Drawing on his last reserves of power, Evain stabilizes their tumbling and yanks them away from the yawning abyss of the demonic realm. He hooks a strand of power around Daziroth, tethering him close, and takes Leth into his arms. The embrace leaves no space between them. His heart stumbles when Leth clutches his coat. Their echoing heartbeats are the only living things in the swirling void.
Evain can keep them from falling further, but they’re still stuck in the rift itself. He doesn’t have enough power left to throw them back to the mortal realm.
But there’s an easy way to get more.
Evain works one hand between them and touches Leth’s chin. Tilts his face up, and stares into his wide hazel eyes. Sparks and ashes, he’s beautiful. Evain regrets desperately that he can’t take the time to chase him like he wanted to—to court him for weeks, months, years if need be, until Leth’s walls of restraint and distrust erode away.
Neither of them is ready, but Evain’s out of options. At least he’s always loved a dramatic gesture.
“Hey gorgeous,” Evain drawls, and from the way Leth’s eyes widen, Leth hears him even through the roar of the rift. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?”
“Evain, this isn’t the—”
Leth’s voice chokes off when Evain runs his thumb along the thin curve of his lip. Desire pulses around them, a bright new wave in the sea of power.
Not enough yet. Evain drops his other hand to Leth’s narrow waist. The layers in the way don’t help, but Leth’s breath hitches even so—and again when Evain tightens his grip. “I’d apologize for being forward,” Evain says, his voice resonating with the rush of power. “But we both know I’m really not sorry for this.”
He leans down, and as his lips meet Leth’s, he closes his eyes. For a moment, all the wild magic falls away, and all Evain feels is the electric point of contact. Leth’s shock. His own. He licks the curve of Leth’s lips, and Leth tilts his head in subtle surrender.
A new storm consumes Evain. Desire thunders through his bones and arcs like lightning through his veins. Leth’s desire or his own, it’s impossible to tell. The taste of dry lips and warm breath is a catalyst like no other.
All Evain wants is to deepen the kiss, but he breaks it instead. With his new surge of power, he forces a path back to the mortal world.
?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
LETH
Between one breath and the next, the wild magic vanishes. Leth staggers as solid ground appears under his feet. Mostly solid—his boots sink into snow. He would have fallen if not for Evain’s arms still around him. Evain’s hand still at his waist.
Leth rests stunned for a moment against the steady heat of Evain’s body, then shoves away. Evain lets him go, and Leth does fall this time. One knee lands in the snow, which is fine. He needs the space. He can’t think.
Evain stumbles a few steps away and leans over, hands braced on his knees. His hair’s fallen half out of its braid, a night-black curtain hiding his expression. Daziroth trembles next to him, his ears pinned back, looking just as shocked as the two men.
A white and black world surrounds them. A foot of snow, soft beneath the icy crust, blankets the jagged hillscape. Leth can’t tell if the stone shapes to the south are rock formations or ruins. Snow-covered earth rises around them in every direction, cupping them in a shallow valley. Few trees break up the landscape, and the sky above is heavy and gray.
The snow-bitten wind whisks away Leth’s gasping breaths. His mind is a mess. He can’t meditate his way through so many shocks at once. Falling into the rift. His magic burning away uselessly against a challenge he couldn’t face with a sword. Evain’s strength pulling them out. Evain’s kiss. Perhaps most shocking of all: Leth didn’t hate it, and he didn’t want it to end.
He can’t handle that right now.
Daziroth snorts and knocks his head against Evain’s back, nearly sending Evain to his knees too. “Thanks, Daisy, I really appreciate that.” Evain straightens up and leans against Daziroth’s shoulder. Exhaustion grays his face.
Leth sucks in a breath of frigid air and shoves to his feet. He pulls his scarf higher over his mouth and nose. “Where are we?”
Evain tucks his hair behind his ear. The wind immediately whips it free again. “Still in Lyrisenia, praise Sephine’s blessed tits.” He points to a mountain range, its jagged peaks faintly visible through the clouds. “But we’re at least a week north and east of where we should be. I think.”
Without any sun peeking through the clouds, Leth can’t confirm the direction Evain’s pointing. He’ll just have to trust him on that. Leth squints through the wind, his vision a little clearer now that his dizziness has faded. “We should take shelter. The ruins over there look like the best option.”
The wind cuts sharper by the moment, and snow falls more heavily.
“My thoughts exactly.” Evain crunches through the snow towards him, Daziroth at his back. “Let me give you a leg up.” His voice is as smooth as ever, but his gaze is strangely indirect. If Evain was anyone else, Leth would call him nervous.
“Don’t worry about me.” Leth’s pulse quickens as the distance between them lessens. He’s trying to think about survival here, not the heat of Evain’s lips on his. “You can ride.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he strides off before Evain can continue the argument.
The sky darkens above as they walk. Evain follows behind him, not too near and not too far. He sends Daziroth ahead, letting the glossy dark horse break a path through the snow. Almost prancing in excitement, Daziroth seems completely unperturbed by the cold winds. Leth envies the horse’s energy.
Snow-heavy wind buffets him, and even Leth’s thick coat can’t keep him warm. He regrets using up most of his saved charms in the rift; a shield spell might help with the weather, but he needs to sleep before he can prepare another. His dwindling endurance is all that’s pushing him through the snow.
