“Antonio?”The sound of his name in Declan’s low, lilting rasp was already comfortable.
He’d be losing that too.
“Yeah?”He stopped pacing, though he rocked in place, fingers rubbing the nettles above his wrist.
“Will you–” Strange, but the sluagh looked uncomfortable, hands in his pockets as he spoke.“Will you stand with me?Physically?”
A knock, distant but clear.Antonio flinched.
Declan.Focus on Declan.On smoke and bone.Pointed teeth and that pleasant, sharp drag of an ink-filled needle over skin.
“Think I can manage that.”
Footsteps, growing closer.
“I have… If you’d like something to do with your hands.”A strap of leather dangled between Declan’s fingers, offered almost shyly.
Maybe Calloway wouldn’t want him if he was already wearing Declan’s collar.
The thought wasn’t fair.Anger and bitterness and nothing to do with Declan.The black leather bracelet, worn with time and studded with silver, was exactly the sort of thingDeclanwould wear.Not a mark of ownership, but a kindness from a friend.
Because, somehow, that’s what they were.
Old leather, soft with age, carrying the bonfire and lilac scent of Declan’s aura.(He’d drawn the flowers that Declan put in his head.Lilacs.Murderpunk had alilacaura.) It wasn’t iron, but it still felt good to hold.
Declan meant safety, too.
“Look– Whatever happens.”He knew better than to say thank you to a fae.But Antonio knew better than to do a lot of shit he did.“Thanks.For trying.You’ve been real.”
“My thanks, in turn, for your trust,” Declan answered his words with a faint smile, leaning in so their shoulders touched.Even now, the contact felt too good.“Real and all.”
Antonio wanted to say something else.Maybe about Declan not feeling bad when things went to shit.But Aisling’s laughter carried into the room, followed by the banshee herself.
“It’s been far too long since I’ve seen either of you,” Aisling was saying, her smile bright and too wide.“And now look at you both: Council members.”
Council members.Two of them.The pair made up opposite ends of the hot, blond, white dude scale.The first, who towered over everyone else in the room, was so conventionally handsome he looked like he’d been designed by committee.The other had glass-delicate features and long, white rabbit ears hanging down his back.A brownie and a pooka.
Antonio’d met plenty of both.
“Only until someone strangles me,” the pooka said cheerfully.“Which Teth promises will be any day now.They send their regards, by the way.Keeping up with old friends and all that.”
Aisling murmured something polite in response, already turning back to the door.
And that was the worst part.All the pleasant, easy conversation.Like it wasn’t the end of Antonio’s whole world.His life about to be traded away.Andfuck, there was Calloway, stepping into the room.Staring at him.
At fourteen, Calloway’d been beautiful.He hadn’t gotten less so.Sparkling, sky blue skin and bright, gentle eyes.Antonio used to feel sotreasuredby him.Had coveted his attention like nothing else.
His hand clenched, tight, around Declan’s leather bracelet as his breath came sharp and shallow.He locked his gaze on the sluagh’s shoulder, because if he kept accidentally meeting Calloway’s sorrowful looks he was going to throw himself out the window.
“Antonio!Summer, I’m so glad you’re safe.”Calloway’s voice was pure and sweet, like cool water.He took two quick steps forward.
“Nimai.Wyte.Calloway,” Declan said in his warm ‘talking to fae’ voice.“Be welcome.”
Calloway froze.“You–”
No need to guess whoyouwas.Not with the coil of satisfaction from Declan.
“Me,” Declan said.“I recommend bringing out your pretty manners, Calloway.”
