Jono dug his thumb against the arch of Patrick’s right foot, feeling the muscle there twitch from the pressure. Patrick had left the Eiffel Tower limping, but someone at the ministry had healed whatever had been wrong with his ankle.
“You haven’t eaten much at all lately.”
Patrick blinked, those green eyes finally looking at him. “I eat.”
“Wade has finished off your plate for every meal you’ve taken with us.”
“Everything tastes like ash.” Patrick lifted a hand to stare at his fingers. “Everythingfeelslike ash.”
Jono sighed, letting go of Patrick’s foot in favor of putting his knee on the bed so he could undo Patrick’s belt. “You keep saying that.”
Patrick dropped his hand to his chest, fingers slipping between two buttons of his dress shirt to touch scar tissue. “Because it’s true.”
“Why?”
Patrick drew in a breath that sounded like hissing air, but didn’t speak. Jono grabbed his hands and pulled him into a sitting position. Patrick didn’t fight him, sitting quietly while Jono removed his suit jacket, undid his tie, and unbuttoned his dress shirt. He tossed everything aside, knowing Patrick wouldn’t care about wrinkles.
Jono ran his hands over lightly freckled shoulders, fingers brushing over the top of the scars bisecting Patrick’s chest. His heartbeat wasn’t as steady as his breathing.
“Tell me,” Jono urged quietly.
Patrick opened his mouth, then closed it, still not speaking. Jono waited him out, and it took long enough he managed to rid Patrick of his pants and underwear. Jono, still dressed, crawled on top of Patrick’s naked body, straddling him. He leaned down for a kiss, drawing the words out with a gentle touch of his lips.
“I keep getting flashes of a desert,” Patrick said, not staring at Jono, butthroughhim, at something only he could see. “But they don’t feel like my memories.”
“Cairo?” Jono asked, kissing the corner of his mouth.
“No.” Patrick drew in a breath, finally focusing on Jono. “Maybe.”
Jono blinked down at him, propping himself up on one elbow. He trailed the fingers of his other hand down Patrick’s chest, tracing the scars there. “You’ve had nightmares every night since summer solstice.”
Every time he’d woken up thrashing, breathing hard, never seeing Jono until seconds later, it made Jono want to dream it all for him, to spare him whatever horrors lived in his mind.
Patrick swallowed, the sound a soft click in his throat. “The staff…it wanted something from me in exchange for holding it.”
Jono reached for Patrick’s left hand, running fingers over healed, smooth skin, the burn there gone since breaking off a piece of the staff. “Srecha’s blessing?”
“Her blessing was a conduit. The staff would’ve torn me apart without it. Without you.”
Jono started to kiss his way down Patrick’s throat, following the beat of his pulse to his heart. “Spencer says the soulbond is permanent now.”
“I know.”
He didn’t sound angry about that news, or surprised. Jono nipped his teeth at Patrick’s left nipple, enticing a soft gasp from him. “I told him you wouldn’t mind.”
“I don’t.”
“Good. Neither do I.” Jono drifted lower, kissing his way down Patrick’s body one centimeter at a time. “You’re stuck with me.”
“You have it backward.”
“Shut your gob and let me make you feel better.”
Patrick huffed out a laugh, some of the stress bleeding from his scent. “Okay.”
Jono slid off the bed, letting his knees hit the floor. He tugged Patrick closer until his legs hung over Jono’s shoulders, heels digging into his back. Patrick propped himself up on his elbows, staring at Jono with a heated look in his eyes. Jono never looked away when he ducked his head to lick a slow stripe up Patrick’s cock.
Patrick’s breath hitched in his throat, heartbeat picking up out of pleasure rather than the lingering fear of the unknown. The change in his scent was subtle, but growing, and Jono preferred passion over pain any day.
