“Nothing so shallow, I assure you. I also want you for your body,” Wesley said, and Sebastian had to bite back another smile. “So. You’ve once again driven yourself to the breaking point and now you’re without magic. Helpless and vulnerable.”
It was Sebastian’s turn to raise his eyebrow. “You don’t have magic. If I called youhelpless and vulnerable, you would be very cross.”
“I’d be proper vexed, yes, but I never have magic. Meanwhile you’re fae, or a witch, or a paranormal or all the special things you are.” A sardonic smile curled on Wesley’s lips. “If I were a nice man, I’d be sensitive about it, say something likethis must be hard for you, to not have your usual ability to flatten the world’s mere mortals with your mind. But I’m not a nice man, so what I’m mostly considering is how good you’d look helpless, vulnerable,andpinned to a bed.”
Another shiver ran over Sebastian’s skin. “You could keep going with that thought.”
“Now see, if you say something like that, it’s going to get you into trouble,” Wesley said, a ragged edge to his polished voice. “Trouble I can’t do anything about while we’re on a public boat. You have to say something like,I am shocked, Lord Fine, what a wretched scoundrel you are.”
Sebastian did smile, then. How much easier it was to fight despair, to have hope, when he had Wesley. “What kind of scoundrel would cross the English Channel with me so I can take my brother to get help?”
“Oh.” Wesley straightened. “That is what I’m doing, isn’t it? That’s actually terribly romantic of me—are you absolutely swooning?”
“A bit, yes,” Sebastian admitted.
“Really.” Wesley nudged him with his shoulder. “That sounds promising.”
He didn’t pull away after the nudge, and he was warm against Sebastian’s side. Sebastian couldn’t stop himself from leaning in closer, but Wesley didn’t seem to mind.
“I talked to your brother on the train,” said Wesley.
“He came out of the visions without me?”
“Briefly,” Wesley said. “Why was he able to see a vision of your future? I thought that wasn’t supposed to be possible with your tattoo.”
Sebastian winced. “It’s not.” He was quiet a moment, and then he admitted, “Maybe my magic is weakening. Not just in this moment, from exhaustion, but permanently.”
“Does that happen?”
“Not usually,” Sebastian said, still quiet. “But then, people are not usually under blood magic as long as I was.”
“If your magic was any stronger, I suspect it could kill,” Wesley said, blunt and honest. “So forgive me if I remain unconvinced. Didn’t your brother say Blanshard pumped him full of magic? Maybe that’s why he thinks he saw your future.”
“Maybe,” Sebastian said hesitantly.
“Nowyousound unconvinced,” said Wesley. “What makes you think it could possibly be weakening?”
Sebastian chewed his lip, but what was the point of hiding? He held up his wrist. “No one is supposed to be able to see the lion.”
Wesley’s gaze flicked down to where Sebastian’s coat sleeve covered the tattoo. “But I saw it.”
“Yes. And if you were able to see it, maybe my magical protection is weakening.” Sebastian tried not to let his emotions show on his face, but it was gutting, the idea of losing his magic and his ability to protect Wesley and keep Mateo sane.
But Wesley frowned. “I don’t know if I believe that,” he said brusquely. “I heard you show the tattoo to Jade in York, and she couldn’t see the lion. Who else has seen it?”
“Oh. Um. Isabel, when she created it.”
“And?”
“That’s, um. That’s it,” Sebastian admitted.
Both of Wesley’s eyebrows went up. “You mean no one haseverseen your lion except me?”
Sebastian shrugged helplessly.
“Well, is there any other explanation for that?” Wesley said.
There was one other possibility. Sebastian hesitated.
