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

15. Everil

Chapter fifteen

Everil

Everil couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. He shouldn’t be able to feel Nimai’s aura, shouldn’t taste cinnamon and cedarwood. But he did. He’d left so much of himself behind when he tore his soul free. Ruined himself. Nimai had always said that if he left, he’d be ruined.

Bo stood, silenced by Nimai’s cruelty. No further sharp rejoinders. He clung to Everil, the fear and rage radiating off him, while Talia glared, and Everil–

Everil did nothing.

Because Nimai was always right, and Everil was always wrong, and the safest course of action was to wait quietly and let him handle things.

He did, always, handle things.

He’d handled Lawrence, piece by piece. And now he’d silenced Bo with insinuations and Protocol. Because Bo had dared to treat Everil gently. To kiss him and touch him and offer him security.

Because Everil didn’t deserve to be treated that way.

“Protocol is bullshit,” Talia snapped. “No one’s cutting out anyone’s tongue.”

Nimai lifted an eyebrow, disapproval in the thin line of his lips. He didn’t need to say it. Didn’t need to tell him that Talia’s disrespect was another sign of how poor a guardian Everil was. How he couldn’t be trusted with a Gate without Nimai.

“You’re correct, Talia,” Everil couldn’t seem to get his words to leave him above a low murmur. Nimai hated it when he mumbled almost as much as when he spoke too loudly. “Bo is my bond, not my pet. That Protocol doesn’t apply to this circumstance.”

“No Protocol applies to this circumstance,” Nimai snapped. “Because no one else would be so monumentally foolish as to claim a human as a legitimate bond.”

“Even so.” Everil didn’t bother defending himself. He had been foolish. He had let himself be happy . He knew better. “I have, and he is. I may have trespassed against Protocol, but Bo hasn’t. He isn’t fae. It doesn’t apply.”

“I would be careful about leaning on his humanity, my love.” Nimai’s smile was so very affectionate. “No one cares what happens to a human.”

“I don’t require them to. But I do intend to defend my bond from insult.”

“You?” Nimai’s laughter was bitter. Accusing. “You’re hardly a reliable defender, my wild horse. You’ll be off and running again as soon as this infatuation is over. And where will that leave him?”

“ If that happened, it’d probably leave me about to get a lesson in manners Bo’s answer came with the sweetness of a summer night. With trust . “And more than a little emotionally compromised.”

“ If,” Nimai answered, reflecting Bo’s own emphasis on the word. “That’s correct, I suppose. The Council is likely to make the issue moot.”

Everil bristled at that. “The Council has no authority–”

Nimai cleared his throat, and Everil’s mouth snapped shut. Nimai loathed arguments.

“The Council has authority over anyone who poses a threat. Bonded or not. And there are those who question whether what you have even merits the term. Your ‘bond’ has a right to ignore the summons, of course. They do not require his testimony to reach a verdict.”

With every word from Nimai, Bo grew a little closer, his hand remaining in Everil’s hair, though it’d be wiser for him to pull away. The man, Everil was beginning to fear, hadn’t the least self-preservation instinct.

“There a pretty Protocol approved way of telling someone to buzz off so we can talk?” Bo asked, speaking softly, even as his anger and fear screamed through their bond. “Otherwise, my default is ‘fuck off for a few,’ and I’m thinking that’ll be treated as ‘yes, please, make my choices for me.’ ”

“These are rented rooms,” Everil couldn’t bring himself to meet Nimai’s gaze, but he could at least force the words out. “Hospitality Protocols don’t apply.”

“Which means, ‘buzz off so we can talk’ is fine,” Talia added. “You just have to be the strongest one in the room if you want to be listened to. Which. I am.” She turned to Nimai, power building around her. “So buzz off.”

“I would, sweetheart, but I have an obligation to the Council.” Nimai’s tone was all politeness. He always knew who to treat well .

“They gave you a message. And you delivered it. Obligation discharged.” Talia shrugged. “You can hardly bring Everil and Bo back with just a ‘wisp. If they expected you to, you’re fucked. I’m not helping.”

“Talia,” Everil said very quietly.

“He’s not the boss of me, Dad. “ There was a hint of Talia’s strange humor in her words, even as she glowed yet brighter with power. “And neither are you. If he wants us in Faerie, he better go, because I’m not doing anything until he does.”

“The Council has already convened.” Nimai used the careful, near singsong tones one used to address young children.

“Then it’s a good thing they’re immortal. They can wait.” She was a small star, sitting on a hotel bed. Too bright to look at. “And you can tell them I said it’d be a very bad idea to act against Bo or Everil without all Protocol owed to my guardians. I might lose my temper.”

“I can’t speak for Talia’s opinion on bluffing,” Bo added, quick and confident. “But I’m pretty sure this is a time where fucking around and finding out won’t go well for you, Nims.”

The air filled with the taste of Nimai’s magic. The burn of cinnamon and clove. He didn’t glow, as Talia did. He didn’t change in the least. Instead, the room did, as his perceptions painted themselves on every surface.

Tawdry, cheap decor. The bedding soiled and shamefully rumpled. The smell of damp and mold and sex.

Disgusting. Sullied. Unworthy of a fae of class and taste, just as Everil himself had always been.

“The less time I’m required to spend in ‘your rooms, ’ the better.” Nimai’s words dripped with disgust. “Talia, know I only came out of concern. I hope, yet, to be your ally. And, Everil? Don’t tarry over long, my love. The Council isn’t so patient as I am.”

With those words, Nimai gave his will-o’-the-wisp a curt nod, and the two of them disappeared in a final burst of power.

Gone .

Gone, and Bo leaned in further, his forehead against Everil’s back, his arm around his waist.

Gone, not because Everil had stood up to him, but because Talia had made threats she shouldn’t have voiced and certainly couldn’t make good on.

“What a fucking bastard,” Bo gritted out. “No wonder you called him an asshole, Talia.”

“I don’t like him.” Talia still sat in the center of a nimbus, but it wasn’t quite so brilliant.

“Yeah, me either. Is everyone there going to call me Oberon, or is he just being a prick? Will you guys get punished if I call him Nims or Nimmy or My-my? ’cause fuck him for that.”

Ah. Yes. Everil had let Bo down in so many ways. Felt his hurt and done nothing.

“Should anyone else address you thus, I’ll correct them on their rudeness.” Everil’s tone held none of his cringing guilt. It came out flat. “And he cannot harm either of us, regardless of what you call him. Talia is a Gate. And he can no more lift a hand to me than I can to him.”

“Anyone else, but he’s free to?” Bo’s question, bitter on Everil’s tongue, was the lash he’d been waiting for.

It was almost a relief to finally be the target of Bo’s anger. It was always going to happen that way.

“I…” The helpless word barely voiced, because what was there to say? Everil had failed Bo. He had known he would fail him.

“Fuck, sorry. That was shitty of me. It’s not important.”

It clearly was.

“I cannot harm him. It isn’t simply an aversion to the idea.” Everil stood rigid, Bo still leaning against him. “I cannot . I’m oathsworn against it. So, yes. I fear you’re correct. I will defend you from anyone else, but I cannot protect you from Nimai. That he did you no harm was for Talia’s sake. Not for mine. You aren’t safe, Bo. I’ve told you this from the start.”

Silence.

Silence and Bo’s breathing and the chaotic swirl of his emotions. Fear, among them. The man who had kissed and touched and held him was afraid. Because Everil had failed him.

“I thought you meant ‘correct’ like you corrected Talia when we made our oaths,” Bo said at last. “I didn’t realize you meant fucking someone up. Sorry.”

“Protocol is only a pretty idea, unless you’re ready to shed blood for it,” Everil explained quietly. “Laws are not laws without consequences. And we fae have very permanent opinions on consequences. ”

“Okay, when did this become a sad piano moment?” Talia asked, the bed creaking as she stood. “I’m a Gate . I could open a pocket dimension and keep you both there. No sweating.”

“You serious?” Bo asked, a flicker of relief in the question.

“Yep. It’d be a little ‘unbroken void-y,’ but you wouldn’t get visitors.”

“I don’t believe that would be my first choice of solution,” Everil replied, with the barest hint of dry humor.

And Bo, too patient and too forgiving, laughed, rough though the sound was.

“There’d be snacks.” With a final shrug, Talia walked to the door that Nimai had left open. “You two hug it out or whatever. And Everil, use your words. ”

The door slammed, and it was only the two of them.

“I apologize,” Everil murmured, still stiff in Bo’s arms. “For Nimai and … everything else. The fault is mine, in all of this.”

“You’re not responsible for your shithead, murderous ex.” Bo reached out, his fingers brushing Everil’s, and Everil reached in return. Couldn’t help but do so. “What’s ‘everything else’?”

“Do you require the full list or only the abbreviated version?” Everil’s bitter laugh was unbecoming but impossible to swallow. The disappointments had begun with his birth when he’d emerged a kelpie and not a nereid like his father. “You wouldn’t be in such danger if I hadn’t given so binding an oath. If I’d been the partner Nimai needed. Not betrayed him as I did.” He shook his head, helpless in the face of his innumerable mistakes. “If I had only remained in Faerie, faced the whispers, I could at least call in favors. We are, as I said, a people who trade in debts. But I left. I am, in human terms, ‘broke.’ You deserve better than this. Than me.”

Bo laced their fingers together, leaning in as Everil poured out his failings.

“I wasn’t there.” The words were gentle. Bo was good at gentle. “But if he’d been the partner you needed, I don’t think … Why was it on you to be what he wanted? It doesn’t sound like a mutual thing.”

Everil relaxed into Bo’s touch and too-kind words. The man’s questions came at a slant. He tried, always, to place Everil in the right, when anyone who knew Faerie would see that it was otherwise.

“Those who matter in Faerie possess two qualities. Power and respectability. I have the former but lack the latter. My House lacks the latter, despite efforts to address the issue.” To birth a nereid instead of a kelpie. “The House is very old, but it is more idea than fact. No vassals, now. But we still had a Gate to care for. We have sheltered Talia’s every incarnation since the first. And I am my House’s only heir. To fulfill my duties, to act as guardian as my House is sworn to be, I required a bond. But I am … ill-suited to bonding.”

“Not in my experience,” Bo murmured, and Everil almost smiled.

“Nimai was my one chance. Better still, he’s very well liked. There are few fae so respectable as brownies. His soul is also more amenable to bonding than my own. He was my only option, but I was not his.” He had heard, often, about Nimai’s other potentials. How respectable and pleasant they were. How much Nimai had given up to be with Everil. “My family agreed to much to convince him to accept me. Nimai is ambitious, and he required me to be … better. Acceptable. It was never mutual, as you put it. That wasn’t the oath. He agreed to an undesirable bond, and I agreed to become what he desired.”

Bo’s grip tightened, and it felt so very good.

“That sounds miserable, Ever. Fuck. I’d go out of my goddamn mind with all that on me. With someone only agreeing to be with me if I became someone else. Turn around? I need a hug while I try to process all that fuckery.”

Everil turned, reaching hesitantly to brush his fingers up Bo’s back until he could rest his hand lightly at the nape of the man’s neck. He did no more, no pressure or expectation. But he let his hand linger and hoped that if it wasn’t enough, Bo would tell him what was.

Bo was safe, that way. He never hesitated to show Everil where the path was.

“Not everyone is meant to be happy,” Everil murmured, his voice finally settling back into its usual gentle calm. “It wouldn’t have been any great sacrifice for someone … better. But I could never read him well, even through our bond. I did try.” A soft note of pleading entered his tone. He had told Nimai so often that he was trying . “But I’m not clever with people, the way he and Declan are.”

Bo’s hand covered his. Gentle pressure, until Everil held him more surely. It almost drew a whimper from him, Bo’s impossible kindness. Being permitted– encouraged –to touch.

“I know you tried.” Bo found his other hand then, tugging softly until Everil settled it at the small of Bo’s back. “A lot of people aren’t good with reading others. And the practiced politic sorts are fucking tough to get a handle on, even if you are. It’s not fair, playing a guessing game like that. Does a fucking number.”

“It’s always the wrong guess,” Everil murmured. “I always made the wrong guess. And still, he loved me. Loves me. That’s always been a sticking point between us. That he stooped to loving me, but I never rose to pleasing him. ”

Bo wrapped his arm around Everil’s shoulders, tangling his fingers in still-damp hair. Steady, unspoken direction, guiding Everil to his shoulder. Allowing him this. To breathe him in, vanilla and honey and skin.

“I know what it’s like to need to throw your everything into being something else because someone loves you, and you want them to like you, too. It’s fucking work, all for someone who doesn’t need to work back. Whatever the reason.”

There was old pain in Bo’s words. When he spoke of knowing, it wasn’t merely a nicety. Everil would very much like to meet his parents on a riverbank, someday.

“You deserved better. Bo, I–” Everil cut himself off. He needed to say this correctly. To not turn an attempt at explanation into a plea for further reassurance. Bo was so very kind. “Please, try to listen for your sake instead of mine. I’m ill-suited to a partnership. Experience has taught me that. I struggle with what is required. Intuition. Selflessness. Loyalty. And I know I have already disappointed you greatly, with Nimai. I cannot even offer reassurances of better behavior. I wish it were otherwise, but I cannot.”

This was too difficult. Everil pressed harder into Bo’s shoulder, weak with the need of that comfort.

“The name thing got to me,” Bo answered. “You called Talia out on it before, and I figured that’d keep up. But I’m not disappointed. I– Fuck, right. Look, how he treats you, how you act with him, smacks of abuse from where I stand. I know fae aren’t humans and get from what you’re saying that he’s not in the wrong to you or them. But there’s a huge fucking power imbalance. Which I get, you agreed to things being a certain way. Doesn’t make it any less fucked to me, how he used it against you. Human views. Not yours or his or other fae views.”

Human views. Bo’s generous, patient, undeserved support. And Bo’s hands, holding him close and closer. Later, perhaps he could offer further apologies or explanations. Reassure Bo on the subject of ‘abuse.’ Nimai had never done him injury. Had hurt him, yes. Taken pleasure in hurting him. But never laid a hand on him in anger. Even if he’d wished to, the oath prevented it.

“Thank you for explaining it. I forget, sometimes, that humans see things differently. Bo, I’m terribly fond of you. I know I responded poorly at the start. I was afraid for you and for myself.” In truth, Everil was still afraid. “I mislike that the ‘work’ of this–of what’s between us–falls to you. If I can, somehow, ameliorate the circumstance you’ve found yourself in, you need only ask. Whatever you wish of me, I will attempt. ”

“I’m pretty fucking fond of you too, you know.” Bo’s words came on a sigh. “We’ve both got our work to do. There’s a few things that’d help me. I promise they aren’t ‘be what I desire.’ You already are. Okay?”

Everil traced his thumb down the side of Bo’s neck. Found the place where his pulse beat and left it there.

“Your kelpie,” he offered, voice half-muffled by Bo’s closeness and his own shy hesitation.

“Fuck yeah, my kelpie. Your Bo, too.” Bo pulled him closer. Squeezed and held on.

“My sweet Bo,” he said and breathed in honey and citrus and safety. “Tell me how I might help. Please?”

“First, I don’t want to be the reason the Council decides to yank out your tongue or eyes or what-the-fuck ever. When I ask shit, you being specific, like with the oathsworn-not-just-aversion thing helps me a stupid amount.” Bo tugged lightly at Everil’s hair as he spoke, the gesture warm and affectionate. “Rather than just saying I’m not safe with you. I don’t know how fae society works. Explaining things like I’m a dumb human baby is welcome.”

“I fear I don’t have any puppets at hand,” Everil answered, with hesitant humor. “But I will endeavor to be more direct.”

“That’s all I’m asking.” And Bo’s fingers continued, all soft, reassuring touches that chased the tightness from Everil’s shoulders, allowed him to hold on tighter, nuzzle in closer.

“Nimai was wrong, to imply your actions might lead to retaliation against me. You are not…” he trailed off, struggling to explain. To be clear. “Nimai was speaking of you as a kept thing. Assuming I would bring you to Faerie under my name. In such a case, yes, your actions would be my responsibility. But I’ve no intention of claiming you thus. You’re my bond and Talia’s guardian and a human. There is no Protocol for you. That offers a modicum of protection, at least. Is that clearer?”

“Yeah,” Bo answered, his fingers carding lightly through Everil’s hair. “A lot clearer. Thanks for calling him out on that. It’d probably have said a couple things we didn’t want if I went in thinking I needed to act like a kept thing to keep you from getting hurt.”

“Fae do enjoy ascribing meaning to every lifted eyebrow and twitching finger. But you needn’t worry in this. I’m in no physical danger, and my social standing is non-existent.” Everil shook his head against Bo’s shoulder, a hint of laughter in his voice. “This is becoming no clearer, is it? Apologies. ”

“Nah, you’re doing good. It helps a fucking lot to know my rude ass likely won’t make or break shit. If I start sounding like I’m assuming shit wrong, I won’t get mad if you add more information. Puppets at hand or not.”

They had gotten into the habit of having conversations in the most ridiculous of arrangements. Surely, this could all be more easily discussed if Everil weren’t pressed to Bo, speaking mostly to his neck and shoulder. But at least some of the ill feeling, rind-bitter between them, had given way to ease.

“I’m sure Talia would be delighted if we took her puppet shopping.”

Bo snickered at that, his fingers continuing their careful stroking. “There’s a couple things that’ll keep me from losing my absolute fucking mind once we’re in the thick of things. That was a big one.”

“What else?”

“Just–” The silence stretched again. “If things don’t fall in our favor, don’t let Nimai be the one to kill me. And somehow let my family know?” Bo’s words came quick and tight, at odds with his continued slow touch. “Do what you did with the dryad or, fuck, I don’t know. Literally anything quick and by someone not that asshole. Make sure my family doesn’t think I abandoned them–” he cut himself off, swallowed, then continued just as quickly. “I’m not going into this prepared to die. But I can’t face these fuckers if I’m worried the last thing I’m going to see is his smug fucking face. And Robin, I need to know he won’t have to wonder if he missed signs that I needed help. Wonder if he could’ve stopped me.”

Everil tightened his grip on Bo’s neck and back, a protective, possessive hold. He wanted to let his claws show and tear into anyone who offered Bo harm.

But Bo hadn’t asked for protection; he wanted assurance. And hadn’t Everil already had a like discussion with Declan? Suggested it might be best to take Bo to the river rather than let him fall into Nimai’s grip? It didn’t feel so simple a solution now.

“As you wish,” he said, not entirely keeping the low rumble of threat from his voice. “I swear, I’ll do all that is within my power to keep you from injury. But should it come to that, it will be painless and by my hand. Your family won’t be left to wonder.”

“Thanks,” Bo murmured, his lips against Everil’s hair. “I appreciate you.”

“You ask very little,” he murmured, rather than further discuss the possibility of Bo’s death at his hands. “I believe the tradition runs toward gold and magic slippers.”

“Don’t think slippers are my style.” Bo sighed, the heat of his breath ruffling Everil’s hair. “What happens with the Council? ”

Another question that was owed a full explanation. Everil would try.

“In sum, there will be trials. Ordeals. Two or three or nine, depending on how thoroughly Nimai’s poisoned the waters.” Reluctantly, he eased his hold on Bo and raised his head. “And the focus of said trials will depend on what, exactly, has been argued. This might best be discussed while sitting.”

This wasn’t a matter to be explained while wrapped in each other’s arms. It would take time. And it may well decide whether he was forced to make good on his promise to kiss the air from Bo’s lungs.

Faerie. Forever changing and changeless, static as it was unpredictable.

The landscape was nebulous and ill defined, caught by mist and memory. The rolling, desert hills Everil’s mother had come to favor after his father’s death. Scrub and rock. The twilight sky, with the stars just emerging, while the moon moved through its phases without the interruption of the sun.

It’d been a century since Everil last felt the clinging resistance of the veil give way at a Gate’s command. That last time, Everil had been ready to beg or bribe the House’s Gate. But unlike Everil’s friends, his parents, and everyone who’d dropped by to see him after he broke his bond with Nimai, the Gate had looked at him with sympathy. He’d asked no questions, only sent Everil on his way.

Now, Everil was back. And the estate was his, now his mother was dead.

Dead. That awareness brought only the same dull defeat as it had when he heard the news. They had stopped mattering to each other a long time ago. And he had never been more than her greatest disappointment.

The local magic, recognizing Everil, swirled around him. A strange, exhilarating feeling to be embraced by Faerie, frisky as a puppy and ready to play.

Everil’s glamour fell away while grass pushed up under their feet, the scent of new growth clashing with the dry smell of sagebrush. Fireflies flickered into being, little flashes of multi-colored light.

“Welcome to Faerie,” Everil said, turning to Bo. It was just the two of them, yet, while Talia managed the veil. “I wish I might have shown it to you under better circumstances.”

Bo answered him with bright, half-wild laughter and a crooked grin .

“Why we’re here fucking blows,” he said, smiling at the estate, at the sky, at Everil, in a way that made his chest tight. “But holy shit, this is awesome. It feels like– Fuck. I don’t know. Static? Being watched? But not in a shitty, about to pounce way.”

“Faerie is the very essence of magic. It is aware, though not as we are. It has moods and opinions. And it seeks to adjust itself to suit its people, though its ideas of suitability are often idiosyncratic.” Everil stepped behind Bo, reaching to curve one arm around his waist. “May I show you?”

It was a daring request, but being back on his lands tempted his nature to the surface.

“Fuck, yeah. Yes. Go for it. We cuddling?”

“If you’ll allow it,” Everil answered, pleased by the way Bo leaned into him. As if he was truly where he wished to be. “I could manage by simply touching your arm, but this is more comfortable.”

It was then that Talia stepped back into existence, separating from the veil. “That always feels kinda stretchy. Like being run through a cosmic pasta maker.”

“A pasta maker?” Everil asked, without shifting away from Bo.

”A cosmic pasta maker. Stretched out to infinity while you two were canoodling.”

“I see.” Everil indicated the grounds with little more than a tilt of his head. “I was merely endeavoring to help Bo feel more at home.”

“Sure.” Talia drew the word out, eyebrows lifted. “Magic canoodling.”

“You’re weird, kid.” Bo seemed utterly unruffled by Talia’s observation. “I mean that as a compliment. You going to begrudge a guy who might need to live in a pocket universe some magic canoodling?”

“ I am a timeless liminal being of inconceivable power,” Talia replied, with faux primness. “And maybe a little weird.”

“Undersocialized,” Everil murmured.

“That’s why we need Bo alive. He’s going to take me to a mall!” Talia’s grin was full of unrepentant enthusiasm. “So get it out of your system, both of you. We’ve got to go save the world.”

“The world?” Everil asked, with his own small smile.

“ My world. As in, the mall. And my getting to go to it.”

“As someone also undersocialized as a kid and supremely weird, I stand by my statement.” Bo still sounded utterly unrepentant, and Everil took comfort from the way he continued to lean. “You let us get this out of our system before shit goes down and maybe we’ll be back to the mortal world in time to drag you Black Friday shopping. Humanity at its most interesting and chaotic.”

“One of you is a terrible influence on each other,” Everil said, settling his arms more firmly around Bo. “I simply haven’t decided which.”

“Oh, it’s definitely me.” Talia took a step away from them, surveying the landscape with melodramatic fascination. “Hey look, a shrubbery! Later, Dads.”

Everil watched her meander off before turning the entirety of his attention back to the man leaning warm against his chest. “Will you close your eyes for me?”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Bo answered, with a little laugh, his head tipped back against Everil’s shoulder. “Bring it.”

“In this case, the intent is for you to ‘bring it.’ ” Everil pulled Bo in closer, his lips brushing the shell of his ear. “This isn’t about specificity, as it was at Brookhaven. Faerie responds more effectively to emotions than explanations.”

Bo shivered against him, eyes still closed. “Feelings, huh?”

So very tempting. Solid humanity surrounded by Faerie’s mutability. Everil leaned in, pressed his lips to the corner of Bo’s jaw while he slid a hand up, over Bo’s chest.

“These are my lands,” Everil murmured, allowing his blunted teeth to graze Bo’s skin. “Yours, as my bond.” Another kiss and the span of Everil’s fingers over Bo’s heartbeat. “If you’re pleased the lands will reflect it.”

He withdrew his power from the reaching magic surrounding them, filtering it through Bo, instead. It would take some time for the estate to know him. Everil wasn’t above helping it along. Whatever happened, he wanted to gift Bo this.

“I’m feeling pretty pleased, yeah.” And oh, but Bo sounded it. Felt it, his pleasure a sweet rush of vanilla over Everil’s tongue as he kissed Bo’s throat, then kissed it again.

And just like that, Faerie changed.

Desert gave way to old growth forest and the dry air turned heavy with heat and the scents of summer. The fireflies continued to dance among the trees, multicolored lights bringing more illumination to the scene than they ever would on the human side of the veil. Dim, not dark, and the silver of the moon filtered through the leaves, caught on Bo’s hair and his skin.

Faerie’s shifts weren’t often so sudden. But these lands had been starved without their sworn keeper. And who could resist such a fetching mortal? Certainly not Everil, open to Bo, pouring himself through him. Bo answering with delight and pleasure, the clarity of his emotions an unexpected, dizzying rush.

Light into heat. Honey-glazed fruit placed on a ready tongue.

Bo’s pulse under Everil’s lips while the nightbirds called above. Honeybees mingled with the fireflies, flickering like them, clumsy and ambling towards small gray flowers, almost invisible in the moss.

“Holy fuck,” Bo whispered, his voice a little shaky. “Holy fuck. Ever. Fucking hell.”

“Yours,” Everil answered, words steady but breathing sharp. The lands. Everil himself. All Bo might ask, Everil would happily beg for the chance to offer. “Entirely.”

“My badass kelpie.” Bo covered Everil’s hand with his own, intertwining their fingers. “This is you. Told you what you feel like, right?” He nuzzled in closer as he spoke, words soft in that way he had, sweet as a kiss from honeyed lips. “Us, anyway. Said if I was pleased, Faerie’d reflect it? It really fucking does.”

Everil’s breath caught, despite his efforts to keep it steady.

This is you. Us.

It wasn’t what he knew of himself. What he’d learned of himself. There, in the hotel room, with Nimai looking on in disgust, that had been Everil. Tawdry and pathetic, a self-made ruin.

Bo’s forest was old growth giving way to new. Nurse logs sheltering tender green and the cool cut of running water through the heat of summer. Death birthing life, in a space that felt safe for both.

Everil closed his eyes, burying his face against Bo’s neck and holding him with more strength than was entirely appropriate. Finally, reluctantly, he eased his grip and lifted his head.

“I’m discovering that the experience of a soulbond is more colored by perception than I understood.” Everil breathed deeply, taking in the scent of moss and sweet air. “You find more in me than I believed to be there.”

“Fuck knows no one else would associate ‘sweet’ with me.” Bo reached up, curling his fingers into Everil’s hair, a gentle tug of reassurance and affection. “At first, you reminded me of old houses. Same kind of vibe. It’s changed, the last few days. I fucking love old houses. But the more I know you, the more…” he shrugged, smiling up at Everil. “This is what I taste and smell and think of.”

This. An icy river feeding the roots of ancient trees. Air warm and laden with the scents of honey and citrus. Them together. And so very suited.

“Sweet Bo,” Everil murmured. Just that.

“More to you than meets the eye, kelpie. My pretty, dangerous, secretly hilarious Ever of the river in the deep woods.”

Everil slid his hand free then, reaching to touch Bo’s chin as he gave in to the need to taste his lips. To kiss him with all the fragile hope and reckless desire he could bear.

Because Bo was perfect. Sweet and generous and his . But the Council would see none of that. They would see a short-lived, ill-mannered mortal. And they would want him dead.