Page 32 of Faeheart (Widdershins Supernatural Academy #2)

Elias

“ G od damn I’m sore…” Wild grumbled as we practically crawled into the bedroom that night.

Atlas had put us through the wringer all afternoon with his training routine.

I’d never done sports in school, but now I knew that I was definitely not cut out for it.

I thought we’d just be practicing magic, but Atlas had us doing calisthenics, jogging, and a bunch of other stuff I’d never heard of.

Either way, I felt like every limb I had was about to turn into jelly and fall off.

“I told you Atlas was serious about physical conditioning,” I replied, stretching my arms above my head and wincing at the pull in my shoulders. Through our soul bond, I could feel Wild’s exhaustion mirroring my own, along with a dull ache that seemed to radiate from every muscle in his body.

“Physical conditioning for what?” Wild groaned, flopping face-first onto the bed without bothering to undress. “We’re witches and fae, not Olympic athletes. Our magic does the heavy lifting.”

“Not when you’re magically depleted,” I said, repeating what Atlas had drilled into us during training. “If we exhaust our magical reserves in battle, we need to be able to fight physically. Or at least run away effectively.”

Wild turned his head to glare at me from his position sprawled across the coverlet. “I hate it when you’re logical.”

Despite my own exhaustion, I couldn’t help but smile at his petulant expression.

Even covered in sweat and radiating soreness through our bond, he was still beautiful.

The way the lamplight caught the copper highlights in his hair, the graceful line of his neck where it disappeared into his training shirt. ..

“Stop looking at me like that,” Wild mumbled, though I felt a flutter of arousal through our connection despite his fatigue. “I can barely move, let alone do anything about the thoughts you’re broadcasting.”

Heat flooded my cheeks as I realized my appreciation was bleeding through our soul bond. “Sorry. I can’t seem to control what gets through.”

“Don’t apologize,” Wild said, rolling onto his back with a soft groan. “I like knowing what you’re thinking. Even if my body feels like it’s been trampled by a herd of centaurs.”

I moved to sit on the edge of the bed, my hand finding his ankle and beginning to massage the tense muscles there. Wild’s eyes fluttered closed, a sound of pleasure escaping his lips that went straight to my groin despite my own exhaustion.

“Better?” I asked, working my thumbs along his calf.

“Mmm,” he hummed, his magic unconsciously reaching for mine through our bond. “Much better. Though I think I’m going to need a lot more of that.”

Through our connection, I could feel exactly where his muscles were knotted, where the tension was worst. My magic responded instinctively, weaving gentle healing energy through my touch to ease his discomfort.

“Atlas wasn’t kidding about tomorrow being worse,” I said, continuing my massage as Wild melted beneath my hands. “He wants to start weapons training in the morning.”

“Weapons?” Wild’s eyes snapped open. “What kind of weapons?”

“Basic combat magic channeling, some defensive sword work, and something about a battleax.” I moved my attention to his other leg, feeling his muscles relax under my ministrations. “He said a lot of stuff.”

“Sword and battleax training?” Wild scoffed. “Can’t we just get a gun or something? We’re not living in medieval times.”

“Guns don’t work well with magic,” I explained, my fingers working their way up to his thigh. “The gunpowder reacts unpredictably to magical energy. That’s why most paranormal combat still uses traditional weapons.”

Wild let out another groan, this one more dramatic than pained. “Of course it does. Why make things easy when we can swing around giant metal sticks instead?”

I couldn’t help but laugh at his indignation. “I think it’s more about focus. The weapons channel our magic, amplify it.”

“I know,” Wild sighed, reaching for my hand and pulling me up beside him on the bed. “I just hate that we have to prepare for this at all. A month ago, my biggest concern was whether I’d pass Blackwood’s class without actually reading the textbook.”

Through our bond, I felt the undercurrent of his fear beneath the complaint.

Not just fear for himself, but for all of us.

For what we might have to do when the Purity Front arrived.

The chaotic and carefree Wild I’d met that first day of class was long gone.

This Wild was trying his damnedest to keep us all alive, and I could feel the stress eating him from the inside out.

“Come here,” I murmured, pulling him against my chest despite our sweaty clothes and aching muscles. “We’re going to be okay.”

“You don’t know that,” Wild whispered, his usual bravado slipping to reveal the vulnerability beneath. “What if this plan backfires? What if they’re stronger than we anticipate?”

I pressed a kiss to his forehead, trying to project confidence I didn’t entirely feel. “Then we adapt. Together.”

Wild was quiet for a moment, his fingers tracing patterns on my chest. Through our bond, I felt his thoughts shifting, focusing on something more immediate than our uncertain future.

“I have an idea,” he said suddenly, pushing himself up to look at me with that familiar mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“Why do I feel like I’m about to regret asking what it is?”

“Because you’re a stick-in-the-mud,” Wild replied with a grin, though the affection flowing through our bond took any sting from the words. “But you’ll like this one, I promise.”

He sat up fully, wincing slightly at the movement, then began pulling his sweat-soaked shirt over his head. The sight of his bare torso, lean and muscled and scattered with those constellations of freckles I loved, momentarily distracted me from whatever he was planning.

“Eyes up here, lover boy,” Wild teased, though I felt his pleasure at my appreciation. “I’m suggesting we take a bath. A real one, in that ridiculous tub we’ve been ignoring since we got here.”

The image of Wild submerged in steaming water, his skin glistening wet, his hair darkened to deep copper, sent a jolt of desire through me that he definitely felt through our bond.

“See?” Wild smirked, already working on his pants. “Told you you’d like it.”

The bathroom adjoining our bedroom was ridiculously opulent, with a massive marble tub that could easily fit four people, surrounded by floating candles that responded to magical energy.

Despite my wealthy upbringing, I’d been intimidated by its grandeur since we’d arrived, but now the thought of sinking into hot water with Wild seemed like the perfect remedy for our aching muscles.

“That actually sounds amazing,” I admitted, already imagining the relief it would bring to my protesting body.

Wild stood and stretched, his back arching in a way that made my mouth go dry despite my exhaustion. “Come on then. Let’s see if this fancy mansion knows how to draw a proper bath.”

The tub began filling the moment we entered the bathroom, steam rising from water that appeared to be the perfect temperature. The floating candles brightened in response to our presence, casting dancing shadows across the marble walls. Wild tested the water with his fingers, humming in approval.

“Definitely magic,” he said, shedding the rest of his clothes without ceremony. “The temperature’s perfect, and I think I smell lavender. Also, I have a feeling it doesn’t get cold. Ever.”

I followed his lead, though with considerably more self-consciousness despite everything we’d shared. It was strange how intimacy could coexist with nervousness, how I could still feel shy even after we’d bonded our souls together.

“Stop overthinking,” Wild said softly, reading my emotions through our connection. He stepped into the tub with a sigh of pure bliss, sinking into the steaming water until it reached his chest. “Just feel.”

The water was incredible, seeming to draw the tension from my muscles the moment I submerged myself.

Wild moved to make room for me, and once I was settled, he placed himself between his legs with his back against his chest. Both of us groaned in relief as the magical water worked its healing properties.

I couldn’t help my cock stiffening against his lower back.

“This is definitely better than Atlas’s torture routine,” Wild murmured softly as my arms snaked around his waist beneath the water. “There definitely wasn’t a dick pressed against me while were training.”

“S-Sorry about that,” I said, burying my face in his shoulder. “I can’t help it when I’m around you.”

“Don’t ever apologize for cock,” Wild replied, pushing back against me. “It’s my second favorite thing in the whole world.”

“What’s the first?”

He turned over his shoulder, placing a kiss on my cheek. “You, of course.”

“Gods…” I sighed. “How many guys have you gotten in bed with that line?”

“None that ever called me on it,” he grinned. “Did it work?”

I laughed despite myself, the sound echoing off the bathroom walls. “It worked, but only because I’m already completely gone for you.”

Wild’s grin widened, and through our soul bond I felt his satisfaction at making me laugh, at pulling me out of my own head even when we were both exhausted and worried about what tomorrow would bring.

“Good,” he said, settling back against my chest with a contented sigh. “Because I plan to keep using terrible pickup lines on you for the rest of our very long lives.”

The casual mention of our future together sent warmth spreading through my chest that had nothing to do with the heated water. Through our bond, I felt Wild’s certainty about us, his commitment that ran deeper than his usual playful demeanor suggested.

“The rest of our lives, huh?” I murmured against his ear, my hands tracing idle patterns on his stomach beneath the water. “That’s quite a commitment from someone who told me it was just sex not that long ago.”