by Allie Therin
Jade touched his arm. “We wouldn’t know what to do with ourselves if we didn’t have a to-do list.”
Zhang snorted softly.
Ellis wandered back to them from a group of shaken-looking guards. “Guards are more than happy to corroborate any story we want to the police. They’re just grateful Becker’s dead. You freed a lot of people tonight, Ace. Glad you remembered how to shoot, because for a man who hates it, you’re damn good at it.”
Arthur took a breath through his nose.
“Hey,” said Ellis. “It was self-defense. He was trying to use you to kill me. He was going to use you to kill your little sweetheart. Good riddance.”
Christ. Arthur couldn’t even bear to look at Rory. He nodded stiffly.
Ellis put his arm around Gwen’s shoulders. “We’re going back to England, after tonight,” he said. “We’ll find Sebastian. He deserves to know he’s finally free.”
Gwen leaned into Ellis. “You all should go now.”
Jade and Zhang exchanged a glance.
“Let us handle this,” said Gwen. “We have ten of Zeppler’s henchmen happy to corroborate our story. We have each other.” She looked at Jade, but her head was tilted meaningfully toward Arthur. “Some of you need to rest.”
“Oh! Yes, yes, of course,” Jade said. “After all, Rory uses an alias—probably best he doesn’t meet the police anywhere. And Arthur, you’ll definitely have to come with us, because we need you to drive back to Paris.”
“You’re both completely transparent,” Arthur muttered, but it would be better if the police didn’t get too interested in Rory.
Rory was right behind him as they made their way across the driveway to the Delage Arthur had stolen. As Arthur reached for the driver’s door, there was a soft throat clearing behind them.
Arthur looked over to see Gwen standing alone. She was staring very hard at him, as she had in London.
“Gwen?” he quietly prompted.
She met his eyes, and she didn’t look despairing. She looked wonderstruck. “Rory’s magic sparks so brightly when it’s active, like lightning in a bottle. It makes it difficult to be sure what I’m seeing, and I wanted to be sure about this before I said anything.”
Arthur furrowed his brow. “Said anything about what?”
“About what’s happened between your aura and Rory’s magic.”
Oh no. Arthur’s chest clenched as Rory’s eyes widened. “Gwen, what do you see?” Rory said urgently.
“The link between you is gone.”
Arthur’s heart plummeted. No more of Rory’s magic—
“No,” Rory said, sounding devastated, just as Arthur blurted, “That can’t be—”
“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t finish,” Gwen said quickly. “The link between you is gone. But Rory’s magic is still there, because in place of the link, some of it has bonded permanently to your aura.”
Arthur stilled.
Gwen smiled. “I’ve never seen it before. His magic has entwined with your aura, and filled in all the tears like mortar strengthening a fortress wall. It’s permanent, it’s a part of you now. You’re not going to be able to do magic—but you’re going to live.” She looked at Rory. “And a little bit of Arthur’s aura is in your magic.”
Arthur’s eyes widened. “What, really?”
“It’s grounding the lightning,” she said. “You’ll probably have more luck controlling your ring and psychometry now, because Arthur’s aura will keep your magic from overwhelming you.”
Rory touched his chest. “I can’t feel where he is anymore,” he said, sounding distressed.
“No,” she said quietly. “Because you’re not linked. You’ve both given a part of yourself to strengthen the other, and even if you walk away, your gifts can’t be undone.”
Arthur glanced at Rory, and saw his own surprise mirrored in his face.
“Take care of each other,” said Gwen, and went back to the waiting Ellis.
Chapter Thirty
Jade sat up front with Arthur on the drive to Paris while Rory climbed in the back with Zhang. The convertible made it too loud to talk, but the air was warm, and the stars stretched endlessly over their heads as they drove through the empty countryside.
Rory watched as the country became the outskirts of Paris, and then the city. His body ached, but his mind kept replaying what Gwen had seen.
Arthur had given Rory some of his aura. To keep.
Forever.
Arthur parked the Delage a few blocks from the cabaret. Jade offered to call and report its location to the police, so it could be returned to the driver.
They left Jade and Zhang at the phone in the cabaret’s packed lobby. A man was singing in French, drums and a piano accompanying him.
Arthur’s steps were jerky and hesitant, but he followed as Rory led the way upstairs, to their tiny room. They’d need food, and Rory wanted to sleep for about a million years.
But first, he wanted to talk.
His newsboy cap was where he’d left it, upside down on the desk by the open window overlooking the Paris rooftops. The night breeze wafting into their room ruffled his hair.
Maybe with Arthur’s aura in his magic, he’d have enough control over the wind to cool their room in summer. That was a marvel, even thinking about using his magic for something so delicate.
Then again, maybe he shouldn’t be using fifteenth-century magic as his personal fan. He pulled off the Tempest Ring and set it carefully inside the cap and then took a seat on the edge of the bed.
Arthur was still standing frozen in the doorway.
“C’mere,” said Rory. “C’mon, Ace, come talk to me.”
But Arthur didn’t move. “How can you want to?” he whispered. “How can you even stand to be around me? I hit you—”
“No,” said Rory. “Becker hit me. You were just his weapon.”
Arthur bit his lip. “Perhaps,” he said, voice tight with pain. “But it’s not that easy—”
“Course it’s not,” Rory said, more gently. “But you’re a victim too. He hurt you in the worst way he could’ve.”
Arthur winced. He looked down the hall, then stepped into their room and carefully closed the door. “I’d have taken a thousand blows myself before one swing at you,” he said, still turned to the side, not looking at Rory. “And I don’t understand how you can bear my company.”
“I keep telling you,” said Rory. “I keep telling everyone. If there’s something I get, it’s magic screwing with you.”
He rested his hands on the bed behind him, leaning back. “I lost three weeks of my life to magic in that asylum. I lost countless hours and days after that. When I first got to Hell’s Kitchen, Mrs. B would have to watch me scry and shake me out of it if I went too long. We would’ve given up on the whole antiques shop plan if her clairvoyant sister hadn’t promised us that I was gonna get better control.”
He softened his voice. “So when I say, it wasn’t you, it was magic, I know that all the way down to my bones. Because magic had ruined my life. Until I met you.”
Arthur’s shoulders were still hunched. But finally, he looked over at Rory, really looked at him, with haunted eyes.
“C’mere,” Rory said again.
Arthur covered his face. “Oh Christ, I’m doing it again, I’m making you comfort me when you’re the victim.”
“We’re both victims,” said Rory. “C’mon.”
Arthur huffed. But he didn’t argue. After a long moment, he took the one step to the bed, stopping before he and Rory touched and standing uncertainly in front of him.
Rory reached for his hand and Arthur let him take it. As gently as he could, he ran his fingers over Arthur’s knuckles. The blood was gone, washed off at the manor, but even clean, they were scraped and bruised, and Rory had to push down a surge of anger that someone had turn
ed his kind man into a weapon. “My magic’s in you forever now.”
Arthur hesitated. “Is that—how do you feel about that?”
“I’m so glad,” Rory said, throat tight. “I’m so glad you’re gonna be okay. You asshole, you should’ve told me, I could’ve lost you.”
He pulled, and Arthur let himself be moved, tugged all the way down to the bed next to Rory. Rory put his arms around Arthur’s neck and hugged him tight. “And I get why you didn’t know how to tell me,” he said hoarsely. “But I would’ve kept the link in you forever. I would’ve been happy to. You know that, right? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I was never gonna leave.”
“But I didn’t want to force you to stay.” Arthur sounded so uncertain, his hands coming up like they wanted to hug Rory, and then dropping like he wouldn’t let himself. “I didn’t want to be your burden—”
Rory pulled back to look Arthur in the eyes. “Baby,” he said, dropping his voice lower and imitating Arthur’s accent, reaching for Arthur’s words from New York that he was gonna carry in his heart forever, “do I look like a man who feels burdened?”
Arthur broke into the first hint of a smile he’d had all night. He closed his eyes, shaking his head softly. “You are such a shit.”
“How do I look?” Rory said pointedly.
Arthur opened his eyes, so blue, even in the dim light. “Happy,” he whispered.
Rory kissed him, their lips moving together, his heart swelling with so much happiness that his eyes stung hot. “You gave me some of your aura,” he said against Arthur’s lips.
“I’m sorry,” Arthur whispered. “I’m mundane as a rock and you’ve got me in your beautiful magic—”
“Are you kidding me?” Rory pulled back again. “Ace, you’re saving me right back.”
“But I’ve changed you—”
“That’s what love does,” said Rory. “The best kind of love makes us stronger by ourselves too. Meeting you changed my life. It changed me. And I like me better now.”
Arthur stilled. “Love.” He hesitantly reached for Rory’s face, then quickly dropped his hand to his lap before he made contact.
Rory put his hand over Arthur’s heart. “You don’t have to be a fortress, bello. Your aura needed help and my magic was there, right? The rest of me’s right here too.”
Arthur bit his lip again. “I don’t want the Puppeteer to have control over my life, even in death,” he said, quiet and tight. “But I keep seeing that moment you hit the railing. The look on your face—”
“That wasn’t you,” said Rory.
“It was my hands,” Arthur whispered. “My arms. My body.”
“But not your choice.” Rory carefully stroked the back of Arthur’s head. “That magic’s gone, okay? You’re in control. We don’t have to do anything, you got that? Only what you want to do.”
“I want to touch you.” Arthur’s fists were balled on his lap. “I just don’t think I deserve to anymore.”
Rory leaned forward and kissed him again. “I got an idea,” he told Arthur. “A great one.”
Arthur swallowed. He watched as Rory kicked off his sneakers and scooted up the bed, lying down with his head on the pillow. “What’s this great idea?” Arthur finally asked, wrapping his arms around himself.
“Maybe you need to remember what it’s like to be in control of your body.” Rory stretched against the pillows. “So I’m gonna just lay here and let you have that control. And if you happen to decide you want to remember that when you’re in control, you only use your body to make me feel good, well...” He shrugged. “I’ll let you go right ahead and do that.”
Arthur’s lips twitched in another almost smile. “You know, it sounds as if your great idea is you just lie there while I service you.”
“I’m a giver,” Rory said, and that got a bigger smile from Arthur. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked seriously into Arthur’s eyes. “But really, I only want what you’re comfortable giving.”
“What about you?” Arthur said, with deep emotion. “I want what makes you happy, and I wouldn’t blame you if you cringed from my touch for the rest of our lives.”
“Yeah, we got some healing to do,” said Rory. “But there’s no rush, right? We got as long as we both need, long as it takes. I’m not going anywhere.”
He licked his lips, butterflies in his stomach, and said, “I’m not going anywhere ever.”
“I’m not going anywhere ever either,” Arthur whispered. “And I hope you believe me when I say that, but it’s okay if you doubt, because I will keep proving it true.”
Rory swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. “Yeah, well,” he said, a little gruffly, “I guess I kinda believe you’re gonna stick around if your subconscious was willing to give me some of your aura.”
“I’d give you my name if I could,” Arthur said quietly. “Or take yours. One of yours, maybe not all of them.”
Rory’s smile became a grin, warm and hopeful. He licked his lips again, the butterflies dancing more excitedly in his stomach at what he was about to say. “I’d take a ring.”
Arthur stilled. “You would?”
“Something I could look at on my hand and remember we’re literally part of each other now? You bet.” He shrugged. “I’ll wear the Tempest Ring on the other hand. You can just get me one that controls the sun or something.”
Arthur laughed. He stretched forward, moving closer, into Rory’s space. “Maybe rings will help us both remember we can rely on each other for help. Or at least remind me I’ve bagged the only man alive who can solve my problems with a tornado.”
Rory huffed a laugh. “I will solve your problems, if you let me,” he promised. “And I’m never gonna let anyone mess with you.”
“Now who’s being overprotective?” Arthur sounded happier and lighter as he crawled over Rory, their bodies not quite touching. “I am going to get us rings. Both of us.”
“Aw geez, you wearing my ring.” Rory hadn’t even thought of that. “Ace, you can’t just say that kinda thing like it’s no big deal.”
“You said it first.”
“Yeah, but you’re not the one who gets stupid jealous all the time.”
Arthur hesitated.
Rory’s eyebrows went up. “Something you wanna tell me?”
“Want to tell you? No, not really,” Arthur said weakly.
“Something you oughta tell me?”
Arthur winced. He raised his eyes toward the ceiling. “You seemed to perhaps despise Sebastian a little less than the others.”
“Sebastian?” Rory leaned back on his elbows, eyebrows still up. “After you chewed me out in that pub for thinking he had eyes for you?”
“I didn’t say I was proud of myself.”
Rory grinned. There were inches between them. His skin ached with the need to touch Arthur, but he waited, not forcing any contact because he’d meant it when he said he’d wait, that he only wanted as much as Arthur was comfortable giving. He’d wait forever, if that’s how long Arthur needed. “You never gotta be jealous, don’t you know that? I’m yours.”
Arthur dipped his head and brought their lips together.
Rory groaned loud enough that the sound probably escaped the open window. His arms ached to wrap around Arthur, but he held himself still, letting him take the lead.
Arthur kissed him, lightly at first, just lips against lips. “I’m in control,” he whispered, as if reassuring himself. “Only me.”
Then he leaned in closer, deepening the kiss and slipping his tongue into Rory’s mouth.
Rory lost his balance then, tumbling on to his back. Arthur chased him down to the bed, their mouths never leaving each other. Arthur’s leg came between Rory’s as he lowered himself on top of him. Rory fought his body’s arch, his arms coming off the bed for a moment before h
e forced them back down.
Arthur smiled against his mouth. “You want to touch me.”
Rory’s hands flexed uselessly at his sides. “So bad.”
“That’s a shame,” Arthur said, kissing his neck, “because I’m afraid you’re just supposed to lie there.”
Rory groaned again, thudding his head against the pillow. “Are you kidding me?”
“It was your great idea.” Arthur kissed his neck again, stubble electrifying his skin just as his leg ground down.
Pleasure raced through Rory and he couldn’t stop himself from arching up. “I have the worst ideas. Who lets me come up with the ideas?”
Arthur’s hand pulled down the neck of the loose white shirt Rory still wore, revealing collarbones and the hollow of his throat for more kisses. “I enjoy your ideas,” he said raggedly, his voice barely a whisper, and Rory could hear the truth in it. “But is it working for you?”
Arthur was handling him with so much care, soft kisses and purposeful touches that set Rory’s skin on fire. He moved his hands up, tucking them under the pillow to stop himself from pulling Arthur closer. “Yeah,” he said shakily. “But anything will work for me. Just a hug, if that’s all you’re comfortable with. Understand? I’m not pressuring you. You’re back in control.”
“I’m trying to believe that.” Arthur kissed under his jaw as he popped two more buttons open on Rory’s shirt. And then he pressed his lips over Rory’s heart. “Thank you for saving my life.”
Rory couldn’t help it; he reached out and ran his hand through Arthur’s hair. “You threw me a lifeline first.”
Arthur smiled against his skin. “I didn’t say you could touch yet.”
“Worst idea ever,” Rory grumbled, tucking his hands back under the pillow.
Except Arthur’s hands now seemed to be making up for the lack of earlier touch, snaking under Rory’s shirt, into his trousers, lighting up every inch of skin they found. When he lowered his weight onto Rory, covering him, Rory’s hands crushed the pillow.
“Jesus,” he said helplessly, his eyes rolling back. “Feels so good, Ace.”
“That’s all I want.” Arthur’s voice broke, like he’d finally let go of something. “I never want to hurt you. I’m so sorry, Teddy, I’m so sorry about tonight. Are you all right? Do you feel safe?”
