He knewbetterthan this. Better than stupid jests and unseemly fantasies. Bo, crowned in leaves. Green, of course, not the autumnal colors the man had been admiring. But it all became difficult to remember with Bo nearby.
“You and Declan get shit sorted?”
“In a manner of speaking. He’ll act as witness, should you still wish to stand as Talia’s guardian.” Everil studied the trees, as if they might start speaking after all. “He also made it clear that I have behaved foolishly toward you. If you’ll allow me, I’ll attempt to do better.”
Bo’s gaze was skeptical, and whatever brief relief there’d been between them turned into a sour spike of unease, like unsweetened lemonade. “Am I like the ex?”
The question left Everil at sea, unsure of what he might have done or said to inspire the asking. He took half a step forward, only the grip he maintained on his own wrist keeping him from reaching for the man.
“Pardon?”
“Like, to you. ’cause you– I know you like me enough to be worried about me dying. But you want to be here.” Bo gestured vaguely at Everil, then to his side. “Except you don’t. And I’m a stranger, I get it. I just, fuck, I don’t know. We do this, stay bonded, would that make me like him? A bitter existence and fucking everything else you said.”
Everil stared, overwhelmed by the sudden outpouring of words and emotions. How had Bo gotten it so wrong?
Well, that had a clear answer. Explanations had never been Everil’s gift. This wouldn’t do. He had to correct Bo’s misapprehensions. Somehow.
“Bo, the only way you and Nimai are alike is your unusual affinity for me. I would say that I couldn’t imagine anyone less like him, but Declan would be hurt not to make the top of the list.” His grip tightened further, vicelike and white-knuckled. This would be so much easier without the intolerable urge to pet the man. “You presume Nimai is my ex, and you happen to be correct in that. Bonds are– It’s easy to mistake intensity of one kind for another. You aren’t like Nimai. But if I were to use the bond between us to manipulate the situation, I would be.”
“He’s a prick,” Bo replied, voice flat. The words came paired with an unexpected wave of anger. Molten honey. “And the absolute fucking worst.”
“Nimai is a fae. We are not, by and large, known for our honesty and kindness. Sometimes, I suspect the soul rots with age.”
Bo ran his hand through his hair and left it resting on the back of his own neck. Everil’s fingers itched to be the ones doing the touching.
“Right. Fuck. Right.” Bo heaved a sigh, his head tipped back against his hand, while his gaze remained on Everil. “Not mad at you. That wasn’t fucking at you. Look, I’m not saying, ‘Everil, why won’t you fuck me,’ okay? Or expecting that, despite the, uh, hand thing, when we first bonded.”
“Touch isn’t unusual with new bonds,” Everil said, hoping to sound reassuring.
Bo nodded, distracted, but kept talking as if Everil hadn’t interrupted. “Maybe something like: Everil, if you are comfortable with it, will you please come the fuck over hereand try some non-groping, no-fucking-intended physical contact, maybe evencuddlingbecause, no matter what the reason, we both want to and not doing so really sucks.’ Does that work?“ Bo paused and added, “Also, I’m really forward when I want to fuck, and bossy in general, so don’t worry, you don’t have to try and puzzle out what I mean. I tend to just fucking say it. I will absolutely punch you in the face if you try to get handsy or manipulate the situation, and I amverygood at spotting manipulation tactics.”
Bo did have a way with words, and a way of leaving Everil without them. At least, one couldn’t say he didn’t get the point across. Should he explain that he hadn’t thought Bo was inviting sex? Or would that come across as an attempt to press in that direction? Soulbonds were not definitionally intimate, but it wasn’t unusual for a fresh bond to be celebrated with … consummation.
Apparently, he’d left it too long, because Bo dropped his hand and shrugged, “With zero fucking hard feelings if the answer is no.”
The man reallywasclear as to his desires. Bossy. Everil’s lips twitched upward, if only slightly. A smile gone before it fully formed.
“I can’t say I have much experience with cuddling. But if you wish it, I’m not opposed to ‘non-groping, no-fucking-intended physical contact,’ as you put it.” Indeed, he hurt with the effort of keeping his distance, wrist aching from the force of his grip as he let his hands fall to his sides.
“Well shit, look at you. Not even a full day and you’re already turning into a foulmouthed son of a birch.”
“I believe you’re thinking of dryads. I’m a kelpie.”
“I’ll take river curses over revenge tree transmutation any day, thanks.”
Everil might almost have laughed, but Bo was close, and he didn’t know what he was meant todo.He wavered backward, then stilled.
“It’s not my intention to push you away,” he murmured. “But human mores are different, and I’m not particularly conversant in the rules.”
And Bo, Bo grinned at him as he leaned in, his fingers hooking around Everil’s recently abused wrist. The brush of skin over skin. The cool sweetness of honey and orange, easing the parched, hollow thirst of the past nine days. Everil licked his lips and swallowed, grateful for the control that kept him from sighing and leaning in.
“Time for a crash course in possible cuddling, because that’s fucking tragic.” Bo tugged lightly on Everil’s wrist. “Alright, come here. We’re going to awkwardly lean together and talk about how foolish you were, now that I know I’ll not be a prick by any other name.”
“Try not to raise your expectations too high.” Everil followed the subtle pressure of Bo’s grip, stepping closer. “Until Talia arrived last week, it’d been decades since I so much as shook someone’s hand.”
“Fuckingtragic,” Bo repeated, leaning in on an exhale. His forehead found Everil’s shoulder and rested there. His breath was warm through Everil’s shirt, fingers rough where they held him. “That why you grab your wrist? I’d‘ve gone fucking batshit if it were decades.”
The ache and hollowness faded, vanilla and citrus overwhelming the memory of warming spices. Everil nearly trembled with relief, wanting nothing more than to curl in closer. Instead, he went rigid with the effort of stillness. An effort that failed, as he bowed his head, resting his cheek against Bo’s hair.
