He gave me a sympathetic smile. “The supernatural plane didn’t burn you.”
“Damn sure did,” I argued, remembering it so vividly. “It peeled the skin right off my bones.”
“But when you materialized, were you harmed?”
“No. It was so strange.”
“Again, it didn’t burn you. But it is hot. And cold. The rules of this plane don’t apply, like a human in space who is exposed to the solar winds. Except, we are no longer human, and it’s still our plane, and we can navigate it at will.”
“Then what happened, because my skin was being burned away like someone had taken a blowtorch to me.”
“That wasn’t your body reacting to the heat and cold from the other dimension. You did that yourself. It was a physiological response to what your mind perceived as reality. In that state, not much can harm you.”
“Okay, then, speaking of space, what if I accidentally materialize there? I’ll just be floating in the vacuum of space. Body swelling. Blood boiling. Skin turning an unappealing shade of blue and freezing. Then, knowing me, I’d explode. Even if I managed to make it back to the planet’s surface, I would’ve been exposed to all those subatomic particles. You don’t come back from that.”
“Dutch,” he said, talking me off a ledge, “you control where and when you go. And how fast. You can even, to some degree, control the time there. Hell, since you’re a god, you could probably, I don’t know, navigate time.” His mind was suddenly racing. “There’s just no way to know what you’re capable of until you do it.”
“Okay, but maybe we should start small.”
He chuckled. “Sorry. You’re right. Okay, concentrate.” He held up our hands again. “Shift as far onto the other plane as you can.”
I dropped my hand. “You don’t like it when I shift.”
He didn’t agree, but he didn’t argue.
“It’s like you can’t look at me when I shift. Like I’m monstrous.”
“What?” he asked, dumbfounded. “You are still you when you shift, Dutch.”
“Then why do I repulse you when I do?”
He focused on the ceiling. “It’s not you. It’s me.”
“Seriously? You went there?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Reyes, what? Why don’t you like it when I shift, even just a little, to see onto the other plane?”
He turned away from me and practically whispered what came next. “When you shift, you see the real me. The dark side. It’s disturbing to know you can see that part of me.”
“Reyes, it’s fascinating.” I turned his face back to mine. “I’m amazed. It’s like you’re covered in a cloak of black mist. It cascades over your shoulders and down your back. I want a cloak of black mist. How cool would that be?”
He deadpanned me.
“Wait, if I’m still me and not some monster, how do you know when I shift? You know instantly.”
“Your eyes. When you shift, your gold eyes almost glow. They sparkle like glitter when you see into the other realm. Talk about fascinating.”
“So, it’s a good thing?”
“That part of it is, yes.”
“Because sometimes the way you react … you’re positive I don’t look like a monster? Like, maybe, a Chucky doll?”
“A Chucky doll?” he asked, baffled.
“Yes. I always had a fear growing up that I looked a little like Chucky. Something about the jawline. And you are, too, by the way. A very good thing. Okay, I think I’m ready.”
He repeated the instructions, telling me to shift as far as I could. I did, and I watched as the scene before me turned from the soothing neutral colors of our apartment to the raging colors of the otherworld. The storms swirled around us. Lightning struck close by, and I jumped.
But Reyes wasn’t watching the intangible world. He was staring at me and continued to do so a long moment, gazing into my eyes as I took him in. His smooth skin. His dark lashes. The otherworld intensified everything about him.
“Now, imagine you’re floating away one molecule at a time.”
I tore my gaze off him and focused on my fingers.
“Start at the tips.” He brushed his thumb over my palm. It caused a quake deep in my belly, like they were connected by a string. “Let the molecules go.”
He opened my hand, leaned forward, and blew softly on my fingers. His warm breath penetrated my skin and whispered through it.
“Let the molecules go,” he repeated, and slowly, atom by atom, my body began to dematerialize. It started with my fingertips. He blew again, and they flew into a gold vapor around me until Reyes’s hand slipped through mine completely.
Astonished and terrified—mostly terrified—I snapped back to the tangible world, the weight of my body taking shape again.
“That was amazing,” I said. I glanced back at him, and his brows were drawn into a severe line. “What?”
He blinked back to me. “Nothing. Sorry.”
“Oh, no, you don’t. We said no more secrets. What’s wrong? What did I do?”
“You’re right. It’s just … your color.”
“Now you’re racist?” I teased.
“No. It’s just—”
“Is there something wrong with it?” I asked, alarmed.
“No, not at all. I’ve just never seen it before. Anyway, you did it. And you can do more, as your recent trips would suggest.”
“Reyes, how do you not just fly around all the time, checking shit out?”
He laid his head against the headboard and laughed. “I do sometimes, but my life is on this plane.” He brushed his fingertips over my palm again, studying me. “I love every inch of you.”
My heart melted, and I hoped it hadn’t dematerialized and rematerialized somewhere else. That couldn’t be good. I turned in to him. “I love all your inches, too.”
He bent to kiss me but stopped halfway to my mouth. “I almost forgot.”
Before I could ask what, he rose from the bed and walked out of the room, flashing me his ass. I fought the urge to sigh. And snap a few photos.
I lay back and listened as he walked into the kitchen. If he pulled out the utensils again … But he came back with a bottle of champagne. The view this time was even more spectacular.