“Kesk said I broke you.” The regret still there, citrus gone to vinegar. But Bo reached up as he spoke, tangling his fingers in Everil’s hair.
“Kesk doesn’t know me so well as he thinks.”
Bo didn’t seem to hear him, caught in that regret. That guilt.
“It felt like it was everything I’d told myself wouldn’t happen did, and like I– Like you’d go off with Nimai, be proper, and– And not want– And I got caught up in my own hurt and was fucking terrible to you.”
Everil wanted to object. He didn’t want Bo to feel guilty. He had deserved the man’s outburst. He had been wrong. Everil was always wrong.
But…
He had believed Bo. Taken every word to heart, where they’d dug in and festered, leaked poison that turned the world gray.
Bo’s grip on Everil’s hair was sweet and steady, even as his sentences tumbled and his voice shook.
“I thought the last thing you’d remember was me saying all that shit and not telling you I forgive you and I’m sorry and I love you too.”
“You had a right to your anger. I treated you ill. But–” The words hurt. But it was a clean pain, welcome after the dull ache of hopelessness. “I’ve always been a disappointment. I’m accustomed to being so. But I … believed I could be more than that to you. And then we came to Faerie. I brought you here, knowing I was placing you in danger, because I couldn’t bear to part from you. I told myself that if I only tried, said the right words, behaved, it might be enough to protect you. But it wasn’t. Of course, it wasn’t. All I managed was to give you, also, reason to despise me. I–” He swallowed hard, took a shaking breath. “I don’t know how to handle becoming a disappointment to you.”
Bo pulled back, his fingers still tangled in Everil’s hair. Rough hands, bloodslick from the holly cuts Faerie’s crown had made, cupped Everil’s face. Warm. He was warm, and he was real, and he was looking up at Everil with such fierce, unmistakable love.
“You arenota disappointment,” Bo said, all cracked ferocity. “Never. Not to me. Not once. What happened, sure. Butneveryou. Not Ever, the person. I swear it. Faerie strike me down if I lie.”
“But I–”
“Never. I spat out what I was afraid of. You being ashamed or wanting something proper. The bullshit about least resistance. I was fucking pissed. But I shouldn’t have thrown any of that garbage at you. Not that. Notlikethat. You aren’t a disappointment.
“Ever,”Bo’s thumbs ran along Everil’s cheekbones, rough and so, so sweet. All Everil could taste was honey. “You’re arevelation.I’m sorry. I really fucking am.”
His Bo. His fierce, profane, and terrifyingly generous Bo, whom he loved and who loved him in turn.
“I’m never sure what to say to your kindnesses.” Everil turned his head against Bo’s hand, pressing his lips to the man’s palm. “But I’m grateful for them. I’ve spent too many centuries in shame. In trying, yes, to be what’s deemed proper. But you, Bo, you’re my King of Oak. My soulbond and my consort. That, I feel no shame in. And I’m coming to realize that I cannot please the world, but I can please myself. I would be yours, and keep you as mine, and find a way to fight this.”
“The world can go fuck itself,” Bo said, in a near whisper, leaning in to brush a kiss over Everil’s cheek. “Thank you for saving me, Ever. Then and now. My Holly King. Consort.” Bo relaxed in his arms, trailing kisses down to Everil’s lips. “Keep me as yours. I’ll keep youas mine. Love you. We can fucking fight this. I’m surprised Talia hasn’t locked Nimai in a closet somewhere.”
Talia. Yes. The soft brush of Bo’s lips and the song of his voice saying,“Love you,”those were feelings to get lost in later. But they couldn’t hide away, here in their grove, forever. Their ward required them, and Nimai would need to be dealt with.
“As am I. I believed the both of you to be with your family. I made a number of poor assumptions. It’s no simple act to contain a Gate.” And to harm one, well, that they would be aware of. All ofFaeriewould be aware. “They’ve either blinded her with half-truths, or they have her in the care of one of her own kind. She’s inexperienced enough that the latter would be possible.”
He felt Bo bristle, still honey-sweet but angry at the suggestion that Talia might be held somewhere. And that, too, was reason to love him. His fierce loyalty to Talia; the way he celebrated her vibrance.
“Fuckface knows where she is or who she’s with,” he muttered. “He wouldn’t just let a Gate wander. We need to get our weird, undersocialized kid back, Ever.”
“As you say.” He allowed himself the indulgence of Bo’s lips, so close to his own. How he hadmissedthis man. “Are you ready, sweet Bo? I suspect I know where to find … fuckface.”
Chapter twenty-eight
Bo
“I’m sorry,” Bo saidfor the ninth time, clutching tight to Ever’s hand. Together, in the orange grove, and Faerie not shifting them away. “I– Fuck, I want to. We need her back. I just–.”
The grove wassafe. And Faerie, it turned out, could feel that Bo didn’t like the idea of leaving.
Ever leaned in, lips soft to Bo’s hair, a kiss with the rustle of oak leaves.
“There’s no weakness in fear,” Ever said, quiet as the breeze. “I won’t leave your side, sweet Bo.”
“It’s not– He hurtsyou.” Bo’s voice broke again, goddamn it. He wasn’t a kid. “How he talks to you and twists you. I don’t trust his fucking promises.”
