Patrick rubbed at the tender red line burned into his left palm. His muscles kept cramping, and it didn’t feel like it was starting to heal, even with the potion Nadine had poured down his throat at the WSA before they were given their marching orders. He stopped only when Jono reached over to pull his hands apart.
“When did this happen?” Jono asked.
“Before the fight started at Smithfield Market.” Patrick stretched out his fingers, frowning down at the angry-looking skin. “I met one of the Fates while we were walking around viewing the items up for sale.”
Spencer straightened up on the couch, staring at him. “Is that where you went when I turned around and you weren’t with us?”
“You couldn’t have mentioned thissooner?” Nadine said exasperatedly before downing her entire mimosa.
“When? Srecha manipulated everyone around me during the auction, I couldn’t exactly talk about her while we were there, and we’ve been stuck defending ourselves to the WSA. I couldn’t risk anyone knowing,” Patrick said, trying not to feel defensive about his choices. “And it's not something Lucien needs to know.”
Jono wrapped an arm around his shoulders, tugging him closer. Patrick leaned into his warmth. “What did the Fates have to say this time?”
“Srecha talked about being remembered. Called this her blessing.” Patrick lifted his hand so everyone could see the red mark there. “Your guess is as good as mine about what she really meant by that.”
Nadine pursed her lips. “The gods have given you enough cryptic gifts, don’t you think?”
“I’d give the fucking thingbackif I could and it didn’t mean chopping off my hand. My dagger and the Greek coins were enough.”
“What about me?” Jono asked lightly, rubbing his hand up and down Patrick’s arm.
“What about you?” Patrick turned his head to stare at Jono, raising an eyebrow. “You aren’t going anywhere. I’ll give you up over my dead body.”
Spencer winced. “We’re fighting a necromancer. Let’s not tempt the gods.”
“Too late,” Wade said. “Patrick does that all the time.”
“Eat your snacks,” Patrick told him.
“I want French snacks. I saw little colored cookies with cream like an Oreo on the way out of the airport. I want some of those.”
Jono snorted. “I’ll take your stomach for a walk in a bit. Let’s get Pat and Nadine out the door first.”
Patrick groaned, not really wanting to move. “I hate suits.”
Nadine pushed herself to her feet, running her fingers through her hair. “We do need to get going. I’ll leave the silence ward up. Jono, let me give you my spare set of keys.”
Patrick left Jono’s side even though he really didn’t want to. He managed to get to his feet, but that was as far as he went. Jono grabbed his wrist, keeping him in one spot. Patrick turned to look at him.
“Be safe,” Jono said, bringing Patrick’s hand to his lips to kiss his own sort of blessing over the one already burned into his skin. “I love you.”
Patrick framed Jono’s face with his fingers. “I’ll come back.”
He could feel Jono’s smile against his palm, those wolf-bright eyes looking up at him. “I know.”
It was a promise Patrick intended to always keep, no matter what.
He left the living room for the guest bedroom, getting dressed in his suit in record time. Patrick was in the middle of looping his tie around his neck when Jono entered the bedroom, letting the door click shut quietly behind him.
“Going to feed Wade?” Patrick asked.
Jono reached for the tie, sliding it out of Patrick’s hand. He turned so Jono had room to work with, enjoying the feel of Jono’s hands brushing against his body.
“We’ll feed him. Sage is communicating with the Paris god pack’s dire. We’ll have to meet with them, and Sage thinks they’ll want to meet today,” Jono said, eyes on the silk he was deftly knotting around Patrick’s throat.
Patrick bit his lip as Jono straightened his collar. “I should be there for that meeting.”
Jono’s gaze flickered up to meet his. “You need to focus on the government side of the mission.”
