An Embrace of Citrus & Snow (Fallen for a Fae #1)

14. Bo

Chapter fourteen

Bo

Bo’d known that Ever’s melodic, quiet voice would sound perfect wrapped around his name, edged with want and warmth. And fuck if he hadn’t been right. The black moonlit pools of Ever’s eyes closed with Bo’s direction to hands, knees, lips parting to whisper his name.

Everil, with his true face on. Rivers threaded over the long golden lines of his body. Accents of finer filigree looking for all the fucking world like small, perfect scales.

Suited him, like those eyes, darkness and moonlight, and the wickedly sharp, serrated teeth did. Like the taste of him under Bo’s tongue, tracing over a shimmering stream along his side. Everil’s entire body trembled as he shifted to hands and knees, so readily following Bo’s direction.

Bo knelt next to him, one knee between parted thighs, hands tracing silver lines on tan skin. Unhurried, not pressing his cock to Ever’s thigh like an over-eager teenager. He let himself indulge, his reward for taking the time to loot his bag without ripping the fucking thing apart and for getting them both naked, clothes carelessly discarded or not.

“Bo?” The question was almost lost behind the dark tumble of half-brushed hair. Something there, under Bo’s name. A thread of wariness.

“Yeah?” Bo pressed the word into Ever’s hip with his teeth, punctuated it with his hand tracing the curve of that amazing ass. Squeezed, when Ever didn’t say anything.

“I–” Ever cut himself off with a soft gasp, rocking back into his touch.

Fuck. Right. Questions.

Bo dragged his hand up from Ever’s hip to his back, leaning in and close as he did. Stretched himself out over the length of him, one hand in dark hair, the other on the bed for balance .

Everil took a shaking breath beneath him. Still poised to bolt, that sense of waiting through their bond, fear muddled in with need. Fuck, Bo hadn’t seen how tense he was until that moment. Shit.

“Got it. I was too far away.” Bo kissed his shoulder and, yeah, yes, fuck, pressed his cock against Ever’s thigh, gave in to that. “That’s what you wanted. Me close.”

Ever breathed “Yes,” throat and teeth exposed, head to the side for Bo’s mouth. His own, red and wet, unbloodied, begging for a kiss only someone willing to follow a kelpie to the river would steal. “I don’t mean to– Please, Bo. Let me feel you?”

The warm security of their bond ebbed, melted towards caution at the ask. And maybe a day ago, Bo would have bristled, read it as a lack of trust in him. Maybe asked Ever if he was sure.

Today, Bo took advantage of that bared throat, kissing the river from Ever’s skin. Murmured, “I like how we both say ‘let.’ Like we’re doing each other a favor instead of both just getting what we want.” Want and want and want . Bo shivered with it, thumbing open the lube. Kept running his fucking mouth. “Like it’s not me needing you.”

Bo fucking burned with it. And Ever, straining back against Bo, toward the slick fingers trailing along the inside of his thigh, burned along with him. The bond blazed with it, selfish and greedy and unseemly.

“Need you,” Ever echoed. Voice shaking just as he was, broken by the hitch of his breath. “All you’ll allow me. Please? Let me be yours?”

Yours , Ever said, and the river dragged Bo down.

Ever’s magic, his soul , everything the kelpie kept tucked away inside, poured into Bo. All the things he thought couldn’t be shared bled through anyway, swallowing Bo with desperate, grabbing hunger. Possibility and potential, life and death and the same ruthless play Bo’d seen from the stallion on the riverbank.

Bo heard his own wrenching, ravenous gasp as if from a distance. Yours , all twisted up in magic and power and desire, that fucking need the way a livewire needed to be grounded, reached for it and to hell with anything in its path. Crackling, bright on the skin, and, god damn , too much.

Not enough. Never fucking enough.

Bo’s tongue burned with the taste of snow, of death and new growth and sex, dark and rich and clean .

“ Fuck .” The word ripped free, as raw and starving as the clutching waters. Bo pressed his hand over Ever’s, fingers threaded together. He laughed, breathless, teeth to a freckled shoulder, slick touch over shivering skin. “Yeah, fuck. Yes, Ever. Mine.”

His, and Bo took him, slick fingers into tight heat. Ever, whimpering, pushing back until their bond fucking trembled, Bo’s name on his lips. Bo’s name and “ Yours .”

Shredded. Both of their voices just fucking shredded . And Bo, fuck, Bo slid back, fingers sunk deep, in and in and in, kissing winter from the arch of Everil’s spine, dragging another low cry from the gorgeous fucking kelpie. Bo groaned, base through gritted teeth, the sound of a man throwing himself into the rapids with every belief he’d be fine.

“Fuck yeah, you are.” Bo sat back on his knees, felt a flicker of hesitance from Ever as he did. Insecurity, and fuck no, he’d not make Ever guess where they were with this. He tangled a hand into ungodly soft dark hair, felt the hesitance ease. “Fuck back on my fingers, Ever. Give me the prettiest fucking sight of my life. Follow this.”

Bo tugged at Ever’s hair, a gentle nudge of pressure that had the kelpie rocking back without question. Gorgeous, taking Bo’s driving fingers. Made Bo greedy, had him aching for more, for kisses that tasted of oranges on shaved ice: bright rinds and crisp cold. Lying against the grass, wind chilling their faces as the river played nearby. Safety in a place of secrets, tasting something warm, like vanilla and honey.

“This goes both ways,” Bo said, soft and raw. Back and in and deeper, another finger in the next thrust, rewarded with a quiet, thin keen. “Yours and mine.”

“Mine?” The word little more than breath, half wonder, half question. Like Ever could taste it and savored the way it ran down his throat. So fucking sweet with it, whimpering and wanting with the press of Bo’s hand, the twist and curl. “ Mine .”

If there was something more perfect than mine filling the air in Ever’s melodic, wrecked voice, while he fucked himself on Bo’s fingers with his head thrown back, Bo couldn’t imagine it. (Though he’d have it soon. Bo had zero fucking doubts about that.)

“Yours.” Bo sounded as drunk as he felt, the world hazy in the wake of Ever’s low moans. With the bliss floating through their bond, Ever’s melting ease and heady joy.

And Ever, fuck, Ever kept following Bo’s soft pulls and rhythmic strokes, taking more (more and more, that greedy kelpie), and–

“ Bo .” Satisfyingly shameless, unfettered want. Ever tight, then tighter around Bo’s fingers, half twisting as if to bite his shoulder again. Razor teeth bared, but not digging in. Just eyes little more than black slits before his head fell forward again. “Please, Bo? I need you. Your Ever. Please, show me. I’ll– Anything. Please .”

“Anything,” Bo promised, the only thing he could say with Ever daring to ask. Trusting Bo and laying himself bare, saying please like he needed to earn it. “Both fucking ways with that. Give you anything. My Ever. I’ve got you.”

“Your kelpie,” Ever gasped, swallowing a whimper as Bo pulled his fingers free.

“Yeah.” Bo had enough coordination to right himself to his knees behind Ever. Another click of the lube, for all that Bo nearly fucking dropped it, unable to look away from Ever, shivering under him. “ Yes , Ever. My kelpie. Your Bo. Need it as much as you do.”

“Please, Bo.” Liquid voiced Ever, grasping as the waters themselves. He looked over his shoulder, eyes heavy lidded, lips parted to reveal those wickedly sharp teeth. “I need … more. More of you.”

Yeah. More. They could do more. More than Bo’s hand, impatient on his own cock with quick, unsatisfying strokes.

“More of everything,” Bo said on a shaking breath. And finally, finally took what they both wanted. Slow pressure yielded in time with Ever’s unsteady murmur of pleasure.

Bo watched the slide of slick heat into slick heat with no little hunger. Ever trembled, his breath coming in small, sharp gasps. Too fucking tempting, and Bo let his hand wander from Ever’s hip to where their bodies locked together, thumb gentle over shivering skin.

Ever, beautiful and needing. Begging . Bo pressed the tip of his thumb just inside of Ever with the gradual press of his cock. Just that little extra push, rewarded with Ever’s soft, choked cry.

“ Ever , fuck.” Little more than a groan, those words. Bo pulled his hand back, firm again on Ever’s hip, holding him in place. “My badass kelpie, fierce and dangerous and so fucking tight.”

Pleasure washed through their bond, amplified with every breath. Ever groaned, sinking back toward his heels to meet Bo’s next thrust (and the next, the next, deep and hungry as Ever himself), his claws tearing the sheets.

Time fell away to pleasure. Each shudder and soft noise sang of completion, of heat and need, and Bo curled close, pressed tight. Ever on his hands and knees, asking to be taken. Asking to be fucked .

“My … my Bo,” words broken, arms shaking, a prayer of relief and question, “take me, I need–” a hard, driving press just there , bottomed out, “your kelpie, yours, please .”

Ever shuddered violently beneath him, his arms nearly gave out, back arched, gasping. And with it, a hint of hazy shame, licking at the edges of their shared emotions. Bo could nearly hear it, Everil’s stilted apologies for not seeing to Bo’s needs or being how he wanted.

Fuck that.

Not a hardship, rocking up hard, knees pressed flush to Ever’s, until they were where Bo wanted him to be: chest to back, near the bed, lips to shoulder, hand to hip and twisted sheets. This time with Ever keening and Bo letting his weight settle for a moment.

“Chest near the bed, pretty kelpie.” Bo kissed sweat-slick skin, his voice more ragged gasp than words. “Elbows bent. Forearms on the mattress. You’re gonna use them to keep yourself in place while I fuck you.”

Ever sank down, down, down, knees sliding further apart as he did. A fucking test from whatever god might’ve existed, Bo gritting his teeth to keep from driving in further with Ever’s panted, “This?”

“Fuck, yeah, yes.” Pressed so close, the only thing to do was rock in, tighter, closer, until Ever gasped with it. Failed the fucking test, and Bo couldn’t find it in him to give a shit. “Exactly like that. Fuck, Ever, you’re doing just what I need. You’re so fucking good.”

Fuck him sideways, but Ever mewled . Mewled and let his forehead fall to the pillow, head tilted just enough that Bo saw the color high on those freckled cheeks, his mouth open for an obscenity of eager, needing sounds, gasps and moans and half-stuttered worship of Bo’s name.

Only way to describe it. Worship . A mantra wrenched free with the hard snaps of Bo’s hips. Ever held in place for ungentle, urgent thrusts, spread out like a fucking sacrifice. Kelpie, all winter ice, taken and taken again by a human more suited for forests in full bloom.

Fingers callused from those woods spread over the smooth skin of a river, traced the curling, cool marks, then the line of fine, dark hair. Bo wrapped his hand around Ever’s cock, hard and slick and silk under his touch. Ever jerked at the touch with a raw, hitching keen, pleasure and joy snaking through their bond, feeding their mutual hunger.

“ Yours . Your Ever. I can’t– When you touch me– Won’t last . Bo, I’ll– Winter .”

Asking without asking. Seeking permission without reaching for it. Nails buried in the bed to the knuckle, and that tight, perfect heat, tense around Bo’s cock. Bo’s nerves singing with it, touching him, fucking him, hearing him.

“Good. Want you to finish on my cock. Let me feel you, pretty kelpie,” Bo growled. “So fucking perfect. ”

Probably, he should pace himself. Give Ever time to get there. Probably , Bo ought not cover him entirely, hold him closer as he stroked him. Maybe a kinder man would’ve slowed down and drawn out the pleasure in case Ever did want to last.

He didn’t, though. Bo wasn’t a kinder man, and he regretted fucking none of it.

Not with snowmelt and souls on his tongue and a low groan on his lips. Ever’s dark hair tumbling over his shoulder, tangled in Bo’s hand while the other hand fisted around Ever’s cock, the kelpie all tight heat and obscene cries, flushed and freckled and goddamn perfection.

Ever came with a low, sobbing gasp, wet warmth again spilling over Bo’s fingers. The shudders that’d already wracked him gave way to trembling that only grew more violent with each shaking breath.

“My Bo. Need all of you.” His words tangled together, soft and urgent and lust wracked. “Yours. Please? Make me yours.”

Begging. Asking. Needing. Joy and wonder and pleasure, asking for more, for Bo , and Bo’d told him he’d give him fucking everything. Wasn’t hard to groan a quiet, “Fuck, yes, mine, fucking perfect, my goddamn beautiful kelpie. Yours. Your Bo.” To break in the best ways.

Bo shook apart as he came, hips tucked close while his world broke into shards, blades of grass in the winter wind, cutting and focused and too fucking surreal. Too good. So fucking good.

Auras. Souls. Energy. Cool silver streams and thick bonfire nights. Ever’s quiet moan, sweet and close.

Too much. Took everything to not collapse on Ever’s back and stay there. To only let his fingers trail through ink-black hair and hold on to his hip, gentling them both just enough to ease out of Ever with a hiss.

He stayed close. Didn’t let go. Wouldn’t let Ever think it was a one-and-done, no touching allowed after, or whatever the fuck else his shitty past partners were like. (Ever’s brief discordant note through the singing heat of their bond banished all fucking doubt Bo might’ve had about the shitty past partners.)

(Only brief, though. Gone when Bo kissed his back again.)

“You’re amazing,” Bo rasped, shaking and still unable to catch a full breath. “ Fuck , Ever.”

Ever shifted. Collapsed. He settled onto the bed, was what he fucking did, still shivering and apparently giving zero fucks about the wet spot under him .

“I– Stay close? I’m still– I don’t usually–” A breathless exhale, nearly a laugh, and Bo grinned at the sound. “Never. I’ve never been quite this–”

Bo dropped to the side, greedy hands reaching for Ever and his gorgeous almost laugh. Mutual happiness, damn near fucking giddy. Limbs heavy with climax or not, Bo dragged Ever to him. Held him to his chest, that stupid fucking grin still in place.

“I’m more than okay not being alone in the ‘holy fuck that was awesome, and I’m riding a kind of high.’ ” Bo nuzzled Ever’s hair, letting his hand travel over Ever’s chest. The other, he wiped on the sheets. “ ’Cause holy fuck, Ever.”

“I can’t seem to stop shaking.” Ever’s voice was warmer than he’d ever heard it. Bo could practically see his smile.

“Fucking valid. There with you, too.” Another grin, quick and hidden. Everything felt fucking good . Bo nudged Everil with his knee, lazy and sated. “Your Bo with my Ever. I want to kiss you.”

“Your kelpie Ever answered, with a gentle, laughing emphasis on ‘kelpie.’ He turned in Bo’s arms, pointed teeth visible in his smile. “You’d not wish to kiss me just now. You’d cut yourself.”

Ever, his kelpie, smiles and light in Bo’s arms. And he was smiling, sweet and delighted with the razor teeth of a river predator, watching Bo from black moonlight pools like he wanted nothing the fuck else in the world.

“My kelpie ,” Bo murmured in agreement, reaching to stroke his thumb over Everil’s lower lip. Lovely Ever, with or without the sharp edges of his smile, still lined with silver. “My pretty kelpie.”

Ever pressed his lips together, and when they parted again, serrated points were blunt once more, though the rest of him stayed all fae.

“There.” Another smile, small and shy. “Though you’ll have to settle for my Bo, as ‘my pretty human’ has rather unfortunate implications among my people.”

“Yeah?” Bo shifted closer, tangling their legs together as he stroked Ever’s neck, his chest, his back. Ever sighed, his eyes fluttering shut, and lips curled into another smile at the brush of Bo’s lips to his.

“Quite.” Everil’s fingertips hovered at Bo’s hip, not quite touching. “May I?”

Bo wrapped a few strands of hair around his fingers and tugged, gently. “Touch me? Fuck, yeah. Yes. I like the way you feel. ”

Ever sighed, soft and wondering, then his heated fingers trailed along Bo’s side, along the line of his scar. The touch kicked Bo’s still galloping pulse a notch higher. Weird to still feel this high.

“You’re my bond and my … lover, not my pet,” Ever said, soft and considering. Bo hummed in agreement, watching Ever with heavy-lidded eyes. “An important distinction.”

“I’d make a horrible pet. Best keep me as a bond and lover.”

Ever rewarded him with a small smile. “I’m inclined to agree.”

Bo would do ridiculous, horrible things to see him smile like that. Stupid shit, dangerous stuff, or, as it turned out, kiss him again.

“I meant what I said,” he said, somewhere between light and warm. Bo tasted Ever’s lips as he spoke, water and cold sunlight and still places. “About you and us.”

A little too ambiguous, and he knew it. Too late to take it back. But Ever didn’t stop touching him: fingers soft and claws gentle up Bo’s side and back down again. When he spoke, the words were more careful than even his touch.

“Forgive me, but I’m an ill study of people. I don’t doubt your sincerity. But you said … much.”

“I meant everything.” Bo stretched against Ever as well as he could to give him more room to pet. “Definitely the beautiful, fierce fucking kelpie parts, and talking about you being perfect. Mine and yours. Doing fantastically.” He grinned. “Make you a coherent list when I can think again.”

Was this how sex was supposed to be? Knock you off at the knees and leave you clinging together after, words soft and languid? Bo’d had his share of lovers in the past, mostly between his two forays into internet fame, but it’d never had these moments, tangled together and speaking softly.

“You’re a revelation,” Ever murmured, leaning to kiss Bo with slow intensity, stealing his breath just as Bo caught it. “If a poor hairdresser.”

Bo laughed and kissed him again. “I did my best.”

Ever’s fingers spread over Bo’s side, palm flat, a warm, comfortable heat. “If you wish to make another such attempt, I wouldn’t be opposed.”

Fucking sweet, the idea. Sex and lazy kisses, arms wrapped around one another, and ending the night the way they started.

“I think I owe it to your hair to not leave twigs in it.” Bo tugged once more in demonstration. “And maybe get one of us a crown. ”

“A wreath of oak would suit you,” Ever said, the daring tease.

“If we find bits of trees, sure.” Shit, even if they didn’t. Bo could make a paper crown or something. Whatever Ever wanted. “So, we get up, get cleaned off, and I take a second shot at being a stylist. Sound alright?”

“That sounds suitable, yes. Provided you’re amenable to sleep, after. It’s been some time since I’ve had a proper rest.”

“Think you’ll be able to tonight?”

“Oh, yes,” Ever murmured, all but purring. “You’ve managed to put me quite at ease.”

So fucking sweet. And Bo knew they had shit to face. A murderous ex to hide from. Robin and Jan to navigate. A morning after to not make awkward.

Fucking worth it, though. Whatever happened to them, it’d be fucking worth it.

“It’s mutual, kelpie,” Bo said, smiling. They’d be fine. He’d make sure they were fucking fine. “C’mon. Let me get you cleaned up.”

“We have plenty of room,” Talia said, like she was making a perfectly normal request. A kid wheedling for a second dessert. “No castles or stowaway rapscallions. Half of the backseat is empty.”

“The backseat has a kelpie in it.” Because it wasn’t a perfectly normal request. Bo flipped open the small coffee maker, all but feeling Talia’s eyes go narrow in contemplation, looking for a counterargument. “A kelpie who already has to deal with being trapped in a metal tube for hours on end.”

“Everil’s all about manners. It’s polite to give someone a ride if they need it.”

Bo laughed. “You’d put him at risk with some random off the street?”

Pretty fucking kelpie . Serrated, wickedly sharp teeth, claws made for tearing. Kelpie who could take care of himself if the way he ripped through the forest–and dryad–meant anything. Who watched Bo with eyes wide and spoke in soft, needy whispers.

“I’ll make them promise they’re not an ax murderer,” Talia swore. Bo scoffed. “And besides, Everil won’t mind. Will you, Everil?”

Bo glanced up at the sound of the bathroom door opening. Leering at Everil almost had him fucking up the coffee. Almost . He managed to get the cup under the drip just before it started .

“That depends entirely on whom you’ve decided to carry off this time,” Ever replied, pushing still-wet hair back from his face. The freshly showered look suited him. So did the sidelong, hesitant glance at Bo.

“Not ‘carry off.’ Offer a ride.”

“To carry them off in,” Bo added, biting back a grin. He failed utterly when he met Talia’s eager, expectant expression.

“It’s not a road trip if we don’t pick up a hitchhiker.” Fucking weird kid, saying that with the confidence of teenagers everywhere.

“I’m not familiar with the Protocol for a ‘road trip.’ ” He looked to Bo, offering a small, shy smile. “I’m afraid this falls under your jurisdiction.”

“It’s Protocol for seventies road trips,” Bo clarified, turning toward Ever with a smile of his own. He leaned his hip on the low counter, gaze lingering on those long fingers and that little smile. “Not for modern trips. You can ask my aunt about her adventures, kid. She’s got some fucking doozies.”

“Not even if they’re determined yet downtrodden?” Talia looked at Bo, her round little chin on a knee, half hidden in her hoodie despite them being inside. “They’ll have a battered suitcase and big sunglasses so no one can see their pain.”

Bo stared at her. Talia stared back, the silence not dimming her hope in the slightest.

“If we see someone downtrodden yet determined, holding a battered suitcase and wearing big-ass sunglasses to hide their wounded eyes, yeah,” Bo said after a moment. “We’ll pick them up. As long as you make them promise they aren’t serial killers.”

Talia grinned, nesting further into her oversized hoodie. “Deal.”

“I can’t believe she fucking talked me into it,” Bo muttered, glancing to Ever again. “You drink your coffee black, right? No road trip rules about drinks except that the driver can’t have booze.”

“Black is fine,” Everil answered, stepping closer to Bo and the coffee machine. Bo very determinedly did not lean in and press a kiss against the man’s shoulder. “I appreciate the act more than the substance. And I find my desire for sweets quite thoroughly met.”

Talia’s glance bounced from Ever to Bo before landing, quite decidedly, on Bo. “Okay, fess up. Did you hit him on the head? Drug him in his sleep? He’s smiling .”

“You spent our first nine days complaining I was too dour,” Ever observed while, yeah, fucking smiling even more.

And Bo heard him, same as he did Talia’s questions. Knocking Ever over the head and drugs, all of that. Really. He did .

It was only that he had Ever in front of him, smiling, happy still, and talking about his desire for sweets . And Bo, being that for him. Knowing he was.

“I complained the situation was shit,” Talia corrected from seemingly very far away as Bo grinned at Ever. “It’s still shit, though, in a more exciting way. Did he hypnotize you?”

“No,” Ever answered with another tilt of his lips. “Bo did not hypnotize me.”

“Good. No hypnosis, Bo. Don’t make me call for a new oath.”

“What, you don’t like your foster dad in a good mood?” Bo winked at her. Though, admittedly, most of his attention was on Ever. He reached out, pushing some of the kelpie’s damp hair behind his shoulder. “No new oath needed, kid.”

“Hit your head on something?”

“I am not concussed,” Everil assured her, leaning into Bo’s touch.

Talia rolled her eyes, fingers hooked together. “Are–”

That was as far as she got. The door opened, disrupting the moment of quiet affection and bickering. Ever glanced over his shoulder and froze, his expression falling flat. Bo followed his glance, getting an eyeful at the person who’d just broken into their goddamn hotel room.

Shame and fear and a sick sort of longing overwhelmed the bond, tasting like mulled wine gone rancid. It grew stronger, the longer Ever looked at the stunning stranger.

Sleek and sharp, his dark blond hair combed back like a stereotypical ’80s stockbroker, all decked out in a suit that even Bo could tell was tailored. Or magicked. Whatever. When he smiled–and he did–it rang of warm fires and coaxing, comforting meals. The world shifted around him, the green and palm-patterned room wilting and faded. Like it wasn’t enough .

Ever didn’t move. He only stared while Bo blinked, eyes narrowed in an attempt to wrap his brain around the unexpected stranger, suit and smile and aggressively attractive face.

“Ah, there you are, my love,” the man said, his voice bright and forceful. Like a too-firm handshake from a guy just tall enough to make you feel small. “I was just beginning to worry you’d be difficult to find. But that shocking little display of magic last night was … difficult to miss.”

‘My love?’ Fuck this guy.

“Nimai.” Ever’s voice was barely a murmur, a complete 180 from Fuckface In The Flesh.

The single quiet word burned away Bo’s confusion and what little hurt might have started to form when feeling your damn soulbond ache for something else.

“And here’s Talia. I’m so glad to find you safe.” Nimai stepped inside their room and bowed to the Gate. Graceful and fluid. Fucking gentlemanly, if not for the ooze of oil Bo got from Ever when he spoke. “Your disappearance caused a certain amount of distress.”

“I can go where I like,” Talia snapped.

“Of course, my dear. No one said otherwise. Certainly, you can’t begrudge people being concerned over your wellbeing.” Nimai smiled again, even though his gaze returned to Ever. Past Ever, straight at Bo. “Oberon, isn’t it? What a wonderfully suitable name. A pleasure to meet the man who’s been looking after Everil.”

Bo stared, jaw set and eyes narrowed. Fucker felt like a goddamn paparazzi, using his full fucking name, a media leech asking a teenager about his parents. Fucking looked like one, too, slime and all.

Then, like with Declan, Bo became abruptly acquainted with Ever’s back. It was like a switch flicked, Ever’s shoulders squaring up, and a bristling protective thrill running along their bond. But “ Oberon “ hung in the air, and Ever said nothing.

Bo shifted just enough to look around Ever’s arm to the gorgeous fae and his little will-o’-the-wisp escort. Not Suire, thank fuck. He let out a slow, quiet breath, lifting a hand to rest it on the small of Ever’s back.

“You didn’t knock,” Bo said in the same mild tone he used with the media fucks, smile in place, teeth no longer visible. “Presumptuous as fuck of you. Coming inside, being rude, using my legal name instead of what literally every other scrap in the world says about me. My name’s Bo. ”

Bo didn’t add, ‘You fuckface.’ But it was a close thing.

“Ah yes,” Nimai oozed, disarming and dismissive. He didn’t set Ever at ease, that was for fucking sure. “All those scraps . I’m to understand you’re a bit of a cause célèbre among the humans. In fact, I’m told your ‘videos’ have quite the following.”

“Cool,” Bo said. “I’m not going to say no to the views. You like and subscribe too?”

Bo would’ve bet a million dollars he didn’t have a clue what they were talking about.

Nimai laughed. He sounded so fucking warm. “You hunt for the supernatural, do you not?”

What a fucking asshole.

“You only ask questions you know the answer to?” Bo could answer questions with questions, too, even if he felt Ever flinch at the ask. He curled his fingers into the man’s soft shirt. Reassurance. Or something.

“Aren’t you clever. Imagine what a name you would make by revealing you’d found them. A kelpie and a Gate. Such a coup.”

Bo burned . Fucker ought to be a reporter for Truth!News or some shit, with his insinuations. Same lying smile, fancy words, and suit.

If the guy weren’t a fae, Bo might have been tempted to kick him in the shins. Unfortunately, he was. And Bo wasn’t the violence-loving sort anyway.

Another thing they didn’t have in common.

“That sounds like something a power-hungry prick willing to exploit their bond and ward would do.” He managed to sound light, the words tripping off his tongue with an ease he definitely didn’t feel. “Luckily, I’m not a power-hungry prick. Not big on doing shit to people against their will, either.”

Nimai continued to smile, the expression more fixed. The threat no longer hidden. And Bo was sure he was fucking this up. Fucking positive. But what could he do? Ask Ever? That’d fuck them both up, and Bo sure as all hells didn’t want to give Nimai the satisfaction.

So, yeah, he slid his hand up Ever’s back, seeking an anchor. Bo curled his fingers in Ever’s dark hair, a gentle hold. But there. Real.

Even if Ever hadn’t told Nimai to fuck off with the “Oberon” shit, Bo still had this.

“Human mores are fascinating . So nice of you to give us a little lesson in them. It’s almost like you can’t help but share.”

“Bo’s Everil’s bond.” Talia was hugging both her knees now, glaring at Nimai over the top of them. “That’s not something he could make up for the clicks.”

“I’m sure you’re right, sweetheart,” Nimai answered, placating and patient. Just a smidge of a sigh somewhere in there. “But I’m afraid your faith in Oberon–”

“Bo,” Talia said.

Ever didn’t open his damn mouth. Why didn’t Ever open his goddamn mouth?

Bo knew why. Nimai was an abusive fuckface. Ever’d been attached to him. That shit wasn’t easy to break from. But, fuck. Fuck.

The bastard only smiled again. “Your faith isn’t shared by the Council. There are concerns, especially given Everil’s unorthodox conduct. ”

“The Council has no authority over whom I bond.” Ever finally speaking. Though the words remained barely more than a whisper.

“I know, love. I know.” Nimai stepped further into the room. “But they consider it a matter of security. Don’t fret so. We’ll get it all cleared up.” Another step. Ever didn’t fucking move. “I’ll take care of it. Don’t I always?”

Bo showed his teeth in something that might pass for a smile if a person didn’t know him. Anger was easy. Indignance. But when Nimai stepped in further, almost within arm’s reach, the feeling that swept away the sharp and easy anger was fear . Bitter, throat-closing fear.

Because there’d been another human before Bo. Lawrence. Which, good for Ever; he had a type. Except that human ended up dead, and Nimai didn’t strike Bo as the sort to make things swift.

Bo’s hand tightened to a fist in Everil’s hair. Reflex. Bracing himself. Asking for something. Fuck if he knew.

“Back the fuck off,” Bo bit out, only just managing to keep the wavering thread of that bastard emotion from his voice. “You condescending prick.”

“Oh, child Nimai said. He’d lost his smile. “I believe it’s your turn for a lesson in manners.”

Acid lurked under his words. Ever flinched, seeming so damned small, for all he and Nimai were the same height.

At least the fucker didn’t come any closer.

“He’s my bond,” Ever said, each quiet word set carefully after the last, spine and shoulders rigid. “You’ve no right to him.”

“So I’ve been told. And can you imagine how embarrassing it was for me, having to learn what you’ve been up to second hand?“ Nimai rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Really, Everil, you and your little games. Even dragging poor Declan into your machinations despite how he suffered in your absence.” Nimai said the sluagh’s name in the same way Bo’s mom had blessed someone’s heart. “And after all the work he’s done to become palatable during your estrangement, too. You never think of anyone but yourself.”

Shame and self-loathing, radiating from a man who shrank further with each word.

Ever cringed and Nimai kept talking down to him. Called Ever, Ever , selfish in a way that told Bo all he needed to know about Ever’s hesitations the night before .

“Weird, you calling Ever selfish when you’re the one sighing over your embarrassment Bo snapped, like a fucking idiot.

“You’d do well to hold your tongue.”

Bo knew he should stop. But he was fucking pissed, furious and impulsive and all those other words his therapist had told him to write down on goddamn sticky notes for a year. And he was never good at being told to shut the fuck up.

“You ever stop and think, ‘gosh, I wonder what I could have done that might have upset my former bond? Is there something I can do to be less of a prick? Maybe not tell him that what he cares about is unimportant?’ ”

“Bo isn’t fae,” Ever interjected, the words hurried. Fucking eager, even, the desire to placate Fuckface burning through their bond like too many spice candles lit all at once. “Nimai, this isn’t–”

Nimai cut him off with a look and a tightening of his jaw.

“Bo is my guardian, though,” Talia added before Nimai could speak. “I picked him. Just FYEyes.”

“Yes, sweetheart, he is. For now.” Nimai’s tone had gone clipped and impatient. “The Council will decide if that remains the case.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“That’s my decision.” Talia dropped her knees, sitting upright and forward. The first flickers of her power lit her eyes up, just a little glow. Bells rang gently in the distance.

“It is. But whether he lives is not.” Nimai turned his gaze toward Bo. Ever, still standing between them, stiffened. Which was impressive, considering his posture was already straight enough to make a drill sergeant weep. “Listen carefully, little Oberon, because you clearly understand nothing of what you’ve entered into. Everil is mine by oath. That he’s using you to satisfy certain base kelpie lusts doesn’t make you important. It makes you leftovers he hasn’t gotten around to eating yet.”

Bo laughed with amusement he didn’t feel: quick and sharp. “Big words coming from a brownie.”

“Before you throw around accusations of selfishness, consider this. By our law, you’re his. It’s Everil who’ll lose his tongue if you can’t keep yours in check.”

In a perfect world, Bo would’ve found a way to throw Nimai’s shit back in his face. In the moment, all he could manage was not flinching. He glared, forcing himself to keep taking normal breaths and stand upright.

“ I do not like Nimai,” Declan murmured in Bo’s memory. No fucking wonder .

No fucking wonder, and Bo–

He held on to Ever, no matter how fucking quiet the kelpie was. One thing for Bo to get fucked up, but not Ever. Sweet, quiet, flinch-if-you-glared Ever.

Keeping him out of that was part of the reason Bo’d refused to break the fucking bond to begin with.

Nimai noticed Bo’s silence. That was obvious from the satisfaction in his too-confident smile. The brownie took another step closer, malice in every pretty, perfect fucking line of him.

And Ever, the dude who’d murdered a dryad for Bo without blinking the day before, didn’t make a single fucking move to stop him.