“I’m not agreeing to think about allowing shit until you tell me what’s going on, the conditions, and what’ll happen. No promises I’ll say ‘yes, go for it’ even after hearing youout, either.” Because this was fine, with sugar sweetness on his tongue and the familiarity of damp wood and new things to learn around him. Everil warm and solid and real, confused and not repulsed by Bo and everything that went with that. “But I’m listening.”
Listening, because what the fuck else could he do?
Chapter five
Everil
This human, this reckless,kind stranger, was going to get himself killed. And Everil, bond-drunk and satiated for the first time in much too long, was tempted to allow it. For the first time since he’d torn himself from Nimai, he feltcomplete, not ragged and ruined, aching for the lost pieces of his soul. How could he help but be tempted?
Pathetic.
Yes. Pathetic. And greedy. Already, he’d hurt Bo. By bonding to him, and by telling him the truth of what he was. He’d felt the man’s pain as his own, an old wound that Everil’s very existence awakened. Bo’s feelings were impossible to mistake. So fully felt, while Everil’s were muted through centuries of practice.
Like the bond itself, like Bo’s hand in his, those emotions were intoxicating. Even where they hurt, they beckoned, calling Everil to soothe and reassure.
Ridiculous. All Everil offered Bo was old pain and new danger. It was past time to stop indulging himself. He needed to take his hand back and fix this mess. The initial rush of the bond had begun to retreat, enough that the thought of letting go of Bo wasn’t physically painful. But the pressure of it, the desire to be skin-close, to wrap Bo in his arms and hold him safe, that had yet to leave him.
It didn’t help that Bo was similarly impacted, the man leaning close and holding onto Everil’s hand. Nor that Everil’s dizziness had been replaced by a sense of drowsy contentment, a desire to curl against the poor human and simply rest. It had been days since he’d last slept.
But none of that mattered, because Nimai was still coming. However tempting Bo might be, Everil had to break the bond. He simply needed to convince Bo of the necessityand handle the matter before midnight, lest Nimai deal with the complication himself. Everil could do this. He had to do this.
“I can explain this better with the help of my ward,” he said as Bo sipped his drink. “But the quickest version is that this bond endangers you. Whatever you might believe you know of my people, we are notsafe, Bo. We are not kind.”
He could feel Bo’s amusement and skepticism, that rough wariness that seemed so part of the man.
“The fae aren’tnice?I’m shocked.” Bo’s words were thick with sarcasm, spoken half to his mug. “I thought it was all quarters under pillows and chiming bells, not tales of absolutely fucking horrible things happening to humans for being stupid or unlucky. Like being drowned and eaten by a horse near any body of water bigger than a damn bathtub. The stories wrong?”
“Oh, I’m quite capable of drowning someone in a bathtub.” The dry rejoinder escaped Everil’s lips before he could check himself. Bo made a choking noise, and Everil suppressed a cringe. “Apologies. That was in poor taste. But if you put stock in the stories, you should understand why I’m a danger to you.”
The sound of stairs creaking played under his words; Talia had apparently tired of merely spying. She bounced into the room, taking in Bo without the least attempt at pretending confusion or surprise.
“Greetings, mortal,” she said, with a becoming little curtsy. “You have the pleasure of addressing Taliabelle Wintersmith Guardhaven the Third.” Talia started cackling before she could continue the ridiculous charade. Straightening up, she winked at Bo. “Kidding. I’m Talia. And you are my new favorite person. Everil, this fixeseverything.”
“It does not,” Everil objected. Where the girl got her optimism from, he couldn’t begin to imagine. It certainly wasn’t his mother.
“Your new favorite person has fuck all for context.” Bo grinned at Talia. “Except bathtub drowning kelpies and wards. I’m Bo. Hi.”
“Has he been talking in circles? I’ll bet he’s been talking in circles.” Talia dropped into the chair nearest the settee, tucking her legs under her. “It’s a fae thing. Answering directly is rude. And it’s CSI: Table Manners over there.”
Everil hadn’t the first idea what Talia was talking about, but that was a matter for later. For now, there was Bo, still tucked close, puzzled and amused by turns.
“I was endeavoring to explain,” Everil said. “The matter is complicated.”
“It’s really not.” Talia fixed her wide, bright eyes on Bo, expression serious for once. “So, Everil’s supposed to look after me. But Protocol, that’s like Faerie law, says he needs a soulbond to do it. It’s one of those weird, pre-convergence traditions. Don’t ask. Anyway, he used to have a soulbond. But the guy’s an asshole.”
“He’s your guardian, Talia.” Already, the words had the tired feeling of an old argument.
“No. He’s not. Bo is. Or he would be if we gave our oaths. That’s what I’m saying.” Her words were sharp with irritation, and she spared Everil a glare before looking back to Bo. “The plan was, Everil goes back to the asshole because Protocol. But now he doesn’t have to. Because you.”
“You’re forgetting the part where Nimai will kill him.” Everil shifted toward Bo as he spoke, his words level despite the urge to growl and pull the man closer. The remembered scent of blood mingled with the sweetness of Bo’s aura. Vanilla with the tang of copper.
Bo’s emotions turned, anger burning out the confusion and old pain. Everil wanted to reassure the man, to make it better, somehow. He told himself that anger was good. Anger meant he was taking it seriously.
“Do fae get fucked up about iron like in the stories?” Bo’s words were terse. He leaned back against Everil, a pleasant weight, and Everil made no effort to shift away. “What the hell do they have against single parents to make it ‘Protocol’?”
“Not in the ways you mean,” Everil answered. Best to stop whatever reckless notion the man had before they took root. “Pure iron is somewhat disruptive. Its resonance is intrusive.”
“He means it’s loud,” Talia interjected. “Like a high-pitched whine that doesn’t stop. I don’t notice so much, but I’m not a fae. It makes magic go a little weird, too. But it won’t actually hurt the asshole.”
