"It… resonates," she whispered. "It feels like… a part of me."
He was broke, alone, and surrounded by dildos in a fantasy world. Fantastic.
"Stay for dinner?"
And they lived—not "happily ever after" in the fairy tale sense, but properly . With understanding. With patience. And with a well-stocked nightstand.
She looked at him. He looked at her.
The moment Seraphine touched it, the wand glowed with a soft, divine light. She gasped.
She did.
One moment, he was stacking boxes of unsold novelty lubes in the back of his failing adult goods store, "The Silk Road." The next, a stray bolt of lightning—or perhaps a god with a cruel sense of humor—turned him into a faintly smoking stain on the linoleum.