Chapter Three
OnFlorian’swaybacktotheapartment,itfinallystartedtodrizzle,andbeforelonghishairwasstickingtohisface.Itwassilentasheunlockedthedoorandsteppedinside,pausingintheentrywaytotakeoffhisdamphoodieandwonderingifhisfatherandUncleAugusthadleft—buthecouldseethatthelightwasstilloninthekitchen.
“Hello?” he called out nervously as he closed the door and peered forward. He heard something, like shuffling footsteps, but no voice answered him. Frowning, he took a few nervous steps into the room until he spotted a figure, sitting at the table looking in his direction—only to have his heart leap into his throat as he met the eyes of the handsome stranger who had stood behind his father during their whole strange conversation. He had entirely forgotten about his existence.
“Uh, hi,” Florian stammered, brows furrowing. Who was this guy? Why was he still here? “Are, uh... are they still here?”
“No,” the man answered, his voice deep yet surprisingly soft. Even in the dim, artificial light of the kitchen, his brown eyes were gleaming with curiosity as he met Florian's gaze. “Jerah and your uncle left.”
“Oh,” Florian replied. They stood in awkward silence for a moment until he blurted, “I don't think I caught your name?”
The other man didn't react except to blink, and Florian thought he saw the tiniest tilt of his head.
“I'm Kade,” he said at last.
“I'm Florian,” he replied automatically, and for the first time a hint of a smile played at the other man's lips.
“I know,” Kade said. Florian looked away, flushing with embarrassment.
“Yeah, I guess you do,” he muttered with a step into the hallway toward his room before pausing, uncertain. “Are they coming back?”
“Yes,” Kade said, nodding. “They asked me to stay and wait to see if you came home safely.”
He couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Okay. Well, I'm fine.” He glanced back over to see Kade was still meeting his gaze intently. It would have been disconcerting from a less handsome face, but as it was, his intensity was strangely alluring. “So, uh... How do you know him? Uh, Jerah?”
The man leaned back a bit in his chair at the question. He finally broke their gaze to glance toward the entryway, as if wishing Jerah would return.
“My family has always been allied with the fae,” he replied slowly, still looking toward the door. “When my father became too ill to serve him, I took his place.”
Florian frowned—that didn't really explain anything. Kade seemed to sense his confusion and glanced back over at him.
“Jerah is a good man,” he said unprompted, and heat flushed across Florians' cheeks in irritation. “One of the best I've ever known. You should give him another chance.”
“Maybe you haven't known many good men, then,” he muttered, turning his back and trudging to his room without waiting for a reply.
When he was alone in his room, the door firmly closed behind him, he flopped down onto his bed with a groan and kicked his shoes off before pulling a blanket over himself. The soft, familiar plaid and the darkness that enveloped him was comforting. After a few long, slow breaths, everything felt a bit less chaotic.
He pulled his phone from his pocket again to text Nadia, telling her that he was home, and that they had left. He thought of packing to stay the night at her apartment, but now that he was in the safety of his own room, going back out into the rain sounded far less appealing. Hopefully, he thought, Uncle August would come back alone, and both his father and Kade would never return. Well—maybe just his father would never return.
He flushed, feeling embarrassed with himself. Kade was cute, but seemed to work for his father, so no point in pursuing anything. And there was no telling if he was gay, or even open to someone like him.
The thought made him flush again, this time more with shame. Despite all the positive self-talk and affirming mantras that he'd repeated to himself since even before the breakup, Cameron's words still echoed in his head every time he thought of dating again, or even just hooking up with someone—no gay guy is ever going to want you. He had told himself over and over it wasn’t true, but he couldn't stop the words from creeping in all the same.
With a frustrated groan he rolled over, wrapping himself more tightly in his blanket. As if his life wasn't already complicated enough without prophecies and magic worlds and Changelings, whatever the hell that meant.
He frowned as he mulled over the conversation. If he reallywasa Changeling, and if he reallyhadchanged his body when he was little, then why had he gone through all the trouble of hormones and surgery now? It didn't hold up. Had Jerah really thought he'd buy something so far-fetched?
But... there was a certain appeal to the idea. Of course there was. After all, who wouldn't want to hear that they were some kind of chosen one in a magical prophecy? And being able to change his appearance at will would be pretty much the ideal superpower, as far as he was concerned. But if he really could do that, he definitely would have figured it out by now.
He distracted himself from the uncertain thoughts by texting Nadia for a bit and playing a game on his phone, still half-listening for the telltale sound of the front door being unlocked, waiting to hear if there would be only one voice returning, or two. The sun had long since gone down, and it had been nearly two hours when he finally heard the rattle of the key in the lock.
Florian quickly muted his phone, pushing his head up and out of his blanket to hear better, straining to listen for voices, or footsteps, or anything that might hint at how many were present as the door creaked open. Voices came, muffled and muted, from the hall—it sounded like August at first, then a barely-audible response from Kade—then his heart sank as Jerah's voice came, quiet but clear. He couldn't tell what they were saying, but August spoke again. Then there was the sound of a chair scraping along the floor of the dining room, and at the same time footsteps echoed down the hallway, coming closer.
Four soft knocks came from the door, followed by his uncle's voice. “Florian, can I come in?”
He groaned—the temptation to pull the blanket back over his head and ignore him was strong—but he was already in a better mood than before and felt somewhat guilty for having been so angry at August. Begrudgingly he sat up and called out, “Yeah, okay.”
August stepped inside, pushing the door closed behind him, but stopped just inside the door frame with a conflicted expression on his face. He stood there for a long moment, worrying his lower lip between his teeth, until finally he said,
