“Ah, Wycke.” Chynne grinned. “Your brother here”—he pointed a paw at Wycke— “bonded with him.”
Wycke and Saris shouted as one, “What?” Fucking and bonding weren’t the same things!
“While you were moaning, groaning, and damaging your hotel room nearly beyond repair, you bonded. Do you not feel the bond?”
“N… no.” Bonded? Really? Nah, it couldn’t happen. Wycke never asked, and neither had Piers, had he? “But we—”
“I know what you’re going to say, brother,” Saris snapped, “that you didn’t choose him, he didn’t choose you, and no mage spoke blessings. That’s how bonding takes place now. My tutors in Myrgren taught me that in the time when our ancestors had magic to spare, bonds were created by compatible magics. If his is compatible with yours and, well, um… you—”
“Fucked, Your Highness. I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘fucked.’”
Fucking smug cat. Wycke glared. “Mind your tongue around my sister!”
Saris glared at Chynne. Wycke instinctively took a step back. “I intended to say, ‘consummated the relationship,’” she corrected.
“That’s what I said.” Asshole feline.
An asshole feline who, until then, complained about Wycke using such language. “Um… Chynne?” Wycke ventured. “You may be old, powerful, and all, but you might not want to taunt my sister. Her temper can be quite explosive.”
“Were vows spoken?” Saris fixed Wycke with a glare promising painful consequence for the wrong answer. He shuddered.
Chynne narrowed his eyes at Wycke. Stupid cat and his stupid human-appearing expressions. “They spoke a bonding word, while their magic meshed and they were…”
“Fucking,” Saris supplied.
Wycke whipped his head toward Saris so fast his neck ached. “Saris! Language.”
Her scowl would’ve scared trolls from the hills.
Wycke shut up.
“What word?” Saris continued, glowering Wycke to silence.
“Forever.” Chynne grinned. Evil little shit.
Fuuuucccckkkk… Wycke slapped a hand over his face. “No! No! No!”
Saris yanked Wycke’s hand down while keeping her unwavering focus on the cat. “They bonded. Can this be undone?”
“Of course.”
Wycke and Saris both brightened. “Then how can we break the bond?” Wycke had no intention of living his life with a single bond mate.
“Easy.” Chynne examined the claws of one front paw. “One of you must die. But then the other usually dies shortly thereafter. Why break the bond, though? Not only is he powerful, but his bond with you amplifies both your magics and his bond to me even more so.”
“If he knew how to use magic,” Wycke grumbled. Bonded? Really? How the hell had that happened? Better sex hadn’t ended in a bond. Well, no, actually, he hadn’t had better sex. Compatible magic.
Destructive sex. If faced with an enemy, could they drop their pants and fuck their way to victory?
Chynne stood on his hind legs, rubbing his chin in a decidedly human gesture. “You can feel him, and he can feel you.”
The words brought to mind the amount of feeling Wycke and Piers accomplished. Then, a clear image of Piers formed behind Wycke’s eyelids: Piers running, horror on his face. Piers, backed against a wall, screaming.
Wycke snapped his eyes open. “He’s in trouble.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Human Realm
