It sounds like exactly what we needed.
Ward looked at Viper. “Together?”
Viper’s jaw flexed once, then he nodded and reached to wrap his fingers around the base of the horn beside Ward’s. “Together.”
He lifted it and drank. For a couple of seconds, nothing happened. Then a crackle started behind his ribs. The sensation wasn’t painful, but it sure as hell wasn’t subtle. He staggered slightly, and Viper’s arm snapped out to steady him. Ward clutched his hand in return, grounding them both.
Fionn stepped forward, and there was something almost reverent in the way he gazed at them. “Your power recognizes the vow,” he said softly. “The oath beneath your skin is waking.”
“Oath?” Ward managed, though his throat was dry and his vision blurred at the edges.
“You are Oathkeeper.” Fionn’s tone was full of ancient wisdom. “One of the oldest of our gifts. You will hold the sacred word, anchor those who wield it, and call for truth to show itself when it hides in shadow.”
That sounds like an awful lot of responsibility to this place and these people for someone who wants to go home at some point.
Ward blinked, confused. “I didn’t ask for this.”
“No one ever does,” Oisín murmured. “But Tír na nÓg only awakens what’s already inside you.”
Ward’s skin felt tight, like it didn’t quite fit anymore. The spiraling mating mark along his arm glowed with a shimmering light. Lines of silver and pale blue crept over the top of his shoulder. He could almost see the pulse of them matching Viper’s heartbeat beside him. Or maybe it was his own.
“This is a lot,” he whispered.
“It always is,” Fionn replied. “Which is why you must bind your strength together. Magic born of heart and soul is volatile. It must be steadied.” He turned and took a carved horn from one of the priestesses. “Drink this. It will anchor the mate bond,” he said, extending the horn, “and deepen what has already begun. But it will also amplify the truth of it. This drink will not lie, nor allow you to.”
Viper narrowed his eyes. “What’s in it?”
Fionn smiled faintly. “Roots and blossoms. Fire and star. It’s not poison, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“It’s an aphrodisiac, isn’t it?” Ward asked, deadpan.
Oisín’s mouth twitched. “In part. It reveals the emotional resonance between bonded souls.”
“So yes.” Ward sighed. “It’s magically charged horny tea.”
“Only if you are already inclined in that direction.” Fionn’s eyes sparkled. “The mating bond knows what it wants. This will simply let it speak, if you are brave enough to listen.”
Just like with the last drink, Viper reached out, took the horn, and studied it like it might bite. Then, slowly, he turned to Ward and lifted a brow. “We do this together?”
Well, freaking hello, déjà vu.
Ward hesitated, his fingers brushing the edge of the vessel. The magic sang through it, luring and promising. He blew out a slow breath and nodded once. “Together.”
The second the cup touched his lips, Ward knew he’d fucked up. The taste wasn’t unpleasant; it was earthy and floral with a smoky sweetness that lingered on the back of his tongue. Butit burned low and slow through his chest like a fuse winding toward something dangerous. Something inevitable. He looked up at Viper, who’d already drained his cup like the hardened operator he was. For a heartbeat, their gazes locked across the rim of their cups, then Viper blinked, his eyes dilated, and he swayed forward half a step as if the earth beneath his boots had tilted sideways.
Ward’s heart stuttered. “Uh... Viper?”
A soft exhale escaped the other man, and then his jaw clenched. His nostrils flared, and he rolled his shoulders. “What the hell was in that?” Viper’s voice was low, hoarse, and almost ragged. “I feel like I could bench press a goddamn horse—or fuck one.”
“Hopefully not the second option,” Ward muttered, struggling to keep his breathing even as the same heat crawled up his spine and spread like wildfire through every inch of his skin. His mate mark burned hot and bright, and he dragged a hand across his shoulder where it brushed against his neck, trying to calm the storm it kicked up.
Fionn, the absolute bastard, smiled knowingly from across the circle. “It is a sacred root. It does not harm. It awakens what lies waiting buried deep.”
Ward shot him a murderous glare. “Is one of those buried things my self-control?”
Oisín’s mouth twitched like he was biting back a laugh. “Tír na nÓg honors the bond between Grá Croí. What you feel is not a trick—it’s the truth that has been magnified and unleashed.”
We’re so fucked.
