by J B Black
But they had all the time in the world, and he refused to allow himself to push his mate into the mud and rut into the tight heat between his thighs like the beast so many considered him for his Irish heritage. Any children they had would be planned carefully. Both still had two and a half years before graduation, and the world stood open before them. Ælfweard would wait. He could wait if that was what William wanted. However long the warlock needed. Anything seemed possible when done for the pleasure of his mate.
Breaking the kiss, the blond smiled down at the dark-haired warlock. Blue eyes sparkled, lust dark in the cloudy winter afternoon light. His hair clung to his face, making him all the more ruggedly handsome. It had to be that which left William’s heart racing and his lips tingling. The attraction which haunted him since Ælfweard’s confession merely manifested as a rush of want — a sensation far weaker than the blinding ecstasy which would overtake someone upon discovering their mate —, so what could William say when he found himself disappointed despite expecting nothing at all?
“You’re pretty good at that,” William whispered, struggling to find his footing as his body ached to melt into Ælfweard’s embrace.
The wizard flushed. “Thanks.”
“I guess we know now,” the warlock murmured, stepping back, and the wizard’s brow furrowed, but he nodded in his confusion. “Well, it is what it is, right? We’re not fated, so I guess that was a pretty quick fake courtship.”
Sputtering, Ælfweard floundered, and as William shifted and backed out of the blond’s arms, dread pooled in his belly. How could William not feel it too?
Desperate, he reached forward, pulling William back and kissing him once more. Again, the warlock melted perfectly against him. Sparks flashed before the wizard’s eyes, but when he drew back, hopeful to see the sense of rightness reflected in the other’s gaze, he only saw fond bemusement.
“I mean, I don’t mind fake dating a bit longer if you want, but I don’t plan on going all the way with anyone who isn’t my mate,” William explained, and Ælfweard’s heart shattered.
Was he wrong? Did his love for William cloud his mind and make fireworks where none existed? Doubts circled around his head, and the rest of the day came and went in a trance until he lay in his bed and stared up at the dark ceiling. His mate slumbered only a few feet away, and every fiber of his being ached to close the distance, but William obviously felt nothing. Could matings be one-sided?
Tormented, he slept in, missing William’s alarm and his own. Ælfweard woke only as the warlock nudged his arm, asking, “Are you still coming to the library before our morning session?”
Pale and sick with want, Ælfweard leapt out of bed. “Of course. I’ll grab breakfast and meet you there.”
“You don’t have to pretend,” William told him. “We’re not mates, and it might feel weird, but I’m not going to hold you to something you said when you thought we might be.”
All emotions drained from the wizard, drawing him like a black hole back to his bed. He sat upon the edge, staring up at those beautiful silver eyes, wishing he could see something more than friendship reflected in their gaze, but the fondness there remained what it had before his confession and before their shared kiss. The short-lived courtship had no chance to make a mark upon the warlock, and certain as William was that they weren’t mated, there was no chance of it ever changing.
“Oh...I see…”
William’s brow furrowed. “Are you feeling alright? You look really pale.”
Shaking his head, Ælfweard kept his gaze on the floor to hide the tears gathering along his lower lashes. “I’m fine.”
“Why don’t you stay in bed? I’ll get you some breakfast, and if you’re not feeling up to it, I’ll let McCoy know you’re sick,” William replied, and when Ælfweard went to argue, he covered his ears. “You’ve been coddling me, so it’s my turn. It’s what friends do.”
If he had any idea how those words tortured Ælfweard, William made no sign. Reluctantly, the wizard curled back beneath the covers, hiding his face even as he whispered, “Thank you.”
Chapter Fourteen
William expected the wizard to be off the first day after the letdown of their kiss. Ælfweard threw himself into things without consideration to how the damage might harm him, so the blond had made no preparations for the reality that they weren’t, and because the kiss came faster than the warlock intended, the false courtship shattered, leaving Ælfweard humiliated and forced to confront his feelings on his own. However, the pale exhaustion on the other man’s face left William’s heart aching. He never wanted Ælfweard to have that expression. The man deserved the world, and while he would one day laugh knowing he had ever imagined he and William destined to be together, the reality remained that the truth tormented the blond wizard in the present.
Fetching him breakfast on Monday, William pulled the extra blankets from his bed and settled them on Ælfweard when he saw the man’s shoulders shake beneath the covers. The course had been a mess of hot and cold. Maybe the other didn’t have as strong a constitution with all the stress of Nicholas and being away from his family.
When Ælfweard skipped not only their morning class but their afternoon class, William brewed a healing tea, but Ælfweard barely drank any of it despite his best attempts when the warlock prodded. Nothing improved on Tuesday, and as their final test for the semester loomed, William panicked that his first top placement would signal his friend’s expulsion from the course.
“You don’t have a fever,” the warlock huffed, pressing the back of his hand to the other’s forehead.
Still pale and with worse bruises beneath his bloodshot eyes than before, Ælfweard sniffled as he stared down at his hand. “You should be studying.”
“I won’t exactly have much competition if you’re sick, so if you aren’t studying, what’s the point in me wasting my time?” William teased, but the slump to the wizard’s shoulders made the joke leave a sour taste in his mouth. “You’re more important to me than the tests.”
Ælfweard swallowed, running his hands over his face as if he could wipe away his exhaustion. “I shouldn’t be.”
“Why? Because you aren’t my mate?” William asked, setting his hands on his hips and frowning when the wizard flinched. “We don’t have to be mates for me to care about you, and we’re friends, aren’t we?”
Though the blond solemnly nodded, the pathetic expression on his face left William unsure that they were. Maybe Ælfweard’s infatuation had been all that kept them together, and if Ælfweard no longer believed he loved him because he had realized they weren’t mates, then maybe they wouldn’t be friends after winter break came and left them with two separate rooms once more. The thought made William’s heart lurch in his chest, leaving a cruel turning in his stomach even when he woke the next day.
Wednesday had Ælfweard up in time to meet William in the library, and they studied side by side, but the wizard barely spoke, and when he did, his eyes looked anywhere but at the warlock as he seemed constantly on the edge of crying. Alone even when together, William hated how Ælfweard suffered, but he couldn’t figure out how to make it better, and the end result terrified him. He didn’t want to come back to Aelion Academy without Ælfweard, and he woke in the night, sweating from a nightmare of Ælfweard ignoring him in favor of those perfect wizard elites who had looked down on them both.
On Thursday, Ælfweard offered Gilroy a small smile for something William hadn’t seen, and the purposeful distance the other warlock kept from him — as if Gilroy expected William to reveal his secret — hurt almost as much. He had done nothing to suggest he would break the copper-haired man’s confidence, and if his eyes studied the flatness of the man’s stomach beneath his robes, he would blame his curiosity and the abject loneliness of once being utterly alone.
When the end of the week came around, nothing had changed. Ælfweard barely ate. He spent hours in bed, and though William couldn’t be sure, he doubted the other slept much despite
that. His eyes constantly were bloodshot. Exhaustion cradled his eyes in purple bruises, and the sun-loved tan of his skin faded to a pallor more akin to the rest of the wizards who looked like they had never seen the sun before in their lives. The blond’s rosy complexion faded, and his lips became dry and bitten as he seemed to constantly be swallowing back what he wanted to say.
“Tests are today, so I got your favorite tea,” William announced, setting an entire pot down on his roommate’s desk alongside the breakfast he had gotten him.
Ælfweard sat up, slowly moving more like a golem than a wizard as he murmured, “Thank you.”
“You know, next week we’ll know who will be continuing on in the course. Charles was talking to Wizard Acklemore, so he might end up transferring to enchantments,” the warlock rambled, searching for the ease with which they had conversed before, but his mind blanked. Had they even talked about anything of substance? How had that connection formed between them so rapidly when he couldn’t even figure out how to speak to the blond now?
Sitting down at his desk, Ælfweard took the cup of tea when William offered it to him. “Your position is safe. That has to be a relief.”
“Yours too,” the warlock retorted, sitting down at his own desk.
Ælfweard seemed less than convinced, but he said nothing, only quietly sipped the tea. Guilt curled in the warlock’s stomach. He had never seen the other man look so defeated, and his own heart ached in sympathy, but no matter how much fondness he had for the wizard, William couldn’t change reality. He half considered suggesting they date for real; however, no matter what he did, nothing would change that fate had not intended them for each other. This was why warlocks avoided situations like this. Emotional investment rarely occurred prior to confirming matehood among witches and warlocks, but if wizards didn’t consistently have mates, Ælfweard had no reason to guard his heart like a warlock.
Nothing could prepare William for the flinch which had Ælfweard pulling away when the warlock patted his back. Sky blue eyes stared up at him. Wide with panic, they burned William to his core.
Running his hands through his hair, Ælfweard swallowed. “I-I need to take a bath before…”
He retreated, fleeing from their room like a bat out of hell. His terror left William unnerved, and as they went into their first session of testing, William’s mind moved chaotically. All he could think was of Ælfweard. The wizard filled his mind, leaving him desperate and uncertain. Moving in a blur, he could only hope his grade would not slip far enough to cause his position to become in question, but even that only mattered as it would mean further distance coming between him and Ælfweard.
“What happened with you and Grey?” Gilroy asked during the lunch break.
The copper-haired man returned early without his usual crowd surrounding him, and the glower of his dark eyes seemed less severe, but when both their eyes drifted to where Ælfweard slumped over his desk, William’s heart throbbed.
Wrapping his arms about himself, the warlock said, “We’re not mates.”
A single copper brow rose. “So?”
“Warlocks and witches always have fated mates. It wouldn’t be fair —” his voice cracked, and as William winced, Gilroy’s eyes widened. “It wouldn’t be fair if we dated knowing that.”
Humming, Gilroy sat down on the corner of the dark-haired warlock’s table. “And how do you know you aren’t mates?”
William frowned. His brows furrowed as he studied the other man’s face. “A first kiss between mates sparks. You just — you just know.”
“Hmm...that’s unfortunate. I wouldn’t have trusted a kiss,” Gilroy announced. “Wulfric happens to have string glasses. I thoroughly tested it, of course, but I don’t trust vague sensations.”
“It’s not vague.”
“It’s subjective,” the copper-haired warlock cut in, and it was so strange to think of Gilroy not as a wizard, but the truth stood firmly before William despite how the other magic user carefully guarded it. “I can lend you the glass.”
William’s eyes narrowed. “I know what I felt.”
“Or what you didn’t feel,” Gilroy corrected.
Rolling his eyes, the dark-haired warlock shook his head. “Why are you pushing this?”
“I’m not particularly fond of you or Ælfweard; however, when I beat you both, I plan to do so when you are at your best,” Gilroy drawled, and with a smarmy smirk, he headed back to his table as the bell chimed, preventing William from answering.
By the end of the day, William stood with the rest as usual, but the overwhelming sense of defeat had nothing to do with anxiety over being second to Ælfweard in points. Charles and Elizabeth stood on opposite sides of the hall, but everyone else gathered about Elizabeth, showing they had already picked their side. Ælfweard hadn’t even stayed after. He glanced to the boards then let out a lamentous sigh before leaving.
“Can you believe it?” Natasha whispered, watching Ælfweard leave. “So bloody cocky that he’s not even staying!”
Murmurs of agreement followed, but they all looked to Gilroy for approval of their snide remarks. With a sigh, the copper-haired man ran a hand through his hair. “Hardly cocky when you take first every single time.”
“He looks a mess,” Timothy huffed. “I doubt he’ll take it this week.”
Pointing toward the boards, Gilroy sighed. “I suppose we’ll see.”
Heart in his throat, William stood frozen in place. He had almost gone after Ælfweard, but almost hardly counted, and the more he followed and tried to care for the wizard, the worse it would end up being. His heart thundered as the names appeared. Charles had lost his position, denoted in red, and Elizabeth hadn’t scored well enough to escape having a yellow tally of uncertainty beside her name. She’d have further one-on-one sessions next week to determine her fate. The rest of the line up matched closely to prior weeks, and Gilroy had closed the bulk of the gap between second and third.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Natasha hissed.
Timothy gaped. “A tie for first. That can’t be right!”
Chuckling, Gilroy smiled at his henchman. “Sharing first still counts as first, Timothy. It looks like you were wrong again.”
As the wizard tittered amongst themselves, William raced back to their room. Ælfweard curled up beneath the sheets. He had his blankets and the ones William gave him piled high around him, covering his face from view. Slowly shutting the door, the warlock cautiously approached the wizard.
“You got first,” he whispered, and Ælfweard said nothing. “I mean, we tied this time, but you’re still safe, so that’s great, right?”
The wizard said nothing.
Crossing the room, William sat down on his bed facing the lump. “Is this how it’s going to be? You ignoring me?”
Again, Ælfweard remained curled in the blankets, giving no sign he heard anything at all. His silence weighed heavily on them both, but he could not find the will to move let alone speak, so he pleaded in his mind for the warlock to just leave him alone to mourn as his heart ached. How could the wizard explain the emotions running wild in his chest? William felt nothing. While he had prepared for the chance of them not being mates, Ælfweard had no idea what to do if their mating bond stood one sided. Which it had to be, didn’t it? The shock and perfection of their kiss had no comparison, so William couldn’t have mistaken the sensation, but Ælfweard’s heart screamed the warlock had missed the sign.
If any gods existed, they ignored Ælfweard’s silent prayers as William spoke, “I don’t want to lose you.”
“Lose me?” Ælfweard sat up, staring at the other man. “You have me completely and utterly enthralled. I’m absolutely in love with you, William, and knowing that I’ll never have you — that you’ll never feel the same — how am I supposed to act?”
William ducked his head, swallowing. “We might not be fated, but I still care about you.”
“As a friend, but that’s not what I expected,” the wizard ret
orted. “I have fought day after day to even be your friend, and I know that you’ve let me in more than you would’ve felt comfortable doing after everything you were put through, but I’m in love with you. You’re all I can think about. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Biting his lip, the warlock struggled to find the words to reply. There had to be something he could say that would fix things between them. Something that would make everything better, but no matter what he thought to say, it only seemed to undermine the wizard’s emotions. William refused to do that. Even if he believed the other man mistook infatuation for love, the warlock refused to devalue his friend’s feelings. However, that left him with nothing to say at all, and Ælfweard’s big blue eyes pierced him to the core, pleading for some kind of response. He left his heart — broken and desperate and bleeding — in the space between them.
It would be all too easy to tell Ælfweard how much he wanted the same. He yearned to be with the wizard always, but the reality terrified him. If he confessed his own affection, William risked leading Ælfweard on. Any suggestion that he would forsake his fated mate would be a lie. Dragging out this heartbreak would only leave the both of them all the more destroyed. No matter how the warlock yearned for the result of their kiss to have been different, he couldn’t deny what he had — or in Gilroy’s words hadn’t — felt. Though their magic melded so easily together, the charge around them had more to do with the half-done spell of the battle magic wizard than any fate. No matter how much William hated the shortness of their time together after Ælfweard confessed, this would always have been the result.
His silence spoke more than enough for Ælfweard. The wizard’s shoulders sagged, and his bloodshot eyes clenched shut as tears gathered on his lower lashes once more. Pale and shaking, he seemed so much smaller than the strong, stalwart man who reached out to William again and again.
And William couldn’t stand by. He lunged forward, wrapping his arms around the blond, knowing he likely only made it worse as Ælfweard held tightly to him. The wizard sobbed. Holding tightly to the dark-haired warlock, the blond trembled, weeping.
