Peterwasthinkingofthe blood eagle again.He’d not thought about it since that unpleasant business with Bernard, but it was swimming to the forefront of his mind now, and if that wasn’t a sign, he didn’t know what was.
Well, Theodore frowning at him while Peter tested the balance of this sword was one.Theodore glaring but not really wanting to turn his back on him was another.And then there’d been Theodore’s reaction when Peter had, somewhat accidentally, let slip that he was in love.With Theodore.
If he keeps thinking about it—if he thinks about it too hard—he will come to the conclusion that it was a ploy to get him to stay here while I go and help Lord Laurette rescue sweet Corvin and Michael.It’s a shame those two need all that rescuing.Should I send them an invoice?If I ruin yet another shirt, I might just send them an invoice.
It was an issue though, Theodore thinking Peter more cunning than emotionally available.If he’d researched Vikings—culturally inaccurate though the term was—he might have gleaned that monogamy was a Christian thing and something to be frowned upon muchly unless everyone freely consented to the arrangement.
Peter had always seen the appeal, though more in the serial monogamy variant—monandry, in his case.Keeping track of more than one lover and making sure they were all satisfied was too much work.Arranging inheritances or even the seating order in one’s hall could quickly turn into a nightmare, and it was a bother not worth the amount of warm skin in one’s bed.
Peter knew that all he could handle was one other.One lover and friend, one man to share his heart with and kiss each night before darkness devoured the day.And if it was Theodore, if Theodore would have him, there’d not be another after.Peter was old enough, had lived enough lifetimes to know that he wasn’t being hyperbolic about that.
None of it really mattered, but what might matter was Theodore’s perception.And the issue of the male cook.If Theodore had asked for the cock-lock clause because the threat of a male cook in what was his household, at least in Peter’s mind, had upset him, then…yes, that meant Theodore had been in doubt about Peter’s feelings, at least at the time.He’d thought Peter capable of going to some cook instead of him for his cock.
I do love him though.I gave him the severed head of his tormentor.What better way to show a man he has your heart?
The confession should have cleared all that up, but the timing had been poor, very poor.
Vague images of the blood eagle flashed into Peter’s mind again.He was pretty sure it would be easier to do on Fae, given they were all so tall and wide.Not that he loathed those Fae like he’d loathed Bernard, but Michael and Corvin were still dear to him.He had image files of them saved that said as much.
“You should shift now.I assume you prefer that?”Lord Laurette told Carl-Conrad.Carl-Conrad who had a couch, it seemed; a couch Theodore might be familiar with.Peter wasn’t sure what to make of that, not at all.
Theodore looked at the werewolf.“Want me to put your clothes in my bag?Uh, I should probably leave my laptop here, but I can carry your stuff in case you have to shift back in a rush.”
Peter blinked.Yes, thinking about each cut, each tear, each calculated grip past the ribs the blood eagle required was quite soothing.It made it so he wasn’t thinking of another man’s clothes in Theodore’s bag, still body-warm and smelling of Carl-Conrad.Perhaps they bonded, became friends while arranging something to do with Corvin’s bachelor party.
Peter didn’t know that was the truth, but he’d find out.He placed the sword in its scabbard on the table, took off his jacket and vest, and rolled up his shirtsleeves while watching Carl-Conrad tell Theodore he’d change in the sitting room next door, and ask whether he would please pick up the clothes once he was done.
“You seem pensive.”Laurette had snuck up on Peter.He’d rounded the table and was almost behind Peter—an assassin’s position.Peter shouldn’t have ever let him get there.
“It would be odd if I weren’t.”
Laurette sidled up to Peter’s shoulder and grinned at him.Then, in a low whisper, he said, “Don’t tell anyone, but I think this is exciting.Ah, I love that it gives me an excuse to go back to Madame Celeste’s, and honestly, it’s honeyberry season, but I can never be bothered to go to Faerie for honeyberry season, because then I’d have to get dressed and visit people and make conversation, and it would all be exhausting.”He let his voice drop to a whisper.“Especially now that I’ve discovered sweatpants.”
Peter decided to ignore the mention of the Elven lord’s pants, sweat, and other irrelevant details.“You’ll be picking honeyberries while we go rescue my employee and his fiancé?”
Peter wasn’t foolish enough to criticize the Elven lord, but he felt safe phrasing it as a question.
“Well, I was thinking I’d sneak a few after, with the excuse of a rescue mission.And possibly eat a few if we happen to pass by them.But yes, the rescuing comes first.Ah, I tell you, it’s always the rescuing.You wouldn’t believe how much I do for the prevention of the rescuing, but every now and then, there’s someone suicidal enough to think they can take someone from my city, and, well.”He tapped the sword hilt of the blade Peter had selected with a finger.His nail polish was something with sparkles and a pale purplish base.Peter liked Theodore’s nail polish much better.“You know how to use this, Mr.Viking?If they prove asinine, go for the heads, please.”
“I’m not a Viking.”
Laurette smiled at him.“Your beloved seems to like the idea though.Spirited man you plundered there.”
“He’s not plunder.”Peter’s voice was darker, but that was only because a black wolf had emerged from the next room, and at a canine glance, Theodore had gone to fetch Carl-Conrad’s clothes while the laptop Peter had set up for him was on Laurette’s table, left behind like used underwear beneath a couch, at least for the time being.
Laurette hugged Peter’s arm and leaned close.“I always thought being in love would be fun.Have you seen yourself scowl?You don’t make it look fun.I’ve been hoping for love, you know, but not the kind that would make me scowl like you do.”He shrugged, his hands moving around Peter’s bicep as he did.“Gertrude says I should get out of the house more, try speed dating, but I think she just wants to get me out of the house.Gertrude!”He let go of Peter and walked over to the Fae, who’d sat down at the table, hands folded in front of him and looking troubled.“Gertrude, let’s shorten Cloudtree’s leash to a fashion-conscious collar, please.I don’t want him to trip over it and fall.Theo!Grab that cloak, will you?”
It was maybe five more minutes of mostly Gertrude arranging things.Peter strapped the sword to his belt while Theodore fastened a dark green cloak.At least, he tried to.The clasp at his throat was giving him trouble, so Peter stepped up to help him.
“You make a dashing fairy-tale prince.May I?”Peter had an urge to kneel.
“Fine.Don’t try anything.”
“Like what?”
“Like making me feel bad or…talking.No talking.”
“Okay.I won’t say a word.”
