Chapter 19 #2
“…I’m telling you, it’s different,” Moargan was saying when Daven pushed open the doors to Milanov’s office. The air hung thick with cigarette smoke. “You don’t mistake it for lust.”
Helianth laughed. “You did.”
“I mistook nothing.”
Kylix’s voice cut in. “You panicked.”
“Hell no. I changed tactics, is all.”
“Of course you did. I’d say the same thing if I were you—”
Everyone shut up the moment Daven and Ryneth stepped in.
“The party has arrived!” someone cheered.
At those words, Ryneth slowed beside him, but Daven caught his hand and pulled him over the threshold, mumbling, “No stalling now, baby.”
Behind them, Vandor shut the door, the lock sealing with a click.
Daven rarely tolerated the asshole. But this time, he didn’t object.
Milanov looked up from where he stood by the fire. “Good. You’re here. We were beginning to believe you had second thoughts.”
“Do we have a choice?” Ryneth asked next to him.
“Of course you do. You may refuse the bonding.” Milanov exhaled smoke. “The public claim, however, has already been made.”
“He may, yes.” Aviel’s mouth curved as he pointed at Daven. “But not you.”
Milanov lifted his hand. “Stop it, Aviel. Let’s not frighten him further. Ryneth, please take a seat. Daven, release his hand for a moment and let him breathe. He’s not going anywhere.”
Daven reluctantly let go. He sure as hell hoped that Ryneth wouldn’t bolt, or this ceremony would turn into a hunt—and he would enjoy every second of the chase. Though he’d prefer that part remain private.
“I imagine you have questions after our last conversation,” Milanov continued after they’d all taken a seat.
“I had questions,” Ryneth admitted. “But the longer I’m here, the clearer everything becomes. Or less clear, I guess I could say. I mean, this is all just really… weird.”
Cyprian smiled. “I know the feeling. I felt it too when I first came here.”
Ryneth looked up at him with those silver eyes. “Does it get… better? The unrest in my body? This… hum?”
“Your static will settle,” Milanov said. “Or at least it’ll stop feeling like it only answers when you’re cornered.”
Ryneth frowned. “I’m not sure what I mean. I just feel…” He drew a slow breath, and Daven’s stomach tightened at the sound. “Like I said. Weird.”
“There are two things,” Zimeon said from beside the fire. “If it’s your static you’re worried about, that part gets easier. Practice helps. Being here helps. In time, you’ll be able to call on it without waiting for it to panic on your behalf.”
Ryneth looked between them. “And the other thing?”
Milanov stretched his legs out in front of him. “The hum.” His mouth curved. “That’s the part no one likes to explain.”
Ryneth huffed. “Because it doesn’t exist.”
“Doesn’t it?”
Ryneth shook his head. “Those are stories. Things people say when they need something to believe in. When they need to survive another night.”
Milanov’s mouth curved. “Call it fate, if that makes it easier to dismiss. Call it instinct. Call it whatever name makes it easier to swallow. Two people whose power answers each other too strongly to stay apart.”
Ryneth’s mind had slipped back into Düren. Daven turned, and caught the distant, glassy look in Ryneth’s eyes. The opium was already softening the edges.
“My son Moargan found his destiny in Cyprian. Kylix found Mirel. And now Daven has found you.”
“Has found me?” Ryneth blinked. His cheeks flushed, although he refused to look at Daven. Instead he stared back at Cyprian. “Is that true?”
Cyprian smiled. “Yes.”
Mirel shifted beside Kylix. “I-it’s loud at first,” he added. “Like you’re always about to fall. It gets b-better.”
Ryneth dragged in a breath that sounded wrong. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he muttered. “This isn’t real.” He shoved to his feet so fast his chair scraped hard across the floor. “This is not real. None of this is. You’re—”
“Sit down.” Daven’s voice cracked across the room before Ryneth could finish.
Ryneth jolted like he’d been struck. His mouth snapped shut. For one wild second he just stared at Daven, chest heaving, static flickering faintly at his fingertips. Then he dropped back into his seat.
Only then did Daven register that he was already standing over him.
“You’re panicking, aethera,” he said, keeping his voice lower now. “But there’s no need.”
“Helianth, get the equipment,” Milanov barked.
Ryneth shook his head. His lips parted, but nothing came out. Shock drained the color from his face.
“Why are you so scared now?” Daven murmured.
Ryneth’s lips trembled with fury. “Because I had no choice.”
Daven’s mouth curved. “No. But I told you what tonight was.” He caught Ryneth’s hand and pulled him to his feet. “And you still walked through the door. Come.”
“Equipment is ready,” Helianth called out.
“Equipment?” Ryneth’s voice went hoarse. He stumbled as Daven guided him toward the center of the room. “No. No. You didn’t mention that…”
“And it’s not meant to hurt,” Milanov reassured. “But it will engrave Daven in you, and you in Daven. Bring the drinks.”
Somewhere in the background, servants rushed in with trays.
“Good luck with this one. You lucky fucker, getting bonded before I do,” Helianth grumbled. “If I ever get the chance.” He held up the ribbon. “Ready?”
“No,” Ryneth mumbled.
“Yes,” Daven said at the same time. He winked at his aethera, then caught both of Ryneth’s hands and laced his ringed fingers through his.
“Will it hurt?” Ryneth’s voice sounded small, and Daven inhaled his hesitation. It made his teeth ache.
“Maybe a little.” He drew the ribbon tight around their wrists. “Keep your palm like that, beautiful. Don’t move.”
The pale band curled on its own, winding higher, tightening with every breath until their wrists were bound bone to bone. When Ryneth tried to pull back, it followed, flexing like it was alive and refusing to let them part.
“What’s happening?” Ryneth’s voice rose. “What is this—”
“Stay still.” Daven tightened his hold. “It only bites if you fight it.”
The moment their palms pressed fully together, heat sparked between them. Daven felt Ryneth jolt.
His breath caught hard enough to sound like pain, and Daven watched the reaction race through him, first the rigid line of his shoulders, then the sharp pull in his throat, then the way his fingers tried to curl and couldn’t.
It wasn’t pain. Not at first. It was pressure. Recognition. Something waking beneath Ryneth’s skin and meeting its match.
Daven saw the ribbon draw tighter around their joined hands. Light flickered beneath Ryneth’s skin, threading through his wrist like something alive.
“Oh.” Ryneth’s eyes widened. He licked his lips without looking away. “I can feel something.”
“Yeah?” Daven’s own breath roughened. “I feel it too.”
The heat built fast, pulsing between their joined hands. Daven felt Ryneth’s static answer it. Felt his own wind rise in instinct, not outward this time, but inward, threading through the space between their palms until the current became one hard, humming line.
“Are you sure you want this?” Ryneth whispered. “With me?”
Daven stared at him. “Yes.”
The heat flared brighter.
Ryneth’s breath broke as tears gathered in his silver eyes.
“Almost done,” Daven murmured. “Stay with me.”
“It’s the d-drugs, I think.”
“Oh, you think?” someone snickered.
“Helion customs, baby,” Helianth said. “We love our opium.”
The mechanism buzzed softly, but Daven barely heard it. He only watched Ryneth. Watched the glow bloom beneath their skin. Watched the heat climb until Ryneth’s knees almost buckled.
Around them, glasses lifted and voices rose, but none of it mattered.
“Drink?” someone asked him, and Daven took the glass and tipped it slowly to Ryneth’s lips, watching his throat work as he swallowed.
Amber liquid dripped at the corner of his mouth.
Daven leaned in without breaking eye contact and dragged his tongue over the droplet, tasting stubbornness and heat and him.
When Ryneth finished, Daven summoned his wind and flung the empty glass toward the door. It shattered beside Vandor’s boots. Daven smirked.
The material began to cool.
“Done.” Helianth removed the machine and unwound the lace. “I’d be careful, Daven. He may feel a little… unstable.”
That was an understatement.
The moment the lace released, Ryneth sagged. Daven caught him and lifted him into his arms. “We’re cutting this short.” He glanced down at Ryneth. “Aren’t we, baby?”
Ryneth mumbled something that sounded awfully close to ‘asshole’.
Everyone laughed. Daven did too, chest warm with the weight of the man in his arms. Even half out of it, Ryneth was still fierce, still trying to argue, still beautiful.
“He’s done for tonight,” Daven said, already lifting him higher in his arms. “No one else gets the rest of this.”
Refusing the offered transport, he drove them himself. Zephyr’s glass towers cut into the night sky, their upper levels lit like suspended constellations. Traffic streamed in quiet lines of white and gold beneath them, the city gleaming as if it never truly slept.
Barely half an hour later, Daven carried a barely conscious Ryneth to their bedroom.
He could have taken him then. Good Light, every instinct in him wanted to. The bond was fresh, the mark still hot beneath Ryneth’s skin, and his body was soft and open in Daven’s arms.
But not like this. Not while the opium still had him half-dreaming. Not while the ceremony still shook through his system hard enough to make his lashes tremble in his sleep.
The world had seen Daven claim him. His family had witnessed the bond. What came next would belong to no one but them.
He undressed Ryneth slowly, peeling the fabric away with more care than he’d shown all night, exposing inch after inch until he lay bare against the sheets, warm and loose with exhaustion. Daven let himself look. He took in every line of him as if his body might somehow change by morning.
His gaze dropped to Ryneth’s palm, where luminous code still flickered beneath the skin, settling deeper with every slow breath. By dawn, the heat would ease, but the bond would stay. Anyone who knew Helion’s old rites would understand exactly what had been done here.
Ryneth didn’t stir when Daven pulled the sheets over him. He only shifted slightly into the mattress, breathing deeper, his face finally slack with sleep. For now, that was enough.
His Ryneth.
Daven stood there for a moment longer, looking at him in the dark. He had saved him the moment he set foot on Helion. Tonight, he had made sure no one else would ever mistake what he was.
Smoothing Ryneth’s blond hair back, Daven pressed a fingertip to his forehead, tracing the line of silver brows and the thick, shadowing lashes. They fluttered delicately.
“Dream of me,” he whispered at his temple. “And of what I’ll make of you tomorrow.”