A Draught of Ash and Wine, page 12
It was evident his companion had fed. The shadows beneath Vic’s eyes were gone, the angles of his face softened. He’d exchanged the rough garments for a russet suit that complimented his auburn hair and hugged his slim form. His hands were relaxed at his sides, fingernails once again a healthy pink. Whole and hale and so beautiful Johnathan’s heart ached.
Quiet relief shone in Vic’s eyes as he approached, but he didn’t reach out to touch him. Johnathan quickly hid his hurt from the slight when Merry moved away from the table to circle him. Katherine slid onto a corner of the table, her body moving through the clutter rather than disturbing it.
“Was he this large before he transformed?” Merry peered up at Johnathan’s face. “Oh, goodness, I didn’t notice how his eyes flared before. I assume you concealed those on the train?”
“Yes, and I’m afraid he’s always been that large,” said Vic, his voice bemused. Johnathan didn’t sure their humor.
Merry snagged Johnathan’s wrist, examining his nails. “You said he was a scion of Cernunnos?” They reached up to push his lip up over his teeth. Johnathan froze, uncomfortable at the invasive contact. “My knowledge of that particular demon is somewhat limited, but he’s incredibly stabilized for someone so recently turned.” A crease formed between Merry’s brows. “You did close the rift, correct?”
“I did,” said Johnathan. He leaned his head back to speak.
The crease deepened. “How did you anchor him to this plane?”
A soft sound escaped from Katherine. “Oh, Victor, you didn’t.”
Vic looked at her. “There wasn’t any other way.”
The Geist shook her head. “How could you be so reckless? Do you know what this could do to you? To the both of you?”
Merry glanced between the two of them. “What did I miss?” Anxiety returned to Johnathan full force.
“He’s not a human, Victor! Making a blood bond with a demon.” Katherine scowled. “That sort of bond flows both ways.”
Johnathan shot Vic an alarmed look, but the man shook his head. “I haven’t felt any different since.”
“The change might not be obvious,” said Merry. They stroked a hand across their throat. “Not at first.”
Trepidation wormed through his bowels. Johnathan’s pulse pounded in his ears. Lost to the moment, the pain when the sun crawled over the horizon, and the offer fell from Vic’s lips. He’d admitted to Johnathan he didn’t know what would happen, or if it would work. Had he known it would be dangerous for him as well?
“What changes—”
“Cerunnous didn’t target him at random,” Vic interrupted. He faced Merry, his arms folded, a withdrawn expression on his face Johnathan recognized.
His teeth ground together, a lick of flame smoldering in his veins. He kept his anger to himself, unwilling to confront Vic before their current audience.
“You mentioned there was some interference from the Society? Self-righteous bastards,” sneered Merry.
“Not interference. They orchestrated the whole debacle,” said Vic.
“Oh God,” Katherine murmured. She pressed her hands to her face, form flickering in and out of visibility. “They failed so many times in the south, we thought they pulled back operations to reassess. How did we miss this?”
The flame sparked and caught; his anger fed by the old wound of his mentor’s betrayal. “They’ve done this before?”
Katherine nodded. “They’ve been trying in earnest the past few years. We’ve noted over a dozen instances of failed rifts. There were a few cases of demonic transformation, but none of them survived.”
Vic steepled his fingers, anger in the tightness of his jaw. “Why wasn’t I told of this?”
“You left,” said Merry. “There was no need for you to know.”
Ignoring them, Katherine nibbled her thumb. “Why was this attempt so different?”
His anger fizzed to nothing. “Because they played the long game.” The entirety of his existence boiled down to being a conditioned pawn in Doctor Evans’ grand experiment. The years he’d spent under the man’s tutelage, every instance of praise and punishment, his isolation and trauma were calculations, used to create a piece that could be moved into place when the conditions were right. A cultured oddity. His first assignment was so different from the other Prospectives, so much further than the others had been sent out. Coordinated for Evans to see if his machinations would yield results.
“Why are they doing this?” Johnathan looked down at his bare feet, wishing he could sink into the grass.
“We know the Society has been attempting to set events into motion for some time, but we don’t have a full picture yet,” said Merry. They leaned back against the table and sighed. “We need to send out a call.”
Vic bristled. “Who’s closest?”
Their host shot him a baleful glance. “What’s wrong, Victor, not looking forward to another sentimental reunion?”
His companion didn’t respond, jaw flexing.
“Alazar,” said their host.
Vic’s fingers twitched. The russet fabric creaked in protest. “We need to conceal Johnathan’s scent.”
Merry pursed their lips. “Help you control the Hound, help you study your foolishly made blood bond, help hide his scent.” They ticked off the demands on their fingers. “Why should I?”
Tension charged the sudden silence. It leaked from the mask Vic wore, and the mulish expression on Merry’s face. Katherine watched them, her gaze wary, but it was clear she wouldn’t interfere with their quarrel.
A lover’s quarrel. “We’ll go,” said Johnathan. His tired voice was a stone drop in the strained quiet.
“You most certainly will not,” Merry snapped. They sighed in disgust, swiping a corked brown glass bottle off the table. “Don’t let him leave the room without smearing this on his skin.”
Vic’s shoulders slumped. “Thank you, Merry.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” Merry inhaled a deep breath through their nose. “I’ll help Johnathan. Go, get out of my sight before I change my mind.”
“I’ll send out the call,” said Katherine. She paused beside Merry to brush her hand against their arm. Their host turned their back in clear dismissal, hands braced on the tabletop.
Vic stalked away without a word, not waiting for Johnathan. He watched him go, a distance physical and mental stretched with every step.
“I’ll see you off to at the stairs,” said Katherine. She fell in step beside him.
Johnathan waited until they were clear of the indoor garden before he asked the question. “Why did Merry agree to help me?” Old wounds festered between Vic and their host, ones Johnathan knew he didn’t have the delicacy to open.
“Merry knows what it’s like to have one’s autonomy taken from them,” said Katherine. Johnathan wondered what that meant, but she didn’t elaborate. They reached the central staircase far too soon. “Good night, Johnathan. Try to rest. The coming days are likely to be taxing.”
He bowed his head to her. “Good night, Katherine.”
She hid a smile behind her hand. “Such a polite demon.” Her body vanished from sight.
Johnathan shook his head, not knowing what to make of the Geist. He climbed the stairs alone, wondering if he should find Vic’s room. The thought of leaving this unresolved strain for the night left him miserable. The possibility of rejection was worse. Conflicted, he dragged himself into his rooms, shutting the door behind him.
Vic sat on the edge of his bed, fully clothed, his hands clasped in front of him.
Johnathan stared at him, his heart beating hard beneath his ribs. He didn’t like the closed mask on Vic’s face, the distance in his eyes, and he didn’t know how to breach it. His hands knotted behind his back. Vic glanced up at him. The blank mask cracked.
“I’m sorry, John,” he choked out. “I’m so sorry.” The lines of his body were rigid. Johnathan pushed away from the door and dropped to his knees in front of him.
Leaning in, he wrapped his arms around Vic’s waist. The man collapsed over Johnathan’s back, holding him tight. A soft sob ruffled Johnathan’s hair.
“What are you apologizing for, my beautiful idiot,” he murmured into Vic’s chest. A strained laugh broke the final lock in Vic’s body. He pulled Johnathan up and onto the bed, shifting their bodies to lay a kiss on his temple.
“For dragging you into this mess. Binding you to me without thought to consequences. Failing to help you. Not warning you about this place. About Merry. Take your pick,” said Vic. He sighed while fingers trailed up Johnathan’s back, eliciting an appreciative shiver.
He was so grateful Vic touched him, he didn’t immediately respond. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said. How could Vic think he’d failed him? He’d risked and given up so much since Johnathan entered his life. His stomach churned when he thought of what he brought to their bond.
Nothing, he was nothing.
Shying away from the thought, he lifted a heavy hand, casually fiddling with the buttons of Vic’s russet jacket. The sourness in his belly diffused. Warmth simmered and drifted lower. He craved contact with Vic’s smooth pale skin, desperate to push back the stress and anxiety that plagued him since they fled Cress Haven. His fingers grew more insistent, working the buttons apart to slip his hand beneath; trailed his fingers over the final layer of white silk that covered Vic’s abdomen. Muscles flexed beneath his touch.
Vic stroked his cheek, interest flaring in his eyes. “You’re not tired?”
Johnathan shook his head. He couldn’t sleep when Vic’s proximity made him combust. Vic reached for him, but Johnathan grabbed his wrists. “Will you let me…explore?”
That silvered gaze turned molten. Vic’s lips parted. “You have free rein.”
An open invitation to touch, to taste, and experience. Johnathan grinned and rolled to straddle Vic’s hips. His fingers diligently undid the fastenings of the white silk undershirt until he could push the fabric aside, baring the smooth muscles of Vic’s chest. Johnathan stared down at him, entranced by this glimpse of skin. His hand traced the ridges and dips, nails grazing over rosy flat nipples. Vic shivered. The action created a flashfire up Johnathan’s spine. His fingers moved upward, along Vic’s collarbones. He leaned forward to follow the path with his lips, the skin under his mouth a cooler temperature than his feverish body heat, but deliciously warm. Johnathan trailed open mouth kisses up Vic’s neck until their lips met, tasting and teasing one another. Vic began to sit up, hands framing Johnathan’s face.
He seized Vic’s wrists for the second time, pinning him back down on the bed. “No,” he said, his voice rough. He tried to articulate what he needed, the need to proceed on his terms.
Vic gently nipped his bottom lip. “You lead.”
Johnathan released Vic’s wrists to continue his slow exploration. His hands kneaded the tight muscles of Vic’s neck and shoulders, firm thighs cradled between his knees. The man shifted restlessly beneath him, his hard length brushing Johnathan’s inner thigh. The two locked gazes, caught up in the breathless moment.
His hands moved to the fastenings of Vic’s trousers. The tendons of Vic’s neck strained as Johnathan freed his length and ran his thumb over the velvety head. A breathy groan hailed his efforts. Vic dropped his head back against the mattress, his expression a mix of pain and pleasure. His body shook while Johnathan touched, memorizing the feel of him.
He lowered himself over Vic’s taut body and nuzzled his face against that smooth length. He wanted to give Vic the pleasure the man gifted to him, worried his inexperience would leave him unsatisfied.
Vic’s fingers tangled into his hair. “You don’t have to rush into anything you’re not ready for, John,” he said. That infinite patience galvanized him.
His lips parted, he took a tentative lick across the slit, tasting Vic’s salty sweet essence. Tracing his lips down the length, he finally took Vic’s cock into his mouth. His tongue glided on the underside, flicking along the ridges. Vic’s hips bucked before he reigned in his reaction, fingers tangling in Johnathan’s hair.
“You’re killing me, John,” Vic croaked. Johnathan paused at the words, worried he was hurting him until Vic’s grip tightened. “You feel amazing.”
Emboldened, he tried to emulate Vic’s actions from the inn. His movements were clumsy, but Vic’s reactions spurred him on, until the man’s control snapped. Vic tugged at his hair until Johnathan released him. Between one breath and the next, he was flipped to his back. Vic hovered over him. Those silver eyes burned into him before Vic crushed their mouths together.
His elegant fingers thrust into Johnathan’s pants and wrapped around his cock. Johnathan closed his eyes, moaning into Vic’s mouth. The friction of skin and cloth rapidly brought him to an edge.
A cold sweat swept over him, piercing his ardor with icy dread. Johnathan shoved himself away. Muscles seized, his pulse ratcheted to a frenzied thrum. He couldn’t breathe, lungs locked in his chest. His claws shredded the bedspread, the room a wobbling mass of shadow and light. Vic cupped Johnathan’s face, his gaze marred with worry.
“John, look at me,” Vic pleaded. His expression grew stark at the fear contorting Johnathan’s face.
In his mind, Johnathan couldn’t escape them. Faces contorted in agony, bodies piled around him. The bloody muck sucked him down.
“Talk to me,” Vic whispered. His hands stroking, tugging him out of the grim and gory memories. Johnathan didn’t deserve the comfort but he leaned into it. How was he any good to Vic like this? How could he survive like this?
He shook his head, the panic finally subdued by self-loathing, though he didn’t push Vic away. Johnathan lay in the man’s arms, soaking in those gentle touches. He wondered when Vic would grow tired of his guilt.
CHAPTER TEN
The lulling movement of Vic’s hands continued, seemingly content to lie there with him for hours. Shame soured what remained of his lust, left him drained.
“I’m sorry,” said Johnathan. Vic stilled.
“Now who is the beautiful idiot?” He cupped Johnathan’s chin, turning his face toward him. Vic’s somber gaze studied his face. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
Johnathan swallowed; his throat unbearably dry. “I don’t have the words yet.” This was true, his thoughts a jumbled mess of guilt and fear. Repulsed by the inherent violence of his new nature. The dead plagued him, the slick sensation of blood coated his hands every time he closed his eyes. Now, he wondered how long he was meant to last, what the blood bond would do to Vic or if his body would eventually burn up like the rest. He certainly didn’t feel stable.
“When you do, I’m here.” Vic pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. The contact drained the churning mess inside him, leeching poison from a wound. “You don’t have to rush into anything physical until you are ready. I am happy just like this.” The words were an antidote to his fear if Johnathan let himself accept them.
He rested his head on Vic’s shoulder. The treacherous spiral of his thoughts turned to Merry. There was a history there but Johnathan wouldn’t and couldn’t ask, wallowing in his insecurities. The least he could do was keep them to himself instead of foisting them onto Vic. Hours dripped by, the room slowly lightening with the onset of day. Vic’s body went lax, limbs loose in sleep. Johnathan pulled him closer, caged him in his arms. The smile on Vic’s lips revealed his sleep wasn’t deep. Tangled together, they rested in silence until the room fell dark with the oncoming night.
Vic stirred and lazily twined his fingers through Johnathan’s curls. “I could stay like this forever.”
There was a soft knock at the door. Vic sighed. “I’ll get it. She’s here for me.” He gently dislodged Johnathan from his shoulder, righting his clothes as he padded across the room to the door. Johnathan quickly did the same.
Katherine waited on the other side; concern etched in the lines of her washed out face.
“My apologies; when you weren’t in your room, I assumed you were here,” she said, “Unfortunately, this was too important to wait.”
Johnathan sat up. “What’s wrong?”
“There is a contingent of Society Agents in the surrounding woods.” Katherine worried her bottom lip. “Their path is too direct. I think they know we’re here.”
Vic stiffened. “How soon until Alazar arrives?”
“He’s here. He was much closer than we realized,” said Katherine. Her gaze moved to Johnathan. “Don’t leave the room without donning the salve. Alazar didn’t come alone.” She didn’t quite look Vic in the eye. “Appears to be a full family reunion tonight.”
“Thank you for the warning, Katherine,” said Johnathan. He noted the tight set of Vic’s shoulders.
She nodded. “They’re waiting downstairs. I’d hoped we could give you a longer rest, but you know how Alazar can be.” She pressed a hand to Vic’s shoulder. The contact loosened him. “Be careful, both of you.”
Vic remained at the door after she left. Johnathan roused himself from the bed, laying a hand in the same spot as the Geist. His shoulder was still cold from the contact. “Who was she talking about?”
“I can handle them,” Vic said. He glanced up at Johnathan, his expression perturbed. “I need to return to my rooms to freshen up. I left the salve on your dresser. You need to smear it along your neck like this.” He mimed the movement, swiping a wide path across his neck and chest. “Wait for me?”
Johnathan nodded. Vic pressed a firm, urgent kiss to his mouth, anxiety imparting a touch of bitterness to his scent. He shut the door with a muted click behind him, a final silent ask for Johnathan to wait.
The innocuous bottled salve sat on top of the dresser. Johnathan pulled the cork. The odor made his eyes water, the initial punch was an odd woodsy musk that smelled heavily of pine and wet fur. Swallowing a cough, he smeared it on as Vic instructed, curious what his smelled like to a vampire. Hesper said the Nether still clung to him. His memory of the scent was faint, but the pungent combination of sulfur and smoke was unpleasant. What did the salve make him smell like now?
