Page 18

Chapter 18

Epiphany

Cian

H e knew that Fenric was able to heal quickly, he knew it like he did the same truth for himself. Yet the sight of Fenric injured, the snarl of pain he’d made when the mage charred his side, those moments sent fear ratcheting through Cian’s veins and his rage was expunged as heart-tripping fear for Fenric took its place.

He held Fenric to his chest and tried to calm his tremors, hands shaking, which he disguised as best he could by rubbing them up and down Fenric’s back and sides, breathing in the scent of him. Feeling the warmth of the man in his lap.

Fenric wrapped his arms around Cian’s torso and held on tightly, and he began to purr, softly enough that Cian felt it more than heard it. The purring soothed him like nothing else, and he took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, calming with each deep inhale and long exhale until the trembling stopped and his heart rate eased off its mad gallop.

A few minutes passed like that, Cian petting Fenric’s back in long, soft strokes, up and down while Fenric purred, holding tight, their embrace one of comfort and contentment. How odd a feeling to experience after such a night of violence and death. He was unsure of the last time he felt such calm, security, and peace.

Even Rory’s resurrection and his own return to sanity hadn’t left him feeling such an emotion. He loved his brother and rejoiced at his return, even when in custody and thrown in prison. Yet what he felt for Rory was not like this, nothing like what he felt for Fenric.

Love.

He was no fool. He knew it, though he hardly recognized it even as it bloomed in his heart and spread through him, through both his body and his shared soul. It had been growing steadily and with a gentle thoroughness that left no part of him unaffected, untouched by love, and the last few minutes left him unprepared for the rush of epiphany, of realization.

Cian looked up from Fenric’s soft hair long enough to catch the knowing glance Rory sent his way, and Rory nodded once in acknowledgment before he felt his twin raise a wall between them, giving him a level of privacy they usually went without unless Rory and Daniel were…engaged.

“Are you alright?” Fenric finally asked, holding on tightly as if he were afraid of being dragged from Cian’s arms.

“Am I? Are you , my kitten?” Cian asked, one hand gently lifting Fenric’s chin so he could see the beautiful face staring up at him with worry and affection.

More than affection, if he were honest. He was horrid at dealing with other people’s emotions—unless he cared for them. Strangers and their messy emotions left him uncomfortable and impatient, or at the very least, indifferent. Yet the teary expression Fenric wore, full of worry for him despite being the one injured—Fenric cared. Their conversation under the oak tree felt like a million years ago. Everything was different now.

“I’m alright, I promise,” Fenric said softly, and Cian sighed happily when Fenric leaned in slightly and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“You like that?” Fenric asked, lips soft on his skin.

“I do,” Cian whispered. “Do it again?”

“Of course,” Fenric said and kissed Cian again, this time a bit closer to the corner of his mouth, Fenric’s eyes hooded and his hands clinging. Cian hummed, enjoying himself, and Fenric smiled, delighted, and pressed a kiss to the corner of Cian’s mouth, lingering. “How was that?”

“Hmm, maybe one more time,” Cian said, trying not to grin. Fenric was on to him by the glimmer in his eyes, but his kitten leaned in and graced him with a soft kiss directly on his lips, and Cian relished the touch, the connection. The kiss was soft and chaste, and perfect.

He’d never enjoyed kisses before, not like this. This was perfection.

Or maybe it was just Fenric.

It mattered not. Fenric was kissing him and Cian kissed him back, molding their lips together and cradling Fenric’s head in his hands, the kiss deepening, breaths mingling, tongues meeting in a slow, languid dance.

“Oh wow.”

Daniel sounded both scandalized and impressed, and Cian broke the kiss on a chuckle, though Fenric sent the young sidhe a teasing glare at the interruption.

“Sorry!” Daniel said with a grin, holding up both hands. “I was not expecting to see that kinda kiss from Cian. Like, at all. And on that note, we’re gonna head back to the house and fill Angel in on…stuff.”

Daniel grabbed Rory’s hand and gently dragged his amused husband away, the two of them disappearing into the dunes heading toward the Mansion.

“Is it safe?” Fenric asked. “Any more assassins out there right now?”

Cian took a moment, expanding his awareness to the surrounding environment. There was a blip of life out near the neighborhood entrance, but that was it. Those watching from the access road at the entrance to the neighborhood had been there for days, the cars and occupants changing out, but they never approached the Mansion, not after Angel defeated most of the enforcers the High Council brought to Boston.

“It’s clear, for now,” Cian answered. “Though I don’t doubt the area will be crawling with new assassins by the end of tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but there’s no one out there now. Well, there’s a headless body we need to dispose of but that’s it.”

Cian spared a thought and a trickle of power, and in the distance, he sensed the sands rising over the body and sucking it down into the earth. He concentrated a moment more and the body was gone from sight, the blood-soaked earth changed to sandstone, encasing the corpse and burying it for good.

The earth would reclaim the four bodies entirely in a matter of weeks, leaving nothing behind but bits of metal from clothing. No bodies for anyone to find and try to start trouble for the Salvatore Clan.

“No need to worry about the body, it’s taken care of,” Cian informed Fenric. “Shall we depart for a more comfortable clime?”

“I love it when you talk all fancy,” Fenric replied with a wicked grin, sliding off Cian’s lap and standing, holding out a hand to help Cian to his feet. He took it and stood, and held on to Fenric’s hand, not wanting to let go.

“I shall speak as fancily as you desire, my kitten.”

Fenric

Cian was covered in sand, and so was he, and while he wasn’t a fan of water in the wild, he was a huge supporter of hot showers and bubble baths. The walk back to the conservatory was done in comfortable silence as they took their time through the sea grass dunes and then through the wards into the gardens. Daniel and Rory were absent from the huge conservatory, likely up in the main house, and Fenric was pleased when Cian led him through the ever-present archway into the underhill, engaging the lockout and privacy spells so they wouldn’t get anymore uninvited guests.

Fenric must have been thinking loudly about his desire for a bath—when they crossed into the underhill, the temple was different.

A large pool, steam rising from the water, sat recessed in the floor of the temple, in the center of the columns that ran the length of the great room. It wasn’t as big as the temple, but certainly big enough for him to swim to the other side in a few strokes, and the depth looked to be over his head. There was a shallow end, and benches and seats were carved into the edge of the pool. Copper bowls lined a small section of the shallow end, his nose telling him the dishes were full of cleaning soaps. Neatly folded and stacked towels waited on the edge as well. The warmth of the pool called to him.

“Perfect,” he sighed, Cian smiling at him. “No interruptions?”

“None,” Cian assured him. “Unless the Council attacks en masse, we’re going to be able to take a bath in privacy.”

Fenric jerked to a halt, trying not to swallow his tongue. “Together?”

Cian squeezed his hand and his expression was soft and affectionate, mercurial eyes calm as a clear, sunlit sky after a storm. “Together, if you’d like. I can wait until after you’re done, but the pool is big enough for the both of us.”

“I don’t mind together,” Fenric blurted. “Together is good.”

He sternly told himself to behave—he was old enough that bathing with other people wasn’t a new thing. Being naked with other people didn’t have to be sexual or intimate—but this was Cian. He wanted Cian with an ache in his bones and a yearning that was centuries old—but again, he was old enough to have self-control and behave. Taking a bath with Cian might be torture but that wasn’t Cian’s problem and Fenric was a grown sidhe who could be patient.

The itchiness of the sand covering his clothing and skin reminded him he had relief within reach, and he went to the pool and began to strip down. A bench appeared next to him, solid rock and big enough for him to sit comfortably to take off his boots and socks before getting in the water. The underhill was in an accommodating mood.

He piled his clothing next to the bench, and the ruined shirt shimmered away as he watched, gone who knew where, and he emptied his pants pockets and set his wallet and phone on the bench, not wanting them to disappear if the rest of his clothing went too.

Cian was working on his hair, removing braids and the precious stone and silver clasps studded through the riotous mass of moss-green hair. There was an empty copper bowl beside the edge of the pool, and Cian dropped the clasps and stones one by one, soft clinks filling the air along with the rising steam from the pool.

Naked at last, Fenric took the wide steps into the pool, the water warm enough that his muscles began to relax almost immediately, a groan of relief escaping as he reached the shallows and dunked under the water, scrubbing at his scalp to rinse out the sand he felt lingering in the strands.

He came up, wiping water from his face and eyes, pushed his hair back from his face, and saw that Cian was in the pool as well, the water to his shoulders as he sat on a seat nearer to the deep end, working a thick green paste nearly the same color as his long green hair through the thick mass. The water made the moss-green strands appear nearly black, hints of gold glinting in the torchlight even when wet.

“There’s plenty for your hair if you wish to wash it,” Cian said, tilting his head to the large copper bowl near his shoulder.

“Thanks,” Fenric replied, and he waded deeper into the pool, though he stopped a couple of seats away as the seat Cian sat in would have the water up to his chin. He didn’t mind bathing, but there was a comfort level of how much water he would tolerate and that was a bit much. He could swim—but knowing how didn’t mean he wanted to swim. He was, perhaps, a cliché—a cat who disliked water.

Cian noticed his predicament and moved the copper bowl closer to Fenric. He scooped up a glob of green paste, thick and dense, but it was lathering up nicely in Cian’s hair so Fenric applied it liberally to his locks and massaged it in. He smelled lilacs, green things, and felt and smelled fresh mint, his scalp tingling a bit.

He realized he was going to smell like Cian, and he was absurdly pleased by that notion.

Cian

Cian dunked after washing his hair and came up washing himself with a natural rough loofa, scrubbing away the remnants from the beach. The sand washed away with ease, the warmth of the water relaxing him after the emotional upheaval he experienced dealing with the assassins.

He bathed quickly, and handed Fenric a fresh loofa when he was done washing his hair.

“Thanks,” Fenric said softly, taking the loofa and searching the bowls along the edge of the pool for soap, sniffing at the contents before finding one he liked.

Cian leaned on the carved stone seat, relaxing into the heat of the water. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, breathing in the scents of the soaps, the mineral-rich water, and Fenric. His scent was a subtle thing in the damp air, reminding Cian of days long past, and he was grateful in a way he never was before that he had another chance at life, at living. A new future to make new memories.

A wave of water broke him from his musing, and he looked to see Fenric out of the water, toweling dry. Fenric smiled wryly. “Not a fan of water.”

“I remember,” Cian replied, groaning a bit, preparing to get out as well.

“No, stay,” Fenric rushed out, coming to kneel beside him, towel wrapped around his waist. Fenric hesitated a second, then blurted out, “Can I take care of your hair?”

It was clean, but needed to be brushed out and braided again. His hair’s natural inclination to remain untangled and easily tamed was no match for a busy night killing assassins and dealing with the sand from the dunes.

Fenric watched him with eager eyes and open desire, and Cian nodded slowly, acquiescing. Never had another tended to his hair, aside from Rory.

Delight and excitement lit up Fenric’s expression and there was a shimmer beside them: a wide pillow perfect for kneeling, a folded towel, a hairbrush, and the bowl of hair clasps was now beside them instead of near the bench where Cian had removed them. The underhill was eager to please another sidhe, especially one so fond of Cian.

Fenric wasted no time, grabbing the pillow and setting it directly behind Cian on the edge of the pool, taking a seat. Careful hands tugged his hair from behind his shoulders and out of the water, Fenric drying the long lengths with the provided towel. Cian lifted his arms and rested them along the edge of the pool, keeping himself from slumping down into the water as he began to relax further.

“Would you like that single braid again?” Fenric asked as he continued to dry Cian’s hair with gentle tug and pats. “The one that goes from your forehead to behind your ear?”

“Any braid will do,” Cian finally managed to speak, finding himself adrift in a sea of warmth and tender care. “I’m in your hands.”

Fenric sucked in a sharp breath, but his hands remained steady.

A gentle tug had his head falling back on his shoulders, and he caught a glimpse of Fenric’s intense expression of concentration. Warm fingers carded through his hair, separating sections and working a type of magic that Cian had never felt before—sure, Rory had done his hair many times over the long years of their lives, but Cian never felt like this when his brother tended to his hair.

His eyes shut of their own accord and he sighed heavily, relaxing even more into the tender ministrations. The glide of the brush through his hair, the tiny clinks of hair clasps moving in the copper bowl, Fenric’s steady breathing, the lapping of water on the pool’s edge, all of it sent him into a state of relaxation he usually only ever achieved in meditation.

“Are you sleeping?” Fenric asked softly while he braided, fingers nimble, the tension perfect on his hair and scalp.

It took him a long moment to answer, mind adrift. “Almost.”

“Sleep if you want.”

Cian sat up a bit more and rolled his shoulders, careful not to move his head too much, and opened his eyes. “I don’t want to sleep in the pool.”

He wasn’t able to see what Fenric was doing with his hair, but he had little doubt it was going to be complicated and ornate, if the number of hair clasps being used was any indication. He was excited to see what magic Fenric wrought.

That heavy, languid feeling of peace and relaxation remained, if not as powerful as before, and Cian caught a faint hint of purring from Fenric.

He wasn’t the only one enjoying the moment.

Fenric used the last clip and sat back with a soft grunt of satisfaction. “Done. Do you have a mirror?”

A shimmer beside them on the stone, and Fenric chuckled. “I guess we do,” he said, and picked up the silver and glass mirror by the handle, holding it in front of Cian so he could see what Fenric had done.

It was similar to what he usually wore, but instead of a single tri-braid from forehead to behind his ear, Fenric did a herringbone pattern dotted with silver gemstone clasps, the blues and greens catching the torchlight, twinkling like fireflies in a field of green. A thin net of braids on the left side of his head held back the rest of his hair from his face before it too was added to the thick herringbone braid at the back of his head.

It was complicated and beautiful and he felt a deep warmth in his chest and a sudden urge to hug Fenric for his care and consideration. He didn’t want to get Fenric wet again, so he carefully turned, standing up on the bench seat, and stepped out of the water, trying not to shower Fenric with water.

Fenric blinked in surprise and carefully got to his feet, holding the towel around his waist. “Do you not like it?”

Cian used a judicious application of power and dried himself from head to toe, stepping toward Fenric and slowly, carefully, so he had time to step away, pulled Fenric into his arms. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the crown of Fenric’s head, soft hair tickling his lips. “Thank you. It’s lovely.”

“Oh,” Fenric squeaked, and Cian grinned. Fenric stepped into him, plastering himself to Cian’s naked frame, the towel the only thing between them. Slowly, warm hands crept around his waist and to his back, holding him in return, and Fenric unabashedly snuggled into his pecs. A deep purr came from Fenric, soaking into Cian’s bones.

He loved that sound.

He loved the feel of warm, soft skin and lean muscles.

He wanted to feel more, touch more.

“Fenric?”

“Hmm?”

“May I touch you?” Asking for consent was essential.

Fenric lifted his head and gazed up at him, bright green eyes wide. “Yes, please.”

The pillow Fenric had knelt on was now much larger, longer, and ideal for two people. He nudged and guided Fenric backwards, neither letting go of the other, and Fenric’s heels met the side of the cushion before he looked behind him and saw the change. He turned back with a wide grin.

“I really like the underhill,” Fenric said as he stepped onto the cushion and sank down on it, hands tugging Cian to follow.

“It really likes you,” Cian replied. It did like him, too—the underhill was quite determined to accommodate Fenric’s needs and desires. It had been a very long time since the underhill housed a sentient being that wasn’t a Brennan, and it was enjoying itself.

Cian sank to his knees on the cushion, and he reached for the towel around Fenric’s waist, pausing a finger-length away, meeting Fenric’s eyes. Fenric nodded, and Cian gently undid the towel and pulled it free of Fenric.

Fenric was lovely, and Cian wanted him. Every part of him he could get.