Chapter 39
39
Z ac led Sidney around the conservatory twice, while Sidney ate petit fours and asked asinine questions about plants. He was starting to feel the effects of the scotch and the cocktails, the gentle haze of alcohol fuzzing the edge of his memory, so that on their second lap, he had to ask the names of some plants a second time.
“That’s a jack-in-the-bush.”
“I thought you said it was a pitcher plant?” Sidney didn’t actually care. He’d only remembered ‘pitcher plant’ because it sounded good to say. Pitcher plant. Jonas ought to plant one in his garden. He’d have room with all the goldenrod gone.
“Ah, yes. Well, a jack-in-the-bush is a type of pitcher plant.” Zac might have been full of shit about plants, but Sidney didn’t really care. His skin was warm, like Jonas’s. And Sidney had begun to lean heavily on him as they neared the seating area again. Zac had long fingernails, almost claw-like, and Sidney was really only thinking about what they might feel like digging into his skin. The way Jonas had clutched at him had awakened something in Sidney, that was all. The way he had said Sidney’s name with so much wanting.
“Have you ever worked much with goldenrod?” Sidney asked.
“Ah,” Zac smirked as though Sidney had made a joke. “No, I can’t say as I have.”
“The root system is dense.” Sidney gestured with his hands. “Expansive. Once it takes root it can really dominate the space.”
“Fascinating,” Zac’s voice was patronizing in a way that Sidney didn’t like. “Do you have an interest in particularly dominating plants?”
That was… stupid. So stupid actually that it had the opposite effect of the intended innuendo. Eugh. Sidney imagined Jonas snorting in derision. ‘Come on, Quince. You can do better than that.’
He could have, normally, but he was drunk. And he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about Jonas. And he didn’t need to impress Zac. He just needed to forget.
When Zac bowed his head toward Sidney, Sidney kissed him. He tried to relish the aftertaste of the citrus and honey on Zac’s tongue. But Jonas tasted better. Zac’s arm snaked around Sidney’s waist, and Sidney let himself be moved.
It was probably some kind of sign that every coherent thought Sidney had was about Jonas still. It was infuriating. Jonas was firmer than Zac. Broader, heavier. Kinder, more handsome.
Moving was easier than thinking. Sidney knew the steps of the dance. He didn’t have to feel anything about them. He didn’t have to miss the way Jonas touched him and teased him and wanted him. He didn’t have to think about anything aside from pleasure. His own. Not Zac’s. He didn’t know Zac. He didn’t care about Zac. And no one cared about Sidney. Sidney knew that. Had been painfully reminded earlier that very day.
Sidney was on top of Zac on the chaise. They’d gotten there wordlessly. Zac dug his fangs against the skin of Sidney’s throat and that was good. Like Jonas. Sidney groaned, grinding down.
“Good boy. Just like that.” Zac didn’t quite sound like Zac. His voice was rougher. Deeper. Something in Sidney balked against the praise. He wanted it to be Jonas’s voice. Jonas’s hands untucking the back of his shirt. Zac’s long pointed nails dragged up Sidney’s spine and Sidney shivered. “That’s it. Feels good, doesn’t it?” It did. Didn’t it?
Not really.
Before Sidney could say no, Zac’s tongue was in his mouth, hot and long. Sidney trembled, some last sliver of coherence in him desperate to regain control. This wasn’t right. He didn’t want it. They weren’t even undressed, and his skin was so sensitive, hot, tingling that touching almost didn’t feel good. Like he’d overindulged and nausea was about to set in.
Sidney pulled back. He rested his forehead against Jonas—no, Zac’s, trying to catch his breath. A moment was all he needed. Just to come up for air. Zac chuckled.
“Alright?”
“No.” Sidney’s heart was still racing. Were all demons so hot? Jonas had been warm, always. Sidney liked the heat of him. Sleeping beside Jonas had thawed Sidney out. Softened the walls Sidney had built around his heart after all the times he’d tried and failed to fall in love. Walls that he desperately missed now that they were gone.
But he could rebuild them.
Zac stroked Sidney through Sidney’s trousers. Sidney told himself he liked it, even though he didn’t feel like he liked it. When Sidney leaned forward and bit down on the curve of Zac’s neck, Zac growled in pleasure. It was a good sound, similar enough Jonas’s growl that Sidney could pretend it was him. He was going to pretend it was him.
Sidney bit him again. Jonas growled again, and Sidney moaned, grinding down against him as the door to the conservatory opened. He didn’t bother looking up. He didn’t know any of the people at this stupid party. He’d never see them again, and they could watch if they wanted.
Sidney could feel Jonas turn his head, the rumble of a strange voice against Sidney’s lips, Sidney’s mouth still on his throat.
“Can we help you?”
“Sidney?” Jonas’s voice cracked.
The real Jonas.
Sidney’s Jonas.
The one beneath him wasn’t real. Too sharp and too small. The heat of him stung, and Jonas had never hurt Sidney. Not like this. Jonas was here, and Sidney was desperate to put his thoughts in order. The more he strained to find clarity, the more things clouded, his head throbbing. Why had he done this? To get back at Jonas? To stop himself from feeling things? But now everything was magnified and muddled.
He didn’t care if Jonas’s feelings got hurt, did he? Jonas had broken Sidney’s heart, goddammit.
But Sidney had gone too far. He had to say something. There were tears behind his eyes and his head was spinning. He felt sick. He wanted to go back to the cottage. To sleep. And then maybe later they could talk, and?—
Zac’s grip tightened on the back of Sidney’s thigh, sending a searing, burning sensation up Sidney’s leg. A hornet sting that Sidney tried to jerk away from. But Sidney’s body wouldn’t move.
“We’re a bit busy at the moment.” Zac sounded prim again. Sidney stayed still, frozen in place. His arms were shaking with the strain. He couldn’t move off Zac’s chest. “Is he yours or something?” Sidney tried to speak, even though the question wasn’t directed at him. His tongue stuck behind his teeth. Sidney’s stomach soured. He jerked his shoulders. No movement. “Is he yours?” Zac repeated.
Say ‘yes.’ Please say ‘yes.’
Jonas didn’t answer. Maybe he was gone. Zac’s fang nicked the shell of Sidney’s ear, as he sniffed Sidney’s neck.
“I don’t smell a mark.”
Jonas hadn’t marked Sidney? But Sidney had thought?—
A sudden sharp pain made it impossible to put two thoughts together. Sidney’s body numbed, a limb left in one position for too long, held in a roaring fire. Zac’s mouth curled into a smile; his tongue flicked against the edge of Sidney’s jaw.
“He doesn’t want to see you.” No! No, that wasn’t true. “And you don’t have a claim on him. So why don’t you fuck off?”
Sidney’s moan echoed in Jonas’s ears so loudly, that Jonas couldn’t think.
He didn’t know the demon beneath Sidney. He was long-limbed and his horns and his nails had been filed to sharp points. When he turned his head to Jonas and smiled, he could see the demon’s fangs. The creature winked as he ran his tongue across the fang tips.
“Sidney.” It was all Jonas could say. What else was there? But Sidney wouldn’t even look at him.
Jonas had gotten the whole thing wrong. Sidney hadn’t come back for him. He’d just come back because he had nowhere else to go. And Jonas hadn’t said the right things. He hadn’t looked right or been right. He’d lied. And now?—
The other demon spoke, and Jonas couldn’t hear him. Sidney wouldn’t even look at him. The demon squeezed Sidney’s thigh and before Jonas could behead him, Sidney whimpered.
Jonas’s whole body went rigid with hate. Was Sidney enjoying this? Was he pretending like Jonas wasn’t even there? Mocking him?
You deserve it. You deserve this.
“Is he yours or something?” Yes. No. “I don’t smell a mark.”
Jonas hadn’t marked him. Of course he hadn’t. He didn’t have any fucking magic left, and he’d lied and ruined everything over nothing. Jonas had been a fool. And Sidney couldn’t even look at him. Wouldn’t speak to him. They were finished.
“Why don’t you fuck off?”
So Jonas did.
He was out the door and down the hall, and then, thank the Gods for Asterion’s sobriety spell, Jonas dipped into the narrow servants’ hall. He pushed past people carrying trays and he just still couldn’t hear anything besides Sidney’s whimper.
You pushed him though, didn’t you? Straight into the arms of another man. Another demon, no less. He knows about the mark and doesn’t care. You lied. You deserve this.
Did he though? Did anyone?
The cold night air rushed into his lungs as Jonas stormed outside and across the lawn toward the cottage. He was so furious he couldn’t think straight. He needed to destroy something. Shatter some plates, punch a wall. Something. Anything. Jonas’s fist tightened around the strap of Sidney’s satchel and, for the first time since he’d stepped into the conservatory, he remembered he was carrying it.
Jonas stopped and stared down at the bag. The top of Sidney’s notebook was still peeking out, and Jonas yanked it free.
He stared down at the notebook in his hands. All of Sidney’s work. Months of studies and notes. Fuck him. Fuck that stupid man and his dissertation and all his questions. You always did love having a student. Gods. Jonas was so predictable. He should have known it would all end like this. It always did.
Jonas strode toward the edge of the cliff, his blunted claws leaving divots in the cover of the notebook. He hated humans. He hated how callous they were. Self-serving, power-hungry, rushing in like a hurricane and destroying Jonas’s life before rushing back out to sea again. It happened every time, didn’t it? Past indicators of future results. Sidney didn’t deserve to know about magic. He didn’t deserve any of the things Jonas had told him. Fickle, stupid Sidney. Couldn’t he see that Jonas loved him? Didn’t he know?
As he reached the cliffs, Jonas could hear the steady rush of waves below, promising that they would take away the notebook. He’d never have to see it again. He’d never see Sidney again.
He hated Sidney for breaking his heart. And he hated himself for breaking Sidney’s heart first.
Jonas’s hands were shaking. The notebook was open, Sidney’s hurried, slanted script, barely visible in the moonlight. Jonas had already destroyed so many good things today. What was one more. Beneath his fingertips, he could feel the indentations Sidney’s pen had made on the page. He squinted down at it in the dark.
Peregrine the Traveler is made up of seven stars, two almost parallel lines, representing the demon and his staff.
Sidney had sketched the constellation on the page, Jonas’s stars, in neat lines. When Jonas had left home, when Jonas had left the military, when Edmund had nearly killed him in the caves they’d built together, it was always Peregrine that Jonas had come back to. Maybe it was just a story, but Peregrine had been the sort of creature that Jonas had always wanted to be. A knowledge seeker. A good person. Not a creature of destruction.
And Jonas could no more destroy Sidney’s notebook than he could hate Sidney. He loved Sidney, and he should have told him. And now it was too late.
Jonas retraced his steps in the dark. He found Sidney’s bag, and shoved the notebook back inside it.
Then he walked back to his truck and got inside. He couldn’t be in the cottage knowing Sidney was curled around another man fifty yards away. Especially not when it was Jonas who had pushed him there. So, Jonas drove to the end of the driveway of Elmmond House and hung Sidney’s bag on the post box. Verne would find it and deliver it to him. And that was as close to good as Jonas could be.
Sidney heard the door to the conservatory open and close.
No. No. Fuck. No.
Sidney was crying, and he should have been moving. Shoulders shaking. Sobbing. Anything. But he wasn’t even blinking. Zac’s chin brushed against Sidney’s nose, as he looked down at him.
“Oh,” Zac cooed, the tip of his tongue darting out to lick a tear off Sidney’s cheek. “Too bad. He seemed nice.”