Chapter Twenty-One
The last ward guarding Valerian’s shop broke without any fanfare.
One moment, Valistair’s fingers carefully unknotted the magic, the next his hands fell to his sides, still for the first time in hours.
Exhaustion hung over him like a cloak—his shoulders slumped and his eyes drooped.
He swayed gently and might have fallen if Penn hadn’t caught him with an arm around his waist.
Seeing Valerian so weak was unnerving. Even when he’d passed out from magical exhaustion after fighting Gavril, his muscled body still felt strong and capable. Now he felt as thin as liquid, like he would slip straight through Penn’s embrace and drain away.
“Don’t touch him,” Niall snapped, scurrying over to them. He pried Penn’s arm off Valistair, forcefully taking his place. Niall grunted as the other mage’s weight settled on him, a heavier burden for him than it had been for Penn. “Here, drink this.” He held a vial up to Valistair’s lips.
The mage closed his eyes and gulped the potion greedily.
Penn watched with a small measure of guilt, wondering if that was one of the potions he’d tampered with. He’d refilled the vials with water, so it shouldn’t harm Valistair, but it wouldn’t help him either. Please tell me I didn’t just kill Val before I could save him.
Nothing happened. Valistair still looked as weak and tired as before.
Niall glowered at the bottle and tossed it to the side. The glass crashed against the stone, spraying tiny shards everywhere. He ignored it, leaving it there for anyone to stumble upon and hurt themselves. “The mercenary should have supplies.”
Penn waited a few steps back and watched in silence as Niall fumbled with the door handle and shoved his way inside.
“What the fuck? Where … where is everything?” Forgetting for a moment that he was the only thing holding up his master, Niall released Valistair, who grabbed onto a nearby shelf to steady himself.
The shop had two floors with three main areas. The backroom they had entered was Valerian’s workshop. A desk pressed against one wall, the surface clear of any items. Bare shelves and cabinets lined the other wall.
Niall grabbed one of the cabinet drawers and yanked it open, leaning over it until he almost fell inside. From his snarl of frustration, the drawers were empty. He shoved the drawer back in with a harsh crack and stomped toward the door leading to the rest of the shop.
Penn stepped up next to Valistair and steadied him, holding him up as they walked to the desk chair. As soon as he sat down, Valistair closed his eyes and leaned his head back. After a moment, he murmured, “This would be an excellent time.”
“Excellent time for what?”
“For you to escape. Or kill me. Niall’s distracted, I’m weakened—you won’t get another opportunity like this one.”
Penn crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “The only way to kill you is to kill Valerian, and I haven’t given up on him yet.” The mage already knew his motivation, there was no reason to play coy.
The mage laughed, a dry rasp. “Such loyalty. If only it were for me instead of him.” He peeled his eyes open and peered around the room. His lips moved, shaping silent words.
Penn’s breath hitched as he watched the mage’s strange behavior. He’d guided Alistair and Niall here specifically hoping that something in the shop could help Valerian escape his mental prison. Did the plan actually work? Is Val waking up?
The tip of the mage’s tongue peeked out and traced his bottom lip as he said, voice faint enough to get lost in a breeze, “Lick it up.”
The words startled Penn. So far, the mage’s advances toward him had been soft and subtle, toeing the line between threat and seduction.
The blunt order came out of nowhere. It also didn’t match with the last time Val had broken free.
There was no blood, no desperation, just a hazy, faraway look in his eye.
What are you seeing, Val? Penn looked around the room in confusion. The last time he was here, it’d been filled with raw materials and half-completed spells, all of it gone now. Not much remained to spark a memory except for the furniture.
And Penn himself.
Penn and Valerian had met under odd circumstances.
Penn needed to contact Adelaide as quickly as possible, and Val was an old acquaintance of Griselda’s who happened to be nearby.
Penn didn’t have enough gold to pay for Valerian’s services, so he’d offered himself instead.
Penn had knelt before Valerian and sucked his cock, relentlessly teasing him as he proved a skilled tongue was worth more than gold.
It had been an easy transaction they both enjoyed.
When Penn needed help again, he knew the magic he wanted would cost more than just his tongue.
Spend tonight with me, and I’ll go with you to save the king.
Valerian made the most of their night together.
They hadn’t quite fucked on every surface in the shop, but they’d come close.
Penn didn’t remember when they’d moved to the backroom or why, but he did remember the potion.
Exhausted, Penn’s arms fell from around Valerian’s neck and his back thumped against the desk. Valerian’s cock was still inside of him, hot and hard, stretching his hole to its limits. At least Valerian had stopped moving for the time being, thank the gods for small mercies.
Val leaned forward and traced a line along the inside of Penn’s arm until their fingers met and intertwined.
He kissed their joined hands, the soft gesture so different from the rough bites he’d peppered over Penn’s skin.
Not that Valerian had gotten away unscathed.
One particularly deep bite mark on his shoulder had already bruised a lush purple.
“Tired so soon?” Val murmured, his voice rough and husky.
Penn laughed in disbelief. The sun had set long ago. What madman called several hours ‘soon’? “At the rate we’re going, my body will never be the same.”
“Good,” Valerian said, circling his hips and drawing a long groan from Penn. “I want you to remember the shape of me.”
“You’re a beast.” He meant the word to be light and teasing but it came out as a hoarse accusation.
Valerian stilled, then slowly pulled out and away from Penn.
The temperature of the room dropped without Valerian’s heat inside him. Penn pushed himself up on his elbows and watched Valerian move about the room. His erection still stood at full attention, so he couldn’t have been that injured by Penn’s words.
Valerian grabbed a bottle from one of the shelves and pulled the cork out with his teeth, spitting it across the room. Eyes locked on Penn, he took a long draw from the bottle, throat bobbing suggestively. Some of the contents spilled past his lips and down his throat, leaving a slick trail.
Once he finished, he offered the bottle to Penn, who eyed it warily. “What is it?”
“A simple potion that should replenish your energy and ease any discomfort.”
A sweet and earthy scent wafted from the bottle. Since Valerian had drunk from it first, Penn trusted it to be safe, yet he hesitated. “And what is this going to cost me?”
Valerian snorted and waved away his concern. “I’m not charging you. It’s for my benefit as much as yours.”
That was enough reassurance for Penn. He reached out, not for the bottle, but for Valerian, yanking him forward. Gazing up at Valerian through his lashes, Penn slipped his tongue out and slowly licked the potion straight from Val’s skin. The sweet yet herby taste was tempered by the salt of sweat.
Valerian raised the bottle and tipped more over himself, letting it drip down his chest toward his stomach. Arching an eyebrow in challenge, he said in a husky voice, “Lick it up.”
Penn trailed his tongue over Valerian’s body, tracing the rise and fall of his muscles.
When he reached Valerian’s nipple, he sucked it into his mouth and swirled his tongue around the stiff point.
As his tongue worked, he traced a hand down Valerian’s back, curious to see his reaction, to see if he was interested in switching roles for their next round.
Penn cupped Valerian’s ass, kneading it gently, a silent question.
Valerian didn’t stop Penn’s wandering hand or scold his impertinence. He only chuckled and twisted his hand through Penn’s dark hair. “Some other time,” he promised. Then he kissed Penn, the potion’s sweetness still lingering on his lips.
That night had been the first of many, leading to a relationship that was uncertain even before a mad mage invaded Val’s mind.
“The memories of you linger close to the surface, unguarded,” the mage said, his voice drawing Penn’s attention back to him.
“Is that good or bad?” Penn asked, aiming for dry, but his voice broke on the last syllable.
Before the mage could answer, Niall stormed back into the room. He grabbed the collar of Penn’s shirt and yanked him forward. “Where is everything? Where did he hide it all?”
Spittle splashed against Penn’s face, and he closed one eye to blink it away. “Val packed up the shop before we left.”
The color drained from Niall’s face and his hand tightened on Penn’s shirt until it choked him. “His satchel … he didn’t have it at the manor. Where did he hide it?”
“He didn’t hide it.”
“Then where. Is. It?”
“It burned. Everything’s gone.” Do you really think you would have gotten the upper hand on us if Val had access to his magic? Deciding not to antagonize Niall further, Penn kept that question to himself.
Niall’s hands quivered. He said through gritted teeth, “You’re lying.”
“No, he isn’t,” Valistair said, finally pushing himself to his feet. “I’ve seen the memories. The mercenary brought his life’s work with him and lost it all in one night. A devastating tragedy for any mage.”
“Then …” Niall’s grip loosened, and Penn slipped from his grasp. His hand closed uselessly on empty air. “Then why did we come here?”
“It was never his scrolls or trinkets I sought,” the mage said as he stepped out of the workroom and into the main shop. “It was his secrets.”