The ballroom is alive. Velvet drapes the walls, cobwebs shimmer under a chandelier above. The crystal light bulbs strobe and spin, carousing patterns on every inch of the room. Every inch of skin. The soundtrack, a chaotic blend of Ozzy Osbourne's "Crazy Train" mashed with Trick Daddy's "Let's Go,". The music earthquakes my bones.

Jace stepped straight out of an action film—a model esque Terminator in a leather suit that molds to his body. Under the strobing lights, his silver hair is cyberpunk...

My gown is a modern twist on Sara Conner, complete with sunglasses in a military themed leather dress. The corsets resemble bullets, flattened cases of silver pressed into the fabric. The corset hugs me tight, enhancing my curves. It's easy to walk, the leather ball gown flows with me.

Lil is Wanda Maximoff. The red dress is half pants half cape. It clings to her tiny, thick frame. The crown perched on her head. Jess is White Vision. Wanda's husband. The white, cut-up dress is a new twist. Her bright blue contact lenses is the cherry on top. 

The music surges a tempo that propels us forward. We break apart, spinning into the chaos. The floor pulses beneath my feet. I lose myself in the motion. I catch glimpses of my parents—Mom, painted green as Elphaba, sweeping her witch's cloak dramatically as she twirls with Dad, who is OZ The Great and Powerful from Wizard Of Oz. They're laughing, sharing a moment that warms my heart even amid the frenzy.

I turn back to Jace, who's now closer, watching me with a spark of amusement and something deeper. He raises a brow, challenging me, before I can think, I'm dancing my way over, our eyes locked in. The room falling away until it's just us. We move together, every beat a silent conversation.

Lil and Jess spin in perfect sync, laughing as they pull each other into the rhythm. I love the heat of the night, the joy, the intoxication of freedom.

The crowd is a vibrant sea of characters, each more elaborate than the last. Vampires with flowing cloaks and porcelain fangs. Witches wear sweeping gowns. Handsome devils whose red-painted skin glistens. There are phantoms in Victorian dress, their masks bright red.

The decorations are opulent, merging elegance with a touch of macabre. Deep purple  drapes hang from the high ceiling, their folds cascading like rivers of shadow. Cobwebs threads stretch across chandeliers, catching the light like fragile frost. Crystal candle holders line the tables, their flickering flames casting a haunting glow. Pumpkins are carved with intricate, lace-like patterns sit on polished side tables, their insides illuminated blue.

The tables hold platters of finger foods are arranged with exquisite care—miniature pumpkins carved out of flaky pastry filled with spiced cheese and skewered black olives. Puff pastry bats stuffed with herbed mushrooms. Towers of cupcakes decorated with orange and purple frosting, topped with sugar spiders. Tall drinks of neon cocktails bubble.

JACE

Tonight, we take on something entirely new—the Viennese Prance. Rapid turns, effortless gliding, and relentless speed.

Her navy-blue ballgown billows as I guide her into a tight spin, our movements a seamless blur of black and sapphire. The tempo is twice as fast as any dance we've done before, a true test of skill. My grip tightens on her waist as I lead her through a series of whirling rotations. I sweep her into a daring pivot, our feet crossing over in perfect harmony. The final sequence is a reverse fleckerl, an impossibly intricate maneuver that has us twisting. When the music ends, Madi crashes into my chest, breathless and alight with exhilaration.

"That... was fun," she breathes, gripping onto me. I smirk, tipping her chin up before stealing a lingering kiss beneath the chandeliers.

THANKSGIVING

The Beach estate smells of cinnamon, roasted turkey, and fresh-baked pie. My in laws, Lily, and Jess gather around the long dining table, the warmth of the crackling fireplace mirroring the coziness in my chest. This is our first real holiday together, and it already feels familiar.

We take turns saying what we're thankful for.

"I'm thankful for my sister finding happiness. And the free vacays." Lil winks.

"I'm thankful for all the love around us." Jess gets all mushy, her voice goes uneven.

"I'm thankful for my daughter's strength. And for Jace, who I see as a son, not a in law." Lucy eyes hold something deep, something approving. It means more than I can process.

"To our son from another mother." Paul raises his wine glass. "Thanks for making ours lives interesting." He cracks.

Madi squeezes my hand. "I'm thankful for family... and for Jace, who reminds me every day what it means to be safe."

I can't stop the way my fingers tighten around hers. My turn is next. "I'm thankful for my second family and my other half." She leans in, pressing her forehead to mine. For a moment, it's just us. Nothing else matters.

CHRISTMAS WEEKS

Madi and I make a DIY calendar, filling each pocket with handwritten love notes, and tiny trinkets. Each morning, she lights up when opening a new note. I swear I've never been more in love.

Light snow dusts over Cali. The type that won't last. I wish it could. I find Madi outside, swirling in the flakes, her silver hair matching mine. I join her in the silliness. I realize I haven't spun around since I was little. The effects of the dizzy spell has me on my butt in seconds. My hands are out trying to steady my off balance mind.

"Wow...old man, you've fallen and you can't get up!" She trolls.

"I'm not that old."

"Then why did you fall?"

I cautiously stand with my hands still out, now I really look like an elderly man. "It's been a while."

"Where's your cane?" Madi cackles.

Later on in the month, Madi and I give gifts. Madi surprises me with a scrapbook filled with pictures of us. Some images are from online media the rest were taken by her. Our adventures are neatly captioned and sealed with love.

I give her a carved locket that I made myself with our initials entwined in an infinity symbol. Inside is a folded note: Forever isn't long enough.

Christmas Day is better than any other. I locate Madi below a mistletoe outside my office. She must have hung it today. It wasn't there before. Her lips part, her fingers play with the dangling arch. "I've never been kissed on a holiday," she admits, her light voice barely above a whisper.

"You haven't??" Sometimes I forget how innocent she is. There's so much we have to do.

"No...but I daydreamed about it."

My arms lift, caging her between the doorframe. "Let me be your first," I murmur. Her breath hitches, her fingers trembling against my chest. I scoop her lips in a slow, benevolent kiss—one meant to be remembered, meant to be lived in, meant to be felt in the soul. Madi melts, her body raptured by heat. She exhales into me.  I tease my tongue along the seam of her mouth. Her whimper hums against my lips. I eat at her neck as a delicate vampire would.

"Hmm." She sighs. "I think you ruined me."

My smile is felt in my kisses on her jugular. "Merry Christmas, my love."

NEW YEARS

There's a Rooftop Rave in Cali. The skyline explodes with firecrackers, the booms vibrate through the rooftop as hundreds dance under stars. The sky is painted in every color possible. Madi and I are in the center of it all.

She's high on the night...while I'm high on her.

I slither pressing my body against hers, my hands resting low on her hips. I feel her, all of her, every sway, every shift, every pulse. She grinds against me, slowly, teasing. "Will I be your first new years kiss?" I mutter in her ear...knowing that I am.

My baby cradles my neck. "Yes..."

The countdown begins, the crowd goes wild.

"TEN!" I share a sensual gaze with her.

"NINE!"

"EIGHT!"

"SEVEN!"

"SIX!"

"FIVE!"

"FOUR!"

"THREE!"

"TWO!"

"ONE!"

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!"

The sky replicates a rainbow touched with silver. Madi fists my shirt, yanking me into her mouth, smothering herself until she's breathless and has to take in oxygen.

Our ride of choice is a motorcycle. Blackbird. The roar of the engine shatters the stillness. Madi and I launch forward towards the highway. I glance back at my wife—she's adorable in a helmet, she grips my waist to prep for the speed.  She's not afraid. Not even a little. I shouldn't be surprised. She skydived. Free-falling through the stratosphere makes riding a bike feel small.

I smirk beneath my helmet and twist the throttle. Blazing.

I hear my wife's tripping over her breaths. She doesn't know how to use her lungs against the air. The suffocating inhales are short and shallow...she's drowning on the adrenaline. This is too fast. I slow down. "Are you alright?"

"It's a lot of wind." Her raspy voice is a turn on.

"You'll get used to it."

The cool midnight air whips against our helmets as we weave danger. I missed this...I can finally destress with fun instead of work. It's been a while since I've been a daredevil. The tires rip the gravel. I bypass cars and trucks with ease, slipping through the spaces between.

Just then, I notice an object in the sky. Something that blocks out the stars. But it isn't moving. It's stagnant. The jet black exterior reminds me of the attack on Alodia.

It's back...and it's too close for comfort.

Instinct kicks in. My mind sharpens, my heart slams. I grip the handlebars. "Hold on tight!" I yell back so my bunny hears me over the wind. I lean forward, my body fusing with the machine, I feel Madi copy me. When I know she's secure enough, my foot floors the gas.

The rear tire screech against the pavement at lethal speed. The world streaks.

I check the side mirror.

The jet follows after us at an impeccable rate. Moving as if teleporting. Madi notices what I'm running from—her head turns, her body tensing.

I won't let anything happen to my future.

I swerve between cars, weaving through traffic with precision, my hands effortlessly controlling the clutch and throttle. The wind howls up a beast. My bike tilts dangerously low as I execute a knee-dragging turn, sparks fly from the metal gear, scraping the asphalt. I push harder. Faster.

The jet descends.

The Guardian satellite pings through my helmet's comm system. "Warning: Bogie detected. Weaponized craft. Hostile intent confirmed."

SHIT!!

A red alert flashes on my visor. The jet is locking onto us to shoot. How? This shouldn't be possible??!! How is this possible?! How is my satellite undermined??

"TARGET LOCKED!" My voice command reports.

I downshift and pull a counter-steer, launching into a reverse flick maneuver—throwing the bike left before jerking right—breaking the targeting system's predictive tracking. Madi clings to me all the while.

"TARGET DISENGAGED!"

The jet repositions, its nose downward. A launch sequence initiates. My blood turns to ice. We won't outrun a missile.

"Don't let go of me, hang on!" I shout to my love.

I pump the brakes hard, performing a rolling stoppie, balancing the entire weight of my bike on the front wheel. The sudden deceleration sends me flipping into a power slide. The jet's targeting system momentarily thrown off.

But it recovers fast.

A hissing sounds—the distinct screech of a missile deploying.

Then—

A blinding pillar of energy spears down from the heavens. As if God has come...but it's my invention. My strike protocol. A beam of pure destruction. The Guardian satellite fires an orbital laser.

The concentrated light obliterates the jet mid-air, vaporizing it on impact. What's left of the craft explodes, the remains of its burning fuselage spiraling toward the earth.

Madi screams as the wreckage downfalls onto the rolling mountains of California, lighting up the night sky in a hellish inferno. The shockwave rocks the highway. I slow the bike, my breath shallow, my pulse deafening.

The last remnants of the jet smolder, flickering embers. Raining flames.

I remove my helmet, dragging a hand through my sweat-damp hair, staring at the flaming craft. My teeth grit.