His face lit with adoration, and bolts struck all around us. They reflected in his eyes.

_______________

Now

From my subway bench, I gazed at nothing. He’d actually left me. Was I more upset that I’d lost my choirboy than I was about losing the Tower?

Ridiculous. The number-one rule of the game? Never, never develop feelings for another player. What kind of future could two cards have if they loved each other? They aged as long as the game wore on. So two possibilities existed—if they managed to eliminate all the other cards—and both were awful.

Either one would die young, or one would live old until the next game began.

Unless . . . they could rope in another Arcana to outlive them both.

I dreaded going home and facing my sister. She’d be able to see I was pining for Joules. How had he gotten under my skin in such a short time?

Maybe I’d sleep on this bench.

When a hot wind blew down the subway tunnel, I glanced up. A train was stopping. Not a single soul hopped on? Weird. I hadn’t seen anyone descend the steps since Joules had boarded his train.

I’d tried everything to stop him. I’d told him, “My sister said you could stay with us. You and I can share my room.”

He’d sputtered, “It would no’ be right!”

I’d told him that I was dying to sleep with him, but he’d cited marriage again, adding, “What if the condom broke? How could I support a family?” Plus he hadn’t wanted to disrespect my sister by doing anything under her roof.

My virtuous Catholic Irishman. I’d tried to guilt him into it, saying, “Everything has to be your way. You refuse to budge an inch. I worry about what kind of relationship we’ll have.” He’d looked stricken.

But he hadn’t come back with me to the apartment.

Then last night, out of desperation, I’d admitted that those Tarot legends were real. I’d explained everything: his role, my role, the history, the danger. I’d told him something bad would happen soon, and he might not be able to get back to me.

He’d stabbed his fingers through his hair. “The thought of being separated from you makes me barmy!” His heart had thundered; I’d heard it, which meant my senses were sharpening, and the game was about to kick off.

“But you don’t believe me,” I’d said softly.

He’d exhaled. “I don’t know . . . it’s a lot to take in. I believe you believe it.”

All the pleasures I’d offered him, all the manipulative tricks I’d used, and I’d failed—

“Cally?”

My head whipped around. Joules was exiting the train! My heart leapt, and I ran to him.

He clasped me in his arms, burying his face against my neck. “I’ve missed you this half hour, lass.”

I’d missed him too! “You’ll never make your flight now.”

He drew back to gaze at me. “I’m not goin’.” He grazed his knuckles over my cheek.

“But you’re out of money.”

He grinned. “Then I’ll bloody well rob banks.” He sounded so confident. And it was sexy.

“Bloody? You just cursed, choirboy.”

He nodded. “I’m goin’ to loosen meself up a wee bit. You were right; I was pushing for things from you and not budging an inch. That weren’t fair to you.”

“But what about your mother?”

“I’ll tell her I found a work-study program over here. Not a lie, since I’ll be working on robbery and you’ll be teachin’ me Boyfriend 101.” In a gruff tone, he said, “I’m new to all this. Have patience with me?”

“Same here, okay?” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this happy. I laced my hands behind his neck. “I can’t believe you’re staying.”

“If this game is real, I need to be here to defend you. If it’s not, I need to be here to help you.”

My lips parted. None of my tricks had worked; but his need to protect me had brought him back.

“I’m your fella, Cally.”

Something twisted in my chest. I just . . . I just broke the number-one rule of the game.

“And you’re my lass.”

“I am,” I told him, and this time it was the truth. We’ll figure out the rest. I was like one of those people in his tableau, falling headlong from the lightning-struck tower. But unlike them, I might not give a damn where or how I landed—as long as he was beside me.

He pulled me closer and leaned in. “C’mere.” He pressed his lips to mine. When I felt the first tiny sparks of his electricity, I smiled into our kiss.

Until something bit my ankle.

I jerked back. “Ahhh!” A rat was scampering away.

It wasn’t alone. They were bubbling up from the depths all around us.

“We’re leavin’.” Joules grabbed my hand and started for the exit.

A wave of rats crested over the top of the stairwell, squeaking madly and tumbling over each other in their haste. “No good! We’re trapped down here!”

He pulled me to the bench, and we climbed atop it. “We’ll be all right,” he said, not panicked at all. He’d been much more nervous about kissing! “This’ll get sorted,” he told me with a confident nod.

Patrick Joules kept his cool.

Even when a spine-tingling roar up on the surface grew louder.

Even when wide-eyed dogs with trailing leashes dove down those steps, and bloodied zoo animals followed them.