by J B Black
“What?” Ash sighed, shaking his head. “Voski, that’s a story. A play - it wasn’t real.”
“But would they be together in the afterlife. Maybe that’s what the strings are for. Not just to guide you together in life but to make sure you don’t get too far apart after,” Voski explained, humming as he tugged on the edge of the other man’s leather jacket. “My great-granddam knew a warlock who mated with the god of spring. That god was the son of the god of the underworld, so…”
Their eyes met, and Ash laughed. “Seriously? Unless you know them, it doesn’t count.”
“Connections were important, so I have little doubt we could reach out to them and prove it,” Voski announced even as he recalled how independent and cold his great-granddam was said to be with anyone besides his fated mate and children. It would be problematic if that was one of the bridges the man had burned.
Rolling his eyes, the warlock reached out, smacking the fae’s back, and when Voski flinched, his eyes widened. “Fuck! Are you okay?”
“Your...your rings…”
Glancing at his hands, Ash said, “Iron then.”
In that moment, Voski’s heart skipped a beat. “You were testing - you were testing which metal would show a reaction? Were you...are you afraid of me?”
His lips twisted, but glancing away, Ash sighed before meeting the prince’s green eyes. “I’m not in the guild, Voski. I have no access to any of their knowledge, so I’m vulnerable. I wasn’t about to let the prince of Faerie come into my home and put myself at risk.”
“You could have asked me,” Voski retorted.
Stepping back, Ash scoffed, “Hi, Crown Prince of all Faerie, can you tell me how to ward my apartment against fae and what I can use to keep your mother - you know, the Queen of Faerie - from popping into my life and making demands whenever she wants?”
“Wait…” Voski swallowed, struggling to keep his magic in check. “Did she force you to help me?”
Ash didn’t need to speak. His answer came in the guilt written upon his features. He had no choice. Forced to open his home, the warlock would have every reason to keep Voski at a distance, but his rebellion left Voski questioning if his kindness came from a sincere place. Everything came into question. Had his mother manipulated him again? She threatened someone already in a vulnerable position.
“I - I can leave. I won’t let my mother...whatever she threatened you with, I won’t let her,” Voski murmured, and Ash quickly shook his head, tugging off the rings.
He threw the rings aside, letting them clink against the stone below his feet as he spoke, “I want to help you. Your mother is an absolute nightmare, but you deserve - you deserve a happily ever after.” When his hands were bare, he stepped forward. He took Voski’s hands in his own. “I’m not used to being able to trust anyone, and the few magic users and magical humanoids I know aren’t exactly friends. I’m just - I’m not used to this.”
Voski yearned to believe him, and the warlock seemed sincere. His apology stumbled, but it came across all the more sincere for the bare bones he presented. They were friends. Isolated and vulnerable, he had only done what he was used to doing, and the independence resulted from that and not maliciousness or a grudge from Voski’s mother’s interference. Moreover, the prince wanted to protect this man.
“I’ll teach you how to ward against us,” the fae whispered, releasing the man’s hands to pull him against his chest. He held him tightly, murmuring into the warlock’s multi-colored hair, “I want you to be safe.”
And he meant every word. However, the desire settled something inside him. Ash would not be safe in Faerie. Isolated on Earth - isolated in Faerie, if he hadn’t the base knowledge of Faerie and the fae from the guild, then he would be woefully unprepared for the way fae used compliments as weapons. They would lure him close, abusing the generosity, and for all his mother might have intimidated the warlock, his care could not be categorized as anything less than generous. He offered intimate pieces of himself as fodder from which Voski might learn. His wounds laid bare between them. Each tender and raw and exposing vulnerable portions of the other man’s heart, but he offered them without restraint. Even when he stumbled upon a weakness, the man tossed aside his only weapon to comfort someone who had done nothing to earn his affection.
If the prince stayed on Earth until he found his mate, Ash remained in danger however long the duration. Therefore, the blond had no choice. Even if he wanted to spend the rest of his life beside Ash, that wasn’t possible. His possessiveness - the obsessive yearning to keep the warlock for himself had to end.
Chapter Ten
No particular movie or story brought them to Hawaii. After Greece, Ash wanted to be as far from that island as possible with a drink in his hand and the entire situation buzzed out of his mind. Of course, once he had a generous two fingers of whiskey in his hand, Ash found himself unable to drink it.
A group had found them at the bar, and they ended up beneath the stars on the beach. Two impossibly beautiful women with long dark hair and milk chocolate eyes led Voski out onto the sand where the group of incredibly beautiful men and women danced. The whole mess were two seconds away from an orgy. Some clung together, grinding and kissing. Others swayed with the music.
“Your mate’s definitely going to score,” the bartender murmured, and the word - despite the mortal meaning only friendship - shot straight through the warlock’s heart.
He was right. Any of the people not already paired off would sleep with him in a heartbeat. “Good on him.”
Leaning forward, the bartender smiled. “You don’t seem terribly happy about that.”
“Having a bit of a dry spell,” Ash offered, and the man cocked a brow, scanning him as if to say he couldn’t see why the warlock had that issue. “I’ve worked as a bartender before. If you keep looking at me like, I’m going to be the one expecting a large tip.”
Letting out a loud laugh, the bartender leaned back. His dark eyes repeated the same path as he said, “Your lips had me wanting to give you more than just a tip since you sat down.”
“Think you can sneak away?” Ash asked, licking his bottom lip.
He hadn’t prepared himself, but magic did wonders. Odds were he knew more ways to loosen, lube, and clean his ass than the guild. Even as he sat and sipped on his drink, the warlock twisted his magic across his body, readying himself.
“I could take a quick break in five.”
The offering stood before him. All he needed was to give one word, and the man could have him bent over in the lush foliage or hidden by some cabana or whatnot. His hole clenched, imagining the bartender’s cock thrusting inside him. It had been so long. He hadn’t gotten any since that cheating idiot in Nelson’s, and that guy had been so keen on getting his cock wet, he hadn’t lasted nearly long enough.
But the more he thought about it, the more his mind transformed the dark hair and eyes of the bartender to Voski’s golden blond and sylvan green. Those large hands held him so well. The feel of them holding him against the prince’s broad chest awakened a feral, desperate creature within the warlock’s chest - one that wanted to be held, to be adored - to be loved. A dream he buried long ago.
Still, though he might have taken the bartender up on his offer before to distract him from feelings he didn’t want to admit to having, Ash shook his head. “Tonight, I’m just the wingman.”
In the thrum of bodies, Voski danced. His eyes found the lean, slim form of the warlock again and again no matter how he tried to keep his gaze elsewhere. From a distance, he could see the way the bartender leaned forward, the way he licked his lip and flirted. Those eyes ate Ash. Consumed him with the intention of touching, licking, claiming. Given a sign - any small suggestion the warlock wanted the man to stop - Voski would have flown to his side, glaring and roaring and unleashing the beast in his chest which proved all the harder to bury, but a rush of magic caught his attention. He couldn’t be sure what spell Ash had done, but his instincts gave him a
rough idea.
After the spell, Voski had to nearly enchant his feet in place. His cock hardened in his trousers, and he wanted to stalk over to Ash, tossing the warlock forward until his chest pressed against the bar as the fae shoved down his trousers to thrust into the slickness of his warm hole. The warlock had prepared for sex. To sleep with someone else. Any moment, he would disappear with the bartender, and when the two returned, the man’s unworthy cock would have felt the heat of Ash’s body.
Fighting against himself, Voski managed to dance to another song. His eyes found the women around him. Their hands caressed him, and he tried to mimic the longing in their touches, but none of them felt right. Like a beacon, Ash called to him. The warlock hadn’t left. Frowning, the bartender shrugged, and turning, the pink and purple haired man met Voski’s searching stare. A glass tilted in congratulations, and a beat transformed the fierce grief in his chest to hope. Ash had rejected him. Despite considering the offer, for some reason, the warlock refused.
Voski ducked away, promising to return. Making his way to the bar, he smiled, but the bartender purposefully went to the other end of the bar to serve someone else.
“Come dance,” Voski beckoned, but Ash shook his head.
“That’s all you tonight.”
A fist clenched around the prince’s heart. “I can watch my back if you...if you have something else you want to be doing,” he suggested, and though he wanted to keep his watching to himself, his eyes found the bartender, and it took everything to keep from glaring at the way the man still looked at Ash like he wanted to toss him down and take him on the warm sand.
Flushing, the warlock bit his plush lower lip. “So you noticed.”
“The magic wasn’t...subtle.”
The pale pink of his cheeks burned a bright red even in the dim light. “You - oh fucking hell - you could sense that?”
“A bit.” Voski nodded.
His awareness was impossibly honed into Ash’s every move. It was almost invasive, and he expected the other man to sneer in disgust, but that blush - red and bright - spoke of more than just embarrassment. Excitement and arousal tinged the air.
With a huff, Ash chuckled. “I thought about it, but...what can I say?” He shrugged, smirking into his drink. “You’ve got me starting to believe in love.”
None of his words justified the speed at which Voski’s heart raced. Love could be anyone. No confession passed the warlock’s lips. He offered only an explanation, but it settled like armor upon the fae’s body, and his core tightened.
The want which burned in his gut tightened, burning all the hotter as his mind whispered a thousand different ways he could draw the shorter man’s body against his own. If he were braver, he would knot his fingers in the other’s multi-colored hair and kiss him until those soft lips reddened. He could kneel between those long, lean legs and nuzzle against the bulge of the warlock’s manhood. A glamor could keep eyes from them as he drew it from those tight trousers and sucked him off before spinning him around and burying his own in the hot clutch of Ash’s body.
Even if he were not brave enough for that, they had embraced before. Hugging Ash to his chest, the prince would have the perfect chance to confess. Ash could listen to his racing heart. Would he flush? Would the beautiful red blush highlight the golden honey hue of his eyes? Allowed to know how much the fae wanted him, would the warlock whisper all the salacious deeds he wanted done to him? All those he would do to Voski?
But like a coward, Voski kept his hands to himself, and when he found himself unable to return to the beach where the others danced, the prince followed Ash through the portal back to his apartment. In the warmth of the warlock’s home, the distance between them seemed almost as small as it had been before Greece. Still, Voski went to bed, whispering only a soft goodnight.
Chapter Eleven
“This is stupid,” Ash grumbled into his coffee.
His sunglasses slid down his nose as he glared out at the people hugging and laughing as they came home. The airport echoed with rolling luggage and chatter. Not all of it was as enchanting or life altering as Love Actually had suggested, but there was a romance to it nonetheless.
Sitting with his chin in his hand, Voski sighed with a smile. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
“You’re hopeless.”
Despite the warlock’s rough words, the fae laughed. “How? People coming home - families reunited - it is beautiful.”
“There’s nobody here to flirt with. We could portal to the other side. People hook up before flights all the time, but we’re on the wrong side of security for that,” Ash informed Voski with a scowl even though he had refused a meaningless hook up the night before. Sipping the warm bitter drink, he pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. “Why are we even here? You think your mate’s going to show up?”
When the fae prince shrugged, Ash scowled all the more. He wanted an answer. Ached for the fae to set it out in stone again that there was no chance for them. His fearful heart couldn’t bear to bridge the divide between them, and he needed to hear Voski talk about his mate again. The nameless Mister or Miss Right who would sweep the prince off his feet in the fated, natural meeting.
“We’ll meet when they're ready,” Voski announced.
A pang of longing stole through Ash’s chest. “They might be mortal, right? Wasn’t that why you needed help? Mortals won’t just go looking for you.”
“No, but I want them to love me for me. I don’t want to force myself on them,” the prince retorted. His soft green eyes met the warlock’s amber. “Maybe...perhaps I’m being a bit cowardly.”
“How?”
Voski frowned, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. “What if I scare them away? I know about the red strings. What if I come on too strong?”
“Voski, you know what I think about the threads…” Ash trailed off as those emerald eyes dimmed. He couldn’t bear to make the other more fearful. “I can see the threads. It’s a particular talent that not many have, and I have seen them connect and disconnect and reconnect again and again between mortals. There’s no such thing as missed chances. If you meet someone and it doesn’t work, they weren’t meant for you.”
With a sigh, the prince fell forward, planting his face in the crux of his elbow as he whispered, “It would be different if you had seen more fae. There aren’t second chances for us.”
“Well... I could always look.”
Suddenly sitting straight up, the prince barked out, “No!”
“It was just a suggestion,” Ash retorted, offering the other a placating gesture even as the guilt weighed all the heavier in his stomach. He should have just done what the queen wanted already and looked, but the longer he waited, the harder it became. Was it so wrong to want to hold onto Voski just a bit longer?
Rubbing his hands over his face, the fae shook his head. “You might be right. Maybe threads break for fae too, but I grew up on tales of fated love. My great-grandparents fought together, conquering all of Faerie. My grandfather was the youngest of their children, and my mother his only child. I have second cousins and great uncles - every single one who is of age and even some younger than me have found their mate. They are secure in it. I want that security.”
“Nothing in love is secure. Look at my mother - think about my father’s fated mate. He betrayed his wife when he made me,” Ash pointed out, and tears shimmered unshed in the prince’s expressive eyes. “If fate and mates were that secure, I wouldn’t exist.”
Sniffling, Voski whispered, “It would have been horrible if you didn’t exist.”
“So...is it really that? Or is there something else bothering you?” the warlock asked, and immediately, the fae’s shoulders slumped.
“What if I meet them, but they don’t want me?” Before Ash could protest again, Voski reached out, holding the shorter man’s hand. “I don’t mean what if we miss a connection. I mean, what if I fall in love with someone, but they don’t fall in love with me? What if they are di
sappointed that I am their mate?”
Setting his coffee down, Ash took the hand holding his in both of his hands as he swiveled to face the prince. “No one could be disappointed in you.”
“But -”
“No. I’m not gonna hear it. There is no way that anybody would be upset to be your mate,” Ash insisted.
He spoke without hesitation. Everything he said was simply fact. His own desperate affection for the fae didn’t matter. Even if he wished that future mate were him, Ash refused to let Voski believed he deserved anything less than unconditional love. He offered so much. Cared about his mate and about their love though he had yet to meet them. Though the warlock had found the red threads to be unreliable, he longed for the stories to be true for Voski.
Green eyes glistened, and collapsing forward, the prince rested his forehead on Ash’s hands. His shoulders shook. The sight of Voski - crumpled and hiding his face - made the warlock’s heart ache. Guilt weighed on him. All it would take was a glance. He could find the length of the prince’s cord and follow it down to the other side. Luring spells would bring the fae’s mate unknowing running. Even easier, he could scry the other person’s location. All he had to do was look down. But he didn’t.
Chapter Twelve
When they returned to Ash’s apartment, Voski turned in, passing out quickly. His confession weighed heavily on him, and even with the warlock’s reassurance, his emotions had undoubtedly taken a rollercoaster ride since he had come to stay. However, while the other slept easily, Ash found he couldn’t sleep at all.
Pacing the length of his living room, he counted the steps. One side to the other and back again. Each time, he tried to summon the threads. If he activated his sight, he could trace the red thread from the prince’s finger to his mate. It would be easy to feign a natural meeting. Hadn’t the queen hired him to do just that? Only a miracle likely kept that cold royal from storming back and demanding what was taking Ash so long. He expected she would show up at any moment. His eyes jumped, glancing to the glass door of the balcony as if the thought of her would bring the woman to his doorstep.
