“I have plenty of reasons to hate you, but not that,” Lucien says, trying a smile.
Kazia blinks too quickly. “I try not to think about what he does with my magic. I know it’s not my fault, but I wish the storm had gone somewhere else that night.”
Lucien exhales. “So do I. Come here.”
He tugs Kazia even closer, and Kazia looks up, cautious but not afraid. Hope sits warily in his face, and Lucien is stunned at how easy this is. Fuck, how has nobody ever seduced this boy before?
Lucien can never let anyone else know how defenseless Kazia is against affection.
This isn’t how Lucien expected things to go. The little exercise with the collar—a desperate, wildly inappropriate ploy—was just supposed to help Kazia trust him. As a person, as a mage, as a partner in high treason. The kiss took him by complete surprise, but maybe it shouldn’t have.
Lucien’s not going to complain. He can’t believe Kazia permits him to hold his hand right now. Lucien has never felt anything like this surge of protective adoration.
But Lucien is greedy. He wants even more. “Can I kiss you?”
“Why?” Kazia glances at the door. “I mean, I suppose so. But be quick about it.”
Lucien would love to linger, but he only needs the smallest taste to leave Kazia distracted. A soft, shallow press of lips, and an extra peck to Kazia’s nose, because Lucien can’t resist. “It’s not your fault, but it’s nice that you care.”
Kazia wrinkles his nose. “I’m not nice.”
“Of course not. You’re dreadful.” Lucien tucks a strand of hair behind Kazia’s ear—
The door slams open, and the air crackles with energy.
“What the fuck are you doing?” demands Marek Stormrider from the doorway.
Lucien freezes. There’s no acceptable answer to that question.
Kazia reacts first. He turns, flipping his hair over his shoulder. “We were wondering where that horrible stench was coming from. Hello, Marek.”
From behind Marek’s bulk emerges Sei, his hair still pink and blue, though the roots have grown in. “Hi, Kazia.”
“Hi, Sei.” Kazia crosses his arms. “Could you please muzzle your barking husband?”
Marek’s hands flex at his sides. He carries only a long knife, but the air is heavy with restrained Dire magic. Lucien shifts in front of Kazia, waiting for any abrupt movement.
“Step away from Kazia,” Marek says.
Before Lucien can move, Kazia seizes his wrist. “Lucien doesn’t answer to you.”
Lucien grins and stays put. “You heard him, Stormrider. I don’t answer to you.”
Sei steps in the middle of everything. “Marek, it’s fine. Lucien has that collar on.” Sei doesn’t look thrilled about the collar. “Kazia has him under control.”
“Does he?” Marek asks, and Lucien swears silently.
Marek is far too observant of a soldier. He knows how to assess a battlefield. Sei and even Kazia probably think Marek is overreacting, but that’s just Marek’s instincts speaking true. An enemy soldier stands far too close to his younger brother. Does Lucien move differently now that the collar and earring don’t work? Some subtle distinction that makes him a threat?
Lucien can’t blame Marek, because he’s assessing Marek and Sei as threats, too. He would need to take out Marek first, relying on speed rather than raw power. One-on-one, Lucien thinks he could beat Marek, but Marek has a grail. Perhaps a feint at Sei to distract Marek, before sending the full force of his flames.
As soon as Kazia gives the word.
Marek addresses Kazia. “Tell him to do something. Make him kiss your boot again.”
Lucien doesn’t give a shit about that. If it’ll help Kazia, sure. But Kazia’s lips tighten. He looks up at Lucien, then snaps at Marek. “No. I’m wearing my nice boots today.”
Lucien doesn’t give a shit—but Kazia does, so Lucien is putting a stop to this now. “Kazia called you here for a reason. This is hard enough already. Don’t make it more difficult.”
