Jono had called Emma while Victoria dealt with Patrick’s burns, getting up to speed as best he could on what had happened during the time they’d been gone. Word had gotten out about Emma’s Tempest pack changing loyalties, which would need to be dealt with, but not right now. Jono had a voicemail from Estelle sitting on his phone that he wasn’t in the mood to listen to yet.
“Text me when you get back to work. I want to know you got there safely.”
“I will.”
Jono handed her a couple of twenties. “For the wait time of your taxi, and your ride back. You can bill me for your services later.”
“I can cover my ride.”
“You shouldn’t have to since we pulled you away from work. Please, take it.”
Victoria gave in with good grace, pocketed the cash, and left with a casual wave goodbye. Jono locked the door behind her and turned the lights off on his way back to the bedroom.
Patrick had gotten out of his boots and was sitting on the bed, staring at his mobile. A beep indicated a text had come through. Judging by Patrick’s scowl, it wasn’t one he cared for.
“Gerard?” Jono asked.
“I think you mean Cú Chulainn.”
The anger in his words, in his scent, was overridden by the sharp bitterness of betrayal that Jono could practically taste. Jono approached the bed and gently pried the mobile out of Patrick’s hand, setting it aside on the nightstand next to his dagger and the dog tags that Jono hadn’t ever seen Patrick without.
Jono touched them, the flat metal cool beneath his fingertips. “What do you want to do?”
Patrick scratched at the skin close to the edges of the bandages wrapped around his wrists and forearms. The bruises Patrick had apparently gotten from an ogre had already shrunk some, courtesy of the potion he’d taken. They’d be gone by morning, but they still looked painful.
“I want you to fuck me,” Patrick said.
While normally Jono had no qualms about a request like that, he worried about the reasoning behind it, about the way, when he kissed Patrick, it wasn’t easy at all. Patrick kissed Jono angrily, almost viciously, and Jono let him for the few seconds it took to realize what Patrick was after.
Jono tangled his fingers in Patrick’s hair, giving it a gentle tug even as he nipped at Patrick’s bottom lip. “No, love. Not like this.”
“Jono—”
“I said no. We aren’t bringing this into our bed.”
Thisbeing the burning, bristling anger and need to lash out coiled in Patrick’s body. Jono remembered that same feeling from years ago, a half-forgotten bruise in his memories when his family had kicked him out of their home in the council estate in North London after he got infected by the werevirus. He’d been a teenager back then, thrown out on the streets, nursing that feeling of betrayal and unwantedness for years.
Family, he knew, always inflicted the deepest wounds.
Jono grabbed the hem of Patrick’s T-shirt in both hands, skimming it upward. His fingers brushed over more bruises, and Jono was careful about pulling the material over Patrick’s raised arms, not letting it catch on the bandages.
He got them both undressed, leaving their clothes on the floor in favor of helping Patrick forget. Jono gently guided Patrick farther onto the bed, kissing him all the way. When Patrick would’ve wrapped his arms around Jono’s neck, he pulled them away, gently pressing Patrick’s hands down onto the mattress.
“Don’t want you to undo Victoria’s hard work,” Jono murmured, lips grazing against the shell of Patrick’s ear. “Keep them here for me and don’t move.”
Patrick flexed his fingers against Jono’s, tilting his head back. “Okay.”
The word came out grudgingly, the tightness in his body still coming from anger. Jono wasn’t about to let that continue.
Jono pressed a kiss against the pulse in Patrick’s throat, breathing in the scent of him—bitter, like it always was because of his magic, but mixed with the pack scent Jono had pressed into his skin earlier. Jono licked at the taste of him, teeth gently catching against skin when Patrick took in a deep breath, throat working as he swallowed. The soulbond thrummed between them, Jono’s awareness of it no longer blocked by fae magic. It hadn’t been broken, but being separated past the veil hadn’t been easy to compensate for.
Jono shifted down the bed, dragging his hands down Patrick’s torso as he did so. He grabbed Patrick by the hips, holding him still. Jono licked Patrick’s cock from root to tip, suckling at the crown. Patrick jerked at the touch, legs pressing against Jono’s shoulders. He wasn’t hard, not yet, but Jono knew how best to change that.
He swallowed Patrick’s cock, sucking at it hard enough to make Patrick gasp. Jono pulled back slowly, scraping his teeth carefully against warm, sensitive skin as he did so. Patrick tried to arch upward, fighting against Jono’s grip, but unable to really move. Jono pulled his mouth free, arching an eyebrow at Patrick and the hand reaching for him.
“What did I say?” Jono said.
Patrick rolled his eyes, but the faint flush that came to his cheeks had less to do with anger and more to do with arousal, which was all Jono cared about. “Don’t move my hands, but touching you isn’t going to dislodge the bandages.”
