Bo needed Ever to fucking care outside of his own hurt feelings. To do anything except embody Bo’s every intrusive thought while doingnothing.
“Bo, this is how I can protect you.” And still, he looked at the goddamn floor. “Not from pain, but what he would intend for you. I know it’s selfish. But I can’t bear to be the reason you’re lost.”
Ever’d fucked him on an altar, Bo broken and vulnerable, and talked about adoring him. About obligations and how he’d not give in to them because he wanted Bo.
The memory tasted like acid and oil-slick shame. Not snowmelt.
“You know what’s going to fucking happen? If, and it’s a big fuckingif, you decide I’m worth the impropriety and constant rockslide of shame, and come find me in three years, Nimai’s just going to swoop back in with another threat. Another goddamn promise.”Trampled grass, ripped up from careless boots, hammered by rain until flat and broken.Spat words that stung like his eyes, and Ever wouldn’t fuckinglook at him. “Especially if he said he’d not hurt ‘Oberon,’ which I’m betting he did. Bet you didn’t tell him otherwise, either. Maybe he’ll say it doesn’t fucking count.”
Ever didn’t speak. He stayed silent and still like healwaysdid. With Nimai. With the Council. Every fucking time.
No protest. No promise he still wanted Bo.
“My money’s on you deciding it’s not so fucking bad, though.” So fucking ugly. Bo’s mouth just kept running. “If it’s not worse than last time. If he gives you something proper and tells you you’re doing alright. Not worth it to fight for a random human you only had for three days, one you didn’t evenwant. Not if the fight’s something you can’t fucking hit. Take the path of least fucking resistance, and it’stolerable.”
“This is all I have.” The words just a breath of shaking sound. “You’re worth everything.”
They sounded so fucking sweet, trembling and only audible because of the stark nothingness of the room.
Bo stared at Ever’s downturned face, the spill of black hair and brown twigs. War prizes.
Logically, Bo knew Ever couldn’t guess what he needed. He knew that Ever didn’t defend himself unless Bo gave him space and asked him. That maybe he’d not think he should say more than ‘I’m leaving you for Nimai; have fun in your realm.’ Bo’s realm, like Faerie hadn’t claimed him.
“No, I’m not.” Bo’s voice was raw with hurt, and his eyes blurred as he struggled not to say something shitty. Like, “Don’t keep Nimai waiting, Everil.”
He kept his mouth shut for once.
Ever glanced up, and Bo caught a brief glimpse of those gray eyes before he was gone. A wall that hadn’t been there before, was. White as the others, and Bo on his own again.
Bo scrubbed hard at his eyes, trying to breathe something that wasn’t the memory of stale, dusty air and molding cardboard boxes. What came out was a soft, thin noise, quieted only by his teeth catching his lower lip. Then he was on the floor, his face pressed to his knees, sobbing silently with his pursed-shut lips.
Ever’s feelings muffled again, distant, and Bo, with his fingers too tight on his elbows, left abandoned in thisfucking hell.
“It’ll be better for you both when you’re home,” a soft voice said from behind him, melodic and sad. Familiar. “Your kind aren’t meant for this world, human.”
Bo scrambled to his feet, breath caught fast as he leaned on the wall for balance. Pressed his back against it and faced her. Fiadh, the selkie in her fur cloak, watching Bo like he was the threat here.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Bo said, words hiccupping, thick. “This is the– What the fuck are you doing here?”
Fiadh looked past him, mournful and quiet. Bo didn’t turn, pressing himself harder against the cold marble.
“I said,” Bo repeated, a hard edge creeping into his still-shaking voice. “The fuck are you doing here?”
“And I said, your kind isn’t meant for this world,” Fiadh whispered, too close now. A riot of heavy auburn curls and huge, sweet eyes framed by thick lashes. Pale skin gonesilver-brown and textured. “We poison you as much as you do us, human. Fae only hurt your people, even if we care for them. Wanting him will only hurt you.”
A lullaby, that’s what she sounded like. Sad, fuckingmournful. Haunting. Bo froze, staring at her. Fiadh smiled. It matched her voice. Her eyes. Her fingers were achingly gentle on his cheek.
“I loved my husband,” she sang or whispered or cried. “He stole my pelt. I had no choice but to love him. He betrayed me. Over and over, he betrayed me.”
Bo could’ve moved if he’d tried. Her fingertips traced from temple to jaw, not holding him. Fiadh didn’t press closer, stayed just near enough to touch, no seduction in it. It was fine.
Yeah, he could move. He just needed to want to.
Fiadh really did have a beautiful voice.
“Humans were made to hurt things other than themselves, fierce hunter. They pull us, no matter what Velriks says. There’s always one with a hand on our pelts. Our love,” her thumb on his cheekbone, “damages you more than our hate, in the end. You leave us ugly inside. It’s better to forget.”
“I don’t want to forget,” Bo managed to say. He was angry at Ever, fucking furious, betrayal still bright in the bond. But forget? No.
