Chapter Thirteen #3
“Maybe heal up a bit first. About now, not sure you could give orders to a potato.” He pressed his face to Declan’s hair, breathed him in.
Wanted to just keep breathing him. Hearing him breathe.
“Not much to say about my side of shit. Managed to talk some sense into Calloway. He was– He’s just a kid, still.
Hero in some story no one’s telling. Think he’ll back off now. ”
“And instead, you are the hero of ours,” Declan answered, with a huff of laughter. “Did you convince him with your muscles? I recall a distinct lack of shirt.”
Hero. Antonio didn’t laugh so much as exhale, a huff of amusement into Declan’s fine hair. Declan’d been the one doing the fighting. All Antonio had done was resist the urge to shake Calloway until his teeth fell out.
“Flexing solves more shit than you’d think.
” Antonio stroked down Declan’s side as he spoke, memorizing him.
Reassuring himself again and again that the man was in one piece.
Not hurt. Not dead. “But nah. Stupid, probably, but I showed him my ink. You talked about it being me telling my own story. Thought if I could get him to read it, see it came before you, maybe he’d stop thinking you’d somehow messed with my head. ”
“It’s not stupid. It worked from the sound of it.
” Declan kissed Antonio’s chest, there near his heartbeat, and Antonio sighed with it.
“Enough for him to drop what I presume was his glamour and take the shinigami with him. Were I in his shoes, it’d turn my heels as well, and I am significantly less soft-hearted than he appears to be. ”
“It had to work.” Antonio’s voice went a little tight. “I would’ve done anything to make him listen.”
“You’ve a way with getting your points across.” As he spoke, Declan’s fingers traveled in absent patterns. Antonio imagined them leaving trails of purple ink. “Very evocative. I’m grateful for it. And you.”
Antonio shook his head. He hadn’t done much, and he wasn’t going to pretend like he had. Talked. That was all. Sent Calloway away crying, and if he was meant to feel bad about that, he didn’t.
Forgiveness was good for the soul, they said. But Antonio’d given his away, so that was Declan’s problem now.
“I didn’t think he’d listen,” he confessed. “Been arguing with him in my head too long. Always losing.”
“Aye, I know that game. I did the same with Everil.”
Fucking kelpie. But Antonio didn’t say it, just nodded. “I thought Calloway was everything when I was a kid. Guess I never stopped seeing him that way.”
“Why would you? When you’re young and your world is very small, someone bigger or stronger or brighter than you takes up an immense amount of room.
” There was an ache in the bond as Declan spoke, his own hurts mingling with Antonio’s.
Leather and smoke. “They take all of that space with them when they abandon you, and what was once a small world is even smaller with a huge rip in it. It’s not as if we have any way of measuring that space against them as we grow if they aren’t there.
There’s just the tear, and our mind fills it in accordingly, even if the world is huge at that point. ”
Antonio let Declan’s words wash over him, eyes half closed. A tear in the world. That sounded about right. Still there, though maybe finally on the right scale. There was no undoing the damage Calloway had left. A life spent chasing and running all at once.
“Yeah.”
“You argued for it, told your tale. He listened. You won a battle you thought lost from the start.”
“Did it for you. Had me scared, Murderpunk. Thought I’d lost you.”
“I promised you centuries, not a handful of weeks.”
“Gonna hold you to that.” Which would be easier without the fucking assassins. “Don’t think this is over, even with Calloway out of it.”
“I'm inclined to agree. Aultyr said Calloway couldn't afford the price offered; losing him may be losing an easy way to track us, but he's not at the top. I wish I bloody knew who was.”
Right, Aultyr. The one whose advice they’d ignored when they headed to Zyr’s, then went for a walk in unclaimed land.
“No kidding. Think maybe we should do like he said? Head for my world?”
“That seems wise. At least it will be decent timing. Your family dinner is in a few days.” Declan shifted, tilting his head up so Antonio could see those pale blue eyes.
“Already canceled dinner. Told Elaine I was busy taking care of my hot new boyfriend.” Antonio could feel the fresh flicker of warmth at the word boyfriend, Declan tucking in that little bit closer.
“Have I met him?” Declan asked, his smile showing those pointed, sluagh teeth.
“You’d remember if you had. He’s a little unforgettable.
” Antonio squeezed Declan carefully, and leaned to kiss his hair.
“If it’s safer, we should go. Just not sure where.
My place isn’t fae friendly. Haven’t been working, so I can’t book us a room somewhere.
Crashing at one of my sisters is out. They’d ask questions, and if the bastards do find us, we gotta be nowhere near the girls. ”
“Would you be comfortable staying with Bo and Everil? Talia will likely be willing to take you to your home in exchange for some random human tidbit when you wish to return. You may have seen her on Bo’s … show? Videos.”
Of course he wouldn’t be comfortable staying with the fucking kelpie. The guy had a hair-trigger temper and a habit of cursing people who irritated him. And yeah, he’d been polite enough when he’d removed Antonio’s curse. But that was as a favor to Declan, not because he’d warmed up to Antonio.
Still, Bo was a good dude. And it used to be except for the fae fucking, but Antonio didn’t have a leg to stand on there, not with Declan pressed against him, real and solid and alive.
He’d almost lost him. He’d stay with Declan in a damned cell if it meant he could keep him safe. The kelpie had teeth. They needed teeth.
“Long as they don’t mind,” he said, shrugging with the shoulder Declan wasn’t lying on. “I’m not exactly on the kelpie’s ‘favorite people’ list. But I can keep my head down, stay out of his way.”
Declan snorted and shifted closer again, no longer looking up to meet Antonio’s eye.
“Few are. Everil is not the most open of fae. However, he's far more prone to forgiving than many. Easily bruised, should you know where to aim.” Declan’s tone was quieter now, caught between fondness and apology.
“When you first met, his bond to Bo was fresh, and the man was very upset. Personally? I think he was falling for our foul-mouthed friend already.”
“Who could resist?” Antonio asked, mostly just for the thrill of Declan’s amusement through the bond.
“Indeed. I suspect Everil also takes in feral cats.” A near laugh, before Declan’s voice went serious again. “I’m not asking you to forgive what happened. Only offering context, should there not have been it before. Nor will I try to make it sound as if he's not dangerous. He is, as I am.”
All said with that mingled hurt and affection that always touched the bond when Declan spoke of Everil. Flowers left to fade in the too-hot sun. The kelpie wasn’t ‘the kelpie’ to Declan. He was a friend, one he’d known for over a century. One who had hurt him and been forgiven for it.
Well, if Antonio was going to leave space in the world for sluagh, banshee, and barghests to be alright, there was probably room for flesh-eating horses with a fondness for vloggers.
The bastard had cursed and threatened to eat him though.
Plus the whole abandoning Declan thing, which was worse.
Antonio wasn’t just going to forget all that.
“Yeah, alright. Don’t worry about it, okay? Me and Everil’ll be fine. Think we both agree on wanting you alive.”
Declan sighed quietly, his hurt fading into smoke, all warmth and content and nearness and Antonio wanted to never let him go.
“Is it decided, then? Let Aultyr hunt while I convalesce as instructed in your world, and you need not be concerned over invisible fire, with plenty of iron in reach.”
Antonio slid his hand up from Declan’s side, letting it stroke through fine, pale hair instead. Bizarre, to lie like this with anyone. Unbelievable, to have it be Declan, a fucking fae.
A sluagh with still raw hurts beneath a smooth surface. An easy smile and wings he tried to hide. The guy who’d showed up in the middle of the night just because Antonio had needed him. Who’d met Antonio’s fumbling confession with heat instead of rejection.
“I can work with that,” he said, reaching further, to trace a line of coiling gray at Declan’s temple. “Long as Everil handles ‘fucking in the guest room’ better than ‘warning a guy not to go skipping into a kelpie’s house.’ ”