“Careless again?” Seren asks, breathless.
“I dropped it on purpose that time.” Nevander twists a lock of Seren’s hair around his finger. “But you didn’t.”
The lock of hair is blue. Seren’s human glamour has fallen, and he’s exactly who he should be. By the murmuring creek,between the cottage and the autumn woods, not everything is fixed, but not everything is broken either.
“I trust you’ll help me practice concentration.” Seren presses a kiss to Nevander’s leather-clad palm. “Take me home, my guardian.”
Nevander’s eyes flash. “With pleasure, my king.”
39
An Anchor and a Storm
Anhourlater,Seren’sfoot catches on the balcony railing. He fumbles the landing. Blame the clumsiness of new wings, or the turmoil of farewell, or Seren’s selfish desire to fall—so he can be caught.
Nevander’s already landed, wings tucked out of the way, to steady Seren by the waist.
Their kiss is an anchor and a storm. Seren’s lower back hits the railing. His wings tremble in the open air as Nevander presses against him. Seren seizes Nevander’s hair, tangling them even closer. Honeysuckle sweetens every breath they share.
Slowly, with distracted effort, Seren’s wings vanish. He still doesn’t have enough control over them for indoor use, especially today. He’s held his composure on the journey back from Wymond, but now he feels like a pane of glass.Riddled with fractures but still balanced precariously in his frame.
He needs a safe place to shatter.
Nevander nuzzles Seren’s jaw. “Have you any plans before nightfall?”
Nightfall is still hours away. That’s promising. “What does my guardian advise?”
“Your guardian advises you to take an hour off.” Nevander kisses Seren’s earlobe, sparking a cascade of sensation. “Or three.”
His words are both invitation and permission.
Seren arches between railing and armor, leaning back to meet Nevander’s blue-green gaze. “Unless you release me early,” Seren says, starting with the emergency escape they agreed on, “I will obey you for the next three hours.”
The promise settles around his limbs, a welcome chain.
Nevander’s smile rivals the sun. “Hold the railing, my king, and close your eyes.”
Seren moves with greater enthusiasm than the promise requires. He grips the railing tight enough to imprint the woodgrain in his palms. Closing his eyes heightens every other sensation as Nevander tugs at his clothing. Undressing or teasing. No magical buttons today. Each buckle must be unbuckled. Each lace must be unlaced.
“Is anyone below?” Seren asks as his shirt falls open, even though he already knows the answer. He wants to hear it out loud.
Warm lips brush his ribs. “Nobody will see you like this but me.”
Possessiveness wraps around Seren like a shield. His grip on the railing tightens. “Good.”
Eyes closed, he can’t predict Nevander’s next tender touch. His shirtsleeves pool around his wrists. He balances on one foot, then the other, as Nevander removes his shoes. By the time his trousers hang unlaced from his hipbones, he should be trembling and mindless with arousal. That’s how this usually works.
But today, Seren’s thoughts chorus too loudly. His childhood bedroom haunts the darkness. Seren’s still waiting for bliss when Nevander says, “Let go of the railing.”
“Do I open my eyes?” Seren asks from the tangled dark.
Nevander exhales, stirring Seren’s eyelashes. “You may, if you want.”
And he whisks Seren off his feet.
Seren squeaks, eyes fluttering open. His legs hook instinctively around Nevander’s hips. Normally he would revel in the easy way Nevander carries him inside. The balcony door swings open, and the comfort of Seren’s bedchamber awaits.Theirbedchamber, now, complete with an armor stand beside the bed. It used to live in the new second closet, until they decided it was too far away.
This space and this moment should be theirs to share. But Nevander’s last words linger, unsettling. Seren doesn’t want ambiguity today.