Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Bran woke with a pleasurable ache in his body he hadn’t felt since his last one-night stand months ago. He cracked open one eye, the sconces long since dimmed, but the weak light trying to peek through the edges of the curtain told him it must be morning.
He blinked both eyes open, breath catching in his throat a little as his vision parsed the shadows, making out Cillian sleeping beside him in the large bed they’d shared last night.
They had gone to sleep wrapped up around each other but had drifted apart sometime during the night.
Bran tried not to think of that as a reflection of their past. He hadn’t left for Aisling’s room to sleep on her floor last night only because Jupiter had promised to keep watch.
He tugged on their bond, getting an immediate query back from his familiar that felt like awake.
Satisfied that Jupiter had Aisling’s well-being in hand, he shifted a little closer to Cillian, listening to the other man breathe slow and deep in sleep.
His hair was tangled on the pillow and draped over his shoulders, longer than Bran remembered him ever wearing it when they were kids.
Just another difference grown in the years they’d not spoken, but he couldn’t say he minded the style. It suited Cillian, especially now.
Bran lifted a hand and reached out to gently stroke the pointed tip of Cillian’s ear, tracing the shape of it.
Cillian as a Fae wasn’t much different than Cillian as a human—just more beautiful.
Bran couldn’t find it in his heart to hate the other man the way the Council of Witches bade every coven to feel toward the Fae.
Bran couldn’t think of Cillian as his enemy if his life depended on it.
He’d always loved Cillian in some way, even through hurt and anger.
“Mm.” Cillian shifted on the bed, turning his head in Bran’s direction. Bran shifted his hand to cup Cillian’s jaw, gently stroking his thumb over the sharpness of a cheekbone. “What time is it?”
“I don’t know.”
Bran watched Cillian open his eyes, the color gray in the soft morning shadows. He dragged a hand up from the blankets tangled around their hips to press it over Bran’s, shifting onto his side. “Come here.”
Bran scooted closer, slotting their legs together and trying to ignore the interested twitch of his cock.
Cillian fit his hand over Bran’s hip, stroking over the shadow of bruises he’d pressed into Bran’s skin last night.
Bran sighed, curling closer. “We should get up. We need to figure out how to get back home.”
“Can I even go home looking like this?”
“Fae can look human when they’re in the mortal world. I don’t know how to cast glamour, but someone here should know.”
“I’m not sure I trust any help they’d give us.”
“Well, they’re certainly not out to kill you like Ainmire was.”
Cillian’s hand tightened on Bran’s hip. “They’d kill you without a second thought for being a witch.”
“You won’t let them.” The collar around Bran’s throat was proof enough of that resolve.
He’d hated the one Ainmire had made him wear, that horrible thing cutting him off from Nature and his magic.
Cillian’s was a claim he found he didn’t mind, only because it meant he belonged to Cillian, and Bran knew he’d always be safe with him.
Any other collar would leave him in a panic, but Cillian’s only provided relief in the Otherworld.
“No, I won’t,” Cillian said with a fierceness that made Bran shiver.
“We’ll figure out how to make you look human, and then we’ll go home.”
“How do we get there? Through the wyrding again?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
Cillian sighed. “We’re going to need a shower after we get back.”
Bran hummed agreement before leaning forward to kiss Cillian on the cheek. “We should get up.”
Cillian wrapped his arms around Bran and rolled him onto his back with a suddenness that had him gasping.
The weight of the other man on top of him made him shiver, made him think of the way Cillian had so expertly taken him apart last night.
It made him jealous of the people Cillian must have learned it from over the years, hating each and every one of them with a churlishness he wouldn’t apologize for.
“I love you,” Cillian said in a low voice. “That isn’t going to change when we get back home.”
Bran swallowed, aware of the collar around his throat and the way he’d never been able to let Cillian and the memory of him go over the years. Aware, too, of the duty every witch was meant to keep when it came to the Fae. “I love you, too.”
Cillian leaned down to kiss him, lips cool against Bran’s.
It could have been a dream, but when Bran touched him, Cillian was solid and real, there after being only a memory for so long.
He let Cillian press him against the bed, lazily kissing him, feeling his cock stir with interest, but any chance of repeating what they’d done last night was interrupted by a timid knock on the bedroom door.
Cillian tore his mouth away from Bran’s with a quiet curse, rolling off him. “Right. Let’s see who that is.”
He left Bran on the bed with the sheets, taking the blanket with him to wrap around his waist. He cracked the door open, then pushed it wider, and Aisling ducked under his arm, coming inside the room. Bran frantically made sure he was covered up. “Hey, Aisling. We were just getting up.”
She went over to the sconce on the wall and poked at it. The fire elemental inside brightened, providing enough illumination they could all make out the mess of clothing strewn across the floor. Aisling stared at the clothes before looking at Bran, wrinkling her nose.
“Nope, we’re not talking about this when I’m not even dressed,” Bran hastily said, trying not to feel embarrassed. “I’m up. Go get dressed, and we’ll come get you when we’re ready.”
She couldn’t speak, but she gave him a thumbs-up before darting back out of the bedroom to hers right across the hall. Cillian closed the door behind her, looking a little red in the face. At least Bran wasn’t the only one feeling judged by a thirteen-year-old.
He got out of bed, and they both hastily dressed in the set of clothes servants had set aside.
Bran put his bracelet back on, absently touching a finger to one of the beads.
Cillian’s outfit was far more elaborate this time around than even the sort Verlin had worn to greet them.
The glacial blue court coat, matching pants, and crisp white shirt made Cillian’s eyes stand out.
His pale gray boots were knee-high and matched the style Bran had been given, even if his own outfit was far duller than Cillian’s.
The brown and cream clothing clearly put him in the category of servant.
Once dressed, Cillian turned toward the side table to retrieve the leash.
Bran swallowed a sigh and tilted his head back, giving Cillian room to clip it to the collar.
He sighed a little at the sound of the click, knowing he should hate the intended degradation of both, but he couldn’t, not when Cillian held the leash.
Cillian bent his head and kissed him softly. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“I’ll keep this one the same way I’ll keep you.” Bran shivered at his words and let Cillian tuck the end of the leash into Bran’s pocket before taking his hand. “Let’s get some food and then go home.”
They left the bedroom, finding Aisling waiting for them in the hallway, hopping around with Jupiter in a game that made no sense to Bran.
The dress she wore had a high collar and puffy short sleeves, falling to her ankles in gauzy layers from an empire waist. She looked up at their arrival and frowned at Bran.
She gestured at her own throat, then pointed at him.
“Ah.” Bran touched the leash dangling from the collar. “You know how we always said Fae and witches are enemies? Well, it’s true. They don’t like witches all that much in the Otherworld.”
“The collar is mine. It’s to keep Bran safe. As soon as we’re back home, he can take it off,” Cillian said.
The momentary visceral rejection Bran felt at those words startled him.
Ducking his head, he hid his discomfort by kneeling and holding his arm out to Jupiter.
The familiar hopped over to him, and he lifted her up to his shoulder.
She preened his hair as he stood, her presence a soothing thing in the back of his mind.
Aisling picked up her notebook and pen from the floor and pointed down the hallway with a questioning look on her face. Bran shrugged. “Let’s see where it leads.”
They realized fairly quickly they had no idea where to go.
Luckily, a servant saw them a few minutes later, curtsying deeply to Cillian, nodding at Aisling, and completely ignoring Bran.
He tried not to feel annoyed about that and kept silent as Cillian asked for directions.
The servant took it upon herself to lead them to a grand dining hall decked out in reds and oranges and gold, looking like autumn had thrown up in the space.
The table was already set, with three empty place settings on one side of the long dining table. Verlin sat at the head, with Seamus to his right and Carrick to his left. Niamh sat next to Carrick and greeted them with a small smile, the only one to do so.
“I hope you all feel refreshed and the rooms were to your liking last night,” Verlin said.
“It was nice to sleep in a real bed,” Cillian said after a moment.
Verlin gestured at the seats meant for them. “Please, join us for the morning meal.”
Cillian took the chair next to Niamh, and Bran sat beside him.
Aisling hopped onto the one next to Bran, setting her notebook and pen on the table.
She used both hands to tuck her long hair behind her ears before reaching for her water glass.
Bran leaned over to speak softly into her ear. “I know you’re hungry, but eat slow.”