
I folded my arms. “Are you done trying to make me forget what we’re talking about?”
Laughing, he freed me to the moonlight, and we moved along. “I’d renounceallmy powers if it meant true freedom, Shorty. My magic is what got me here, and I’ve never been one of the fools who reveres his chains.”
I reeled back. “I’ve read that phrase before.” In fact, it was in the forward of one of the political books Daddy had given me.
“You’ve read Voltaire?”
