Chapter Twelve
This day has been a year long. And it isn’t over yet, because I refuse to let us go to sleep without my apartment being warded; and for it to be warded properly, I need Seb.
I could ask Gulus to set up some spells, but until someone figures out who in their adventure party leaked the info about Galaxrien’s descendant being associated with Urzoth, and on top of seeing what kind of place they let Tem keep Bel in, that whole party’s on thin ice.
Given that Seb’s been blowing up my phone for hours, asking why I need him to set up extra security for me, I know I won’t get our wards without an explanation.
Bel is dozing against the window by the time I park at my place. Even though all I want to do is carry him up to my bed, I wake him.
“Hey,” I whisper. “We’re here.”
His eyes flutter open and he blinks at the parking garage, his face set in a cute rumpled scowl.
That scowl smooths in realization, and he looks at me. “Your friend’s coming over?”
“Yeah. He’s on his way.”
Bel nods. I told him about me and Seb, from our childhood to a brief recap of how Camp Merethyl’s horrors bonded us; Bel knew some of it from the public details of the lawsuit.
But I told him how I went to college and grad school to follow Seb, and that I’ve been working on my codependency because I know I have obsessive predispositions.
I hope Bel won’t be jealous of Seb, won’t be uncomfortable about our relationship. But as he sits there in the dark, orienting to being awake, his brow pinches in concern.
“You’re sure you’re okay with bringing him in on this?” I double-check.
Bel shifts toward me. “Yes. If you’re going to do this, you need people you trust. You didn’t ask for any of this, so the least I can do is let you use who—”
“We’ve been over this. I did ask for this. I want this. If I do something you disagree with, or something that makes you uncomfortable, tell me. Does bringing Seb in make you uncomfortable?”
He hesitates, and I’m close to texting Seb not to come when he shakes his head.
“What if he doesn’t like me?” he asks, then cringes.
“Gods, that’s pathetic. I mean, what if he doesn’t like you doing this for me?
It’s dangerous; Ilbryen definitely manipulated you.
There are a dozen reasons why someone who cares about you would be against me.
Seb’s important to you, so I want him to like me. But I don’t know how to—”
I lean forward and kiss him. It’s been way too long since I did; when was the last time? In the hotel?
My lips find his, silencing him, and I slip my tongue along the seam of his mouth until he moans.
“You’ve already met Seb, remember?” I tell him. “Outside the stadium.”
“I barely spoke to him.”
“He knows how I feel about you, so he’ll love you, and he’ll hear me out about why I’m doing this. It’s expected he’ll have reservations, but I’ll talk to him.”
“We both will.” Bel runs his fingers through my beard. “He can ask me anything, anything at all. My life’s yours now, I swear.”
I grab his wrist, those words tattooing themselves at the base of my stomach, a painful bite that I know is crossing a line.
“That’s not what this arrangement means,” I growl. I tell him that because I know I should, but a larger, darker part of me wants to snatch him up and make him say that again.
My life’s yours now.
Bel melts into my grip and rests his lips over mine.
“Maybe not,” he croons into my mouth. “But it’s what we both want it to be.”
Gods, this is a mistake. Seb’s going to see right through how unhealthy this is and call me on it.
Fuck, what will I do if he does tell me I should back out? I can’t. I won’t see Bel shipped off to what’s more or less imprisonment. But beyond that, I want him here. I need him in a way that’s swept over me in a suffocating whirlwind, and yes, that’s harmful. Yes, that’s a red flag.
But I’m past caring.
I get us out of the car. With both our bags from the trip hooked over my shoulder and the boxes from Bel’s apartment stacked in my arms, I lead us to the elevator, then up to my floor.
Every security feature grabs my attention now, how I have to punch in a code to access the elevator but it stops at any floor, meaning whoever has that code can easily get in.
And then there’s the long expanse of open hallway leading to my door; it has a security camera, sure, but is it recording?
If the building owner doesn’t write me back by tomorrow morning, I’ll stop at her office.
Did Gulus get in here? He’s probably watching from a distance like he has been, likely in a building nearby—there’s a hotel diagonal across the street. Maybe he’s there?
I juggle the boxes to reach for my keys when Bel takes them from me and unlocks the apartment I point to. He swings the door open and I stumble inside, bumping on the entryway light with my elbow and setting his boxes and our travel bags on the tiled floor.
As I shut the door behind us and throw the deadbolt and chain, Bel looks around with his mouth slightly agape.
It’s a far cry from his old apartment, and seeing it now, fresh off being there, the differences are …
drastic. The walls are clean and white, the fixtures all high-end, and it smells like vanilla air freshener.
“Guestroom’s through there,” I say, pointing to the room on our immediate left. “It has a closet that’s basically empty, so if the master one is too small, feel free to expand. Straight ahead is the open-plan kitchen, living, and dining room, and off to the right is—”
“I called it, baby. He’s moving his little cheerleader in.”
Halfway over the threshold of the main room, I spot Seb and Thio stretched out on my oversized couch. The sun set about an hour ago, and they’re lurking in the glow of their phones.
I pop on the overhead light and brace my hands on my hips.
“Did you? Move him in?” Thio tosses his phone onto the coffee table with a groan. “Just let me win one bet involving you. Just one.”
I roll my eyes. “How often do you two bet on me?”
Seb, his head in Thio’s lap, grins. “Frequently enough that you’ve become a regular part of our foreplay. It’s creating a troubling Pavlovian response, honestly.”
Behind me, Bel makes a confused chirp.
I rub the skin over my nose, sigh, and step aside. “You remember my little cheerleader? Seb, Thio.” I point them out to Bel.
Bel inches forward, arms folded protectively around himself. “Hi.”
I tug him into my side and he looks at me with a forced smile.
Seb bolts to his feet, fixing his twisted T-shirt. Oh gods, they were making out on my couch, weren’t they?
“Here’s what I don’t get,” Seb says. “You’re moving in together, right?”
I hesitate. “Yes.”
“Which is cause for celebration. My gods, O, you found someone willing to put up with your shit, and he’s cute as fuck and basically an anthropomorphized woodland creature.”
Bel mouths woodland creature?
“And yet,” Seb carries on, coming closer. “You text me all that vague shit about needing to update your security, and you come in with this weird, strained energy like someone died. What’s going on? Am I breaking out champagne or is there a body we need to hide?”
He’s joking. Sort of. Worry slips free in the way he taps his foot.
“Okay,” I start. “I’m going to need you to sit down and not freak out.”
In direct contrast to that, Thio pushes up from the couch.
I grunt. “Guys, seriously. It’ll be easier if you—”
“I’m the mortal descendant of Galaxrien Vossen.”
My head snaps down to where Bel’s still tucked up against my side, but he steps away, fisted hands unwinding from his chest and shoulders pulling back.
He looks exhausted, his hair mussed from sleeping in the car, bags under his eyes.
And now, facing Seb and Thio, he’s got that resigned look again.
Like he knows whatever’s going to happen won’t go in his favor, but he’s accepted that inevitability.
Seb and Thio are frozen. Their faces unreadable.
“My real name is Belzaroth Reynolds,” Bel continues. “And Orok agreed to be my new handler to keep me safe from the Galaxrien cultists trying to use me to resurrect him. Summon him. Free him from the pit he’s trapped in on the Demonic Plane. Whatever.”
He looks up at me, fatigue and gratitude and a lifetime of emotions colliding all at once.
“And he’s far too nice,” Bel says, talking to Seb and Thio, but looking at me.
“And I’m taking awful advantage of him. I expect you to hate me.
I want you to hate me, because then it means you’re looking out for him, and someone should be looking out for him.
I just ask that you help, not for me, but for him. So he can be safe, too.”
He releases a shuddering breath and sways, face pale, before he faces Seb and Thio again. I don’t know where he finds the strength; he’s had his entire world flipped upside down in one day, and he’s still standing.
Pride swells in my chest.
“You probably have questions,” Bel offers, his hands open.
Seb and Thio are still frozen by the couch, wide-eyed and silent. Seb’s focus shifts from Bel to me, and I’m not sure what my face is doing exactly, but he must read some micro expression that has him nodding conclusively.
He shares a look with Thio. Who kisses Seb’s cheek and dips around him.
“We need food,” Thio says.
I blink out of my stupor.
Shit. When did Bel last eat? We didn’t stop for anything after we left HQ.
“Gods, sweetheart.” I touch his arm. “You must be starving.”
He frowns, his hands clenching again. “Um. What’s happening?”
“I’m making dinner,” Thio says, puttering around my kitchen, pulling out ingredients. “Any food restrictions?”
“N-no,” Bel stammers. “What—”
Seb flops back down on the couch. “Pasta?” he calls to his fiancé.
“Duh.”
“You’re the love of my life.”
Thio glances up at him with a wink.
Bel leans closer to me. “They heard what I said, right?”