Page 25

Gluttony

“When I die, I want my remains mixed with yours and scattered underneath our favorite tree.” “You’re immortal.” “Don’t ruin my fantasy, Gluttony.” “Your fantasy is for us to die?” “Of course not. I’m just saying that if it happens, that’s what I want. For the remainder of my body to be forever tied with yours. Don’t you want that?” “Wherever you are, I’ll be there too.”

“Again.”

Deacon scowls at Saeran and wipes the blood from the corner of his mouth. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No,” Saeran answers coldly. “You’re not nearly strong enough for what’s coming. Get up, and try again.”

“If you wanted to kill me, slicing me with that sword would be quicker,” Deacon mutters.

Saeran’s lips quirk.

Tiernan snorts from where he’s standing on the other side of the training area, opposite where I’m standing near the door.

“What the fuck is that noise for?” Deacon asks, turning on the other Fae. The two of them have been on rocky footing for days, and I’m looking forward to when it all eventually comes to a head. There’s clearly some history there that Deacon has no idea about.

“Saeran is a master at the bow. He’s”—he makes a so-so gesture with his hand—“with the sword. And he’s still kicking your ass.”

“I’ll try not to be offended by that,” Saeran says dryly. He looks stronger again today, his wings bright and spread out while he taunts his brother. He’s shirtless, only wearing soft black pants and going barefooted. He looks so fucking sexy I want to bend him over right here and reacquaint myself with how good he feels. It doesn’t matter how many times I get my hands on him, every time leaves me wanting more. I’m well and truly addicted and need my regular fix.

“You were a terrible student,” Tiernan replies, crossing his arms over his chest. “Should I tell some stories?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“And you’re giving me shit?” Deacon asks incredulously.

“I was a terrible student at fourteen, Daithí. So were you. I learned. You need to learn again.”

“I hate that there’s this whole life I had that I don’t remember.”

Pain flits across Saeran’s gaze. I know what it’s for. He’s talked to me about how much it hurts that Deacon looks at him like a stranger. About the experiences they once had together that Deacon no longer remembers. It’s not like I’m not in the same boat. He tells me about our life together, but none of it triggers any memories for me. Nothing overtly familiar, and nothing is coming back. Whoever took them did a good job.

I’ll find a way to get them back.

“Again,” Saeran says, his tone brooking no argument. As soft as he is in bed with me, pliable and under my command, he’s a hard taskmaster as a trainer. It gets me so hot it’s difficult to stay standing where I am instead of dragging him out of the room to have my wicked way with him.

Deacon snarls and readies himself. Even I can tell his stance is still all wrong. He’s too defensive and tense, not properly listening to Saeran’s instructions. He’ll learn after he hits the floor a couple more dozen times. Maybe. He’s not all that smart.

“You’re unbalanced.”

“I’m fine.”

Saeran shrugs nonchalantly, looking so effortlessly powerful. Every time I look at him, I fall harder. It might not be what it used to be, but I think we’re getting there. It grows every day, faster than I could have imagined. “Alright,” he says. “If you want to spend the rest of the day on the floor, who am I to deny you?”

Deacon rushes him, and it takes all of five seconds for Saeran to trip him and knock him flat on his back, smacking his hip with the flat of his sword.

“You’re unbalanced,” Saeran repeats. “Shift your left leg back further, bend your knees. Distribute your weight evenly. And anticipate my movements.”

“You want me to solve world hunger at the same time?” Deacon asks sarcastically. “I know how to fight.”

Saeran twirls the hilt of the sword in his palm. “Humans. You know how to fight humans . You might be able to hold a gun and aim, but those coming for us are not human. They don’t play by your rules. They have power you can’t even imagine, and they’re coming here to wipe you out. There’s no negotiation, no kidnapping. Conor wants to talk to you, and he has a purpose we don’t understand. They also want to learn about the Sins and their demons and what they can do and how, which means they won’t kill first, ask questions later. The Light? Their only purpose is to kill us all. And you must be ready.”

Deacon’s lips flatten, determination in the curve of his jaw. “I’ll be ready.”

“Then stop and think. Again.”

The door opens behind me, and Lust quietly takes a spot beside me. “How are they doing?”

“Depends who you ask,” I reply in amusement. It’s vastly entertaining for me at the very least. And I don’t mind watching Saeran own Lust’s boy toy. “Where have you been?”

“Looking into the two locations that Saeran gave us. He’s quite handy when he’s actively on our side.” Lust’s mouth lifts at the corner. “We’ve also finished the repairs on all the windows and have almost replaced all the broken décor, in case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t.” Worth it. “What about the locations?”

Lust leans back against the wall, not taking his eyes off Deacon. Who’s at least listening better now; it’s taking Saeran longer to knock him on his ass. Or find a vulnerable spot and mimic slicing him into pieces. “Greed and Wrath are looking at one, and Envy and Lazarus have taken the other.”

“Is it smart to send them by themselves?” With everything going on, we have to be smarter than that.

“They aren’t alone, Gluttony. They’ve equipped themselves with our special weaponry and taken three teams of soldiers with them. If they find resistance, they’ll be prepared. Besides, it’s just reconnaissance right now.”

“You armed them to the teeth, and it’s ‘just’ reconnaissance?” Sounds like overkill to me.

“They have orders not to go inside. We’re trying to find out what’s drawing Saeran’s magic there, and then we’ll decide what to do next.”

“If Raven’s inside, do you really think that Lazarus will simply leave?”

“I trust him to make the right judgment and keep Envy safe.”

As much animosity as the two have for each other, and how derisively Lazarus treats our youngest brother, there’s no doubting that he’d sacrifice himself to keep Envy safe. “What do you think about what Saeran said?”

“Your Fae has said a lot of things, Gluttony. What specifically are you talking about?”

Asshole already knows exactly what I’m talking about. “Envy and Lazarus.”

Lust frowns, sadness crossing his expression. “I don’t know what to think. There’s no path forward that won’t hurt them all. We can’t even be sure that Saeran is correct in this regard.”

Wishful thinking, or does he actually believe that? Saeran knows better than all of us how this works, and more importantly, why it works. If Envy and Lazarus are meant to be—fated, the same as Lust and Deacon, and Saeran and I—then Raven is about to be in a world of pain. And Lazarus is a stubborn son of a bitch who loves his husband. There’s no telling how this will end.

“Put your sword down,” Saeran says, tossing his own to the side. “Let’s try something else.”

Deacon cautiously places his next to Saeran’s, like he’s waiting for the punchline. Saeran doesn’t strike me as the sucker punch kind of person. Deacon could still get smacked in the face, but he’ll see it coming.

Saeran lifts his hand, palm up, and a translucent silvery ball appears, moving like melted silver in a lava lamp. I saw him do it the morning after we had sex the first time.

“What the fuck is that?” Deacon asks, taking a step backward and almost tripping in his haste.

“Psychic energy,” Saeran says, bouncing it a few times. Then he throws it, hard. It hits the far wall, creating a deep hole.

Lust pinches the bridge of his nose. “Do I need to hire a live-in carpenter to handle the damage you two seem prone to?”

“Probably.”

“Fuck me,” Deacon breaths out, mouth open as he stares at the damage. “Can I do that?”

“If you concentrate, yes. All Dark Fae can do it.” Saeran creates another ball but keeps it close instead of flinging it around. Something about him using his magic has me so fucking hard and aching for him. I want to carry him back to our room and get him fully naked.

“I can smell you, you know,” Lust says lazily, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“What?” Oh. “Considering some of the places that you and Deacon have sex, you have zero room to be looking at me all smug like that.” At least we’ve kept it to our suite.

“I wasn’t looking at you like anything.”

Bullshit.

“It’s a part of you,” Saeran explains, flipping his hand so the ball hovers above it. “You can feel it inside.”

“Seriously? That’s your advice? Look inside yourself?” Deacon looks unimpressed.

Saeran tosses the ball to his opposite hand. “Stop being a smartass and concentrate. Close your eyes and push out with your mind. Think about the ocean, the trees: nature. We’re tied to it on an intrinsic level. It wants to be one with you; let it.”

Deacon rolls his eyes before he closes them. “Fine. This better work,” he bites out sharply.

“That entirely depends on you and whether you want to continue being a belligerent student.”

Tiernan stifles a laugh.

“I can’t decide who I feel sorrier for,” Lust says wryly. “I’m glad that Deacon is getting the training that he needs. Saeran will be good for him, teach him things we would never have been able to. Considering that he goes back to long before we came over from the shroud, his expertise and experience will be invaluable.”

Small specs of the melted silvery energy appear around Deacon’s hand, and then he falters. The energy disappears, and he drops to one knee. Lust is at his side instantly, getting there before even Saeran can.

“Deacon?”

“My back—it hurts.”

“His shirt, get it off,” Saeran says immediately.

Lust doesn’t hesitate, ripping it in half and letting the fabric fall to the ground. There are two jagged scars running down Deacon’s back, bracketing his spine. Fresh and bleeding.

“What is it?” Deacon asks. “Get it off.”

Saeran laughs, and it’s a beautiful, almost carefree sound. “You can’t get it off. Just give it a second. The pain won’t last long; they’re trying to come out.”

“ What is?” Deacon tries to twist and see what it is, to no avail. Does he think he can turn his head one hundred eighty degrees or something? Idiot.

Wings emerge through the slits, blood running down the grooves of Deacon’s back. The wings themselves are identical to Saeran’s, shimmering colors and the shape of a butterfly’s. Lust runs his knuckles down one, and Deacon shivers, back arching comically to get away from the touch.

“Ow! Stop that!”

“Sensitive, love?” Lust asks, pulling his hand back.

“Did I—are those my wings?” Deacon turns enough to see the edges of them, drooped over on the mat. “How do they—are they—did they grow alright?”

“They’re perfect,” Lust assures him. “A little bloody, but we can wash them once they aren’t so vulnerable and new.”

“Wasn’t expecting that to happen so quickly, but I shouldn’t be surprised,” Saeran says with a fond smile. “You always picked things up faster than me.”

Deacon glares at him. “You couldn’t have told me that earlier? Especially after all that crap about being a lousy student, and the shit you’ve been giving me for days ?”

Saeran’s smile widens, turning a little wicked. “Can’t have you getting a big head.”

Something in the way he says it makes Deacon pause. “We’re really brothers, aren’t we?”

Saeran doesn’t look away from Deacon, eyes locked. He takes a long moment to answer, and I know he’s struggling with his emotions. “Yeah. We are.”

Deacon lets out a breath. “Will they stay like this all the time?”

“Give them a day or two, minimum, before you stimulate them too much. When you’re ready, I’ll show you how to hide them, and how to use them. They aren’t just pretty ornaments.”

“Do you need help standing?” Lust asks, gently grasping under Deacon’s elbow. Deacon takes hold of Lust’s bicep, and together they get him upright.

Saeran sways toward me, and I tug him the rest of the way into my arms. He doesn’t say anything as Lust fusses over Deacon, or when they share a sweet kiss.

“Saeran?” I whisper in his ear. He’s in emotional pain, and I can feel it.

“I’m fine. He’s happy, and he has Lust. That’s all I need for him.”

So selfless. It’s time he stops sacrificing pieces of himself for everyone else. I kiss his temple, lingering and breathing in the subtle, fruity scent of his hair. It grounds me. His entire presence does. I’m more content than I’ve ever been, having him in my space and in my home. He belongs here, with me. This was all inevitable from the moment he came to me, hiding in the shadows.

He’s always belonged to me.

“What happens now?” I ask, nuzzling Saeran’s neck. “You’re back to full strength, and Deacon got his wings. Ready to go to war?” I’m only half joking.

“No! I’m not even close to full strength, that will take time. And Deacon getting his wings is only the start of his training.” He looks up at me, the tips of his fingers lightly caressing my beard and then down to the scales hanging around my neck. “This is going to get worse. And it may not ever get better.”

He’s too focused on his previous losses. This is a different time, and we’re all different people. Not to mention, we know they’re coming this time, and we’re prepared. They won’t catch us unawares like they did before. “We’ll be fine.” No one is getting through me.

“The Light are coming for us, and if we’re not ready when they do, we’re all going to die.”

I can hear the unspoken word that he holds close to chest.

Again.

*****

Envy, Book 3 in the Seven Deadly Sins series, is available for preorder here.