XI
The lines around Gunner’s eyes were more relaxed in sleep, but otherwise, his expression was remarkably unchanged. Still. Unperturbed. Maybe just a touch serene. Which I found incredible, considering what had transpired between us a few hours earlier.
But, I supposed, that was exactly the sort of person Gunner was.
He didn’t hold a grudge. He wasn’t easily hurt. And he didn’t lie. He simply said what he felt was necessary, in that polite yet brutal way he had about himself, and that was it. Gunner had told me exactly how he felt, called me out on lies he considered worth acknowledging, and—
You’re loved .
—and then he’d admitted something that I couldn’t ever imagine saying with such frankness as Gunner had.
He’d set me on my feet after that, wiped my face dry, and told me he needed to sleep.
I’d managed to rest a bit myself, but for at least an hour, I’d been fitfully tossing as I replayed the exchange over and over in my mind.
I had no doubt that Gunner had been sincere in his declaration, but what exactly did it mean for us?
And had he noticed that I hadn’t… really admitted to anything?
At least, not the genesis of my troubles—past, current, and undoubtedly future.
“You’re a very loud thinker,” Gunner murmured.
I glanced at him. His eyes were still closed. “Sorry.”
“What’s wrong?”
“You don’t already know?”
“Well, I haven’t opened my eyes yet.”
“You’re a bit of a smart aleck.”
Gunner smiled a little, and it was devastatingly handsome. He reached out, found my face, and stroked my jawline. “Are you upset?”
“Embarrassed,” I corrected.
His eyes snapped open and zeroed in on me. “By what I said?”
“What? No . Heaven’s no. That was….” I struggled for the correct response as Gunner remained silent and let me slowly hang myself. “Er… nice.” God save me . “I meant me—my behavior.”
Gunner said nothing as he studied me. I had to resist the desire to squirm as he picked me apart. After what was only a few seconds—but could have been a century, as far as I was concerned—he tugged me forward and rolled onto his back, the momentum forcing me to straddle his leg.
“Tell me one thing,” he said, unbuttoning the rest of my shirt. “And don’t lie to me. Anyone else, but not me.” Gunner tugged the shirt free, tossed it aside, then did the same with my undergarment so he could splay his hands against my bare chest. “Understand?”
I didn’t trust my voice, so I simply nodded.
Gunner’s fingers danced along my ribs, lower still, until he could slip them into the waist of my trousers. “What level do you actually test at?”
“There’s no way to be certain. The examination only goes to five.”
“But high enough that it was necessary to intentionally botch your results for the FBMS?” Gunner popped the button on my trousers, then drew his hand down to touch me through the heavy fabric.
I gulped and said on the exhale of a shaky breath, “Yes. The Caster Regulation Act—I came forward because I decided it was—God, ah —better to keep my enemy close.”
Gunner removed his hand from where the attention was appreciated and lightly combed the hair at my temple. “And this?” His other hand settled on my backside, kneaded a bit, and encouraged me to move.
I rubbed myself against Gunner’s thigh as I said, “Overtaxed myself, as Ms. Zelda said.”
“How?”
“Gunner—”
“How?”
“C-casters have this—we call it a tap. When the tap’s open, there’s the take of raw magic in exchange for lifeforce energy.
When the body reaches a point of physical exhaustion, the tap closes.
” I was still rubbing myself against him, watching as Gunner hastily unbuttoned his own waistcoat and shirt.
“It works like a muscle. It can be trained to handle more—some casters manage to go up one new level.”
“But?” Gunner asked as he laid bare his hard and hairy chest.
I reached forward to dig my fingers into his skin, rubbed the inside of my wrists against the black hair, and shuddered. “My tap never closes. Wh-when I surpass the threshold, it leaves physical indicators.”
“It’s different from the aether spell you performed in Arizona.”
I nodded and said, “Aether is just a pain in the ass. Reverse spells make the world distorted for a while, is all.” I drew closer, enough that I could lean over Gunner and bite his neck. He gasped loudly, and it sent a thrill straight to my balls.
“Harder,” Gunner growled, and he arched his back when I obliged. “What about architects?”
I let up on his neck—I’d left a deep purple mark that was unbearably exciting—and asked, “What about them?”
“Can they surpass level five?”
“They do,” I confirmed. I sat up, yanked Gunner’s braces from his shoulders, unbuttoned his trousers, and tugged them low enough to expose his hardened prick.
“Gravity spells were constructed by an architect who surpassed the threshold of wind magic.” I kissed Gunner and dipped my tongue into his mouth the way he did with me.
“I can only cast what architects have woven into the atmosphere.”
Gunner made quick work of my trousers and drawers. He shoved them to my thighs, spat into his hand, and reached down to stroke us together. “And what casters can perform gravity spells?”
“Liars,” I answered around a gasp. I had no inhibitions left in me and humped desperately against Gunner. “Now you tell me.”
“What’s that?”
“When we met—how did you know? That I was stronger than suggested?”
“I’ve worked a time or two with the magic community,” he said breathlessly.
“You were dispatched without a partner. You were proficient in aether. Your— Jesus, Gillian —wind spell was strong enough to carry a full-grown man.” Gunner sucked hard on one finger before reaching around and pressing it against my hole.
I jumped but he stilled me.
“Just a bit—there, is that okay?”
It was an… odd sensation. Not bad, per se, but strange.
I struggled to wrap my brain around the concept of something considerably thicker than a finger being at all comfortable, let alone pleasurable, despite some of my crudest fantasies.
I tried to imagine enjoying receiving such attention, like the throes of passion Gunner had been in the night before, and the daydream was coming up short when finally faced with the reality.
But then Gunner pressed deeper, angled his touch, and a sweat broke out across my entire body.
It was like pinpricks of light—hundreds— thousands —consuming me from the inside out.
Gunner brought me down into a kiss to silence my cries, and then I was coming and so was he and it was perfect.
Gunner rested his hand firmly on one bare cheek, stroking in an almost possessive manner. After he caught his breath, he asked, “Do you feel gross?”
“No.”
“I don’t expect you to think differently of yourself overnight.”
“I know.”
“Only that you try.”
I sat back on my knees and tugged my trousers into place.
“We should go. Addison said Tick Tock is holed up somewhere around Mulberry Bend, and after his warehouse was blown up, who’s to say what his next move might be?
I want to visit the docks as well—poke around a bit and see if we can narrow down the origin of these packages.
Perhaps glean some intelligence on that Weaver fellow too, if Lady Luck is smiling upon us today. ”
Gunner didn’t say a word as he wiped his stomach clean with the corner of the starched bedsheet. He got to his feet, pulled his trousers on, and opened the window wide. A cold rush of January air helped to quickly alleviate the smell of sex from the rented room.
I finished tucking my shirt in, tugged my braces over my shoulders, put my suit coat on, and collected my belongings from the bureau top—all carefully aligned by Gunner.
I paused on the purple-tinted goggles, fingered the worn brass, worried a minute dent along the bridge.
“Constantine?” When I looked up, Gunner was staring at me from across the room, silently buttoning his waistcoat.
“You were serious about what you said earlier.”
“Of course.”
“So what does it mean for… us?”
“What do you want it to mean?”
I was gripping the goggles now. “I think it would be difficult for me to see you with others at this point.” Gunner began walking toward me while putting his suit coat on, and I hastened to add, “But I would understand. I should like to find happiness with you, but I’m not nearly as comfortable with it all as you are.
I am trying, but it might take me… some time.
We’re also liable to be apart more than we’d be together.
And let’s not forget you work to actively undermine all of the laws I represent. ”
Gunner didn’t agree or disagree as he reached into the inner pocket of his suit.
I expected Black Jack and continued silence before I’d eventually come full circle, tell him to forget I’d said anything, and we’d leave it at that.
But instead, Gunner held up the receipt from Bartholomew Industries that I carried on my person like a religious talisman.
I touched my own breast before reaching inside the empty pocket. “How did—?”
“It slipped from your pocket as I was undressing you last night.” He eyed the folded note. “It’s rather worn out.”
“Paper doesn’t have much of a life expectancy.”
“Why did you keep it?”
I felt myself flush and struggled for nonchalance. “You—you said you were mine.”
Gunner smiled. He tugged back the lapel of my coat, tucked the receipt carefully into my pocket, then patted my chest. “That’s right.”