“I suspect it will last as long as I keep a hold of it.Perhaps I can tack it in place, like a glamour.It’s not a one-and-done bit of work, like creating a bond.Would you mind if I kept the connection?”
“Hell no.Told you, I like having you here.”
Thank the stars.Declanwouldneed to keep the connection.The slightest ease of focus turned the pressure of iron from a distant thing to a steady resounding pound that only escalated with each slip along the anti-magic.Declan clung all the fiercer to drown out the drumbeats again, found his way to full silence.
The brush of his wings against the seat drew Declan up short.The fingertip trailing over Antonio’s knuckles drew a faint red line.Only a second, and he eased his grip, returning to where the iron still whispered but didn’t scream.
“It appears it goes both ways.Too much, no magic.Interesting.”Declan did as he said he would, tacking the anti-magic into place.As easy as his glamour.
“Shit,” Antonio said, his words carrying the curl of scorched leather under an unyielding sun.“Not much use for the fight then, huh?”
“Perhaps not for the duel.But it does mean I can sprawl about your shop and get up to all sorts of filthy trouble.”Declan smiled, all his teeth on display.“I plan to enjoy this gift of iron, Antonio, for as long as you wish me to keep it.”
There was no point in either of them bringing up that it might not be long enjoyed, should their bond end in an abrupt and bloody manner.No reason to admit possible defeat before faced with it in the moment.
So long as they didn’t speak of it, they would have Antonio’s rough grin and Declan’s trailing fingers.Enjoy the iron, their mingled laughter, this stolen time before it all came to a head.
Declan prayed to the vast blank darkness of the voids that there would be an after.
Antonio’sprobationofficer,Clara,arrived twenty minutes earlier than scheduled.Typical, according to Antonio.Declan preferred to useinconsiderateandirritating.
She was slight and put together, just that right kind of condescending to fit neatly into what Declan remembered of cops.They came in different shades, and he knew her sort.Not quite power hungry, but they enjoyed the control.
She seemed to enjoy having the authority to pepper Declan with questions, too.The new boyfriend with his adornments and artfully shredded clothing, looking for all the world the bringer of filthy trouble.
He could tell his answers didn’t impress her, Declan being little more than a man still living with his mother who happened to research old books for a living.
“Have you had any run-ins with law enforcement?”Clara asked.
“Shagged a cop once,” was Declan’s smiling reply.“Does that count?”
It did not.
The look on her face gratified him almost as much as the warm sunburst of amusement through the bond as Antonio trembled in his attempt not to laugh.
After she left, Antonio pinned Declan’s hips to the side of his car and sucked him off.The bastard hummed during.
Da da da.
Interrogationswereapparentlyinseason.Angela called the next morning to invite herself and Michael over to dinner at Antonio’s flat.Antonio stayed in the garage, wrist-deep in a car (“A quick job,” and he had looked sopleased.) while Declan wandered the nearby shops.
Declan rather liked being out and about with humans.They never changed.Wary, guarded gazes turned to an odd kind of relief when they heard him speak.One of thoseah, just an odd foreign guy, not one ofourboys gone funnylooks.Then, they were perfectly polite.
He’d returned with food to stock Antonio’s bare kitchen and a bit of concern at how the man might react.Humans were as funny about money as fae were about favors.He hadn’t expected Antonio’s grateful smile, or to be kissed breathless when he explained that Hyacinth had taught him long ago not to pay with glamoured money.Declan wasn’t about to complain.
All in all, the day was grand.As was stealing handfuls of the man’s ass while he cooked, leaning against him and breathing in the rich scents of chicken, garlic, and onion.
The problem came when the cooking was done and Declan was faced with his least favorite members of Antonio’s family over a plate of galinhada.
Angela’s default Declan expression was a pressed-lipped smile that didn’t meet her eyes when she acknowledged him at all.Michael had the shitehawk smug look about him.Neither of them commented on the bruises Declan had carefully added to his glamour.
Talia would need to come the next time they had an Angela-and-Michael dinner.She’d love the soul-gratingly awkward experience of four people eating in near silence, the probing stares aimed at Antonio and sideways glances for Declan.
“Which end of the spectrum do you fall on the Jeep debate, Angela?”Declan asked.“Team Claudia or Team Antonio?Somewhere in the middle?”
“I’m on team ‘cars that break seem like a win for a mechanic.’”
Team ‘none of your business’it was.
