“I’m not teasing,” Leth says quietly. “Would you contract with me?”
The chill wind catches Evain’s hair like a banner. All the world is gray and pale except the red of his eyes. Evain trembles again, and the yearning in his face mirrors Leth’s own.
“No,” Evain says, and Leth flinches.
The ruins flicker out of sight, as if part of Leth still kneels in the shadowed chapel outside Fort Tarhaeg. So much has happened, yet nothing has changed. Leth is still a pathetic pilgrim without a god, begging for power and acceptance. He thought Evain was different. He thought Evain wanted this.
Evain’s grip tightens on Leth’s bloody hand when he tries to yank away. “No, I’m not done. What happens after we stop your brother? Will you break the contract?” His grin is sharp and dangerous. “I won’t agree to a temporary contract with you, little Leth. Once I have you, I’m not letting go.”
Leth freezes. This time, the shock doesn’t hurt.
Evain leans in with a low laugh, surrounding Leth in warmth. His breath burns against the shell of Leth’s ear. “A willing contract. You’ll get more power from me than any mage has gotten from a forced binding. I’ll share my lifespan with you—that’s centuries, unless we’re careless. But there’s a catch. If you ever want to break the contract, I’ll have to agree.” Blunted fingertips trace a vein in Leth’s neck. “And I’m going to be obsessed with you for a long, long time.” Evain pulls away and seizes Leth’s chin. “I’m madly in love with you, Leth.”
Breath returns to Leth’s lungs with painful force. Behind Evain’s bravado, he sees the same uncertainty he feels in his own pounding heart. “I’m not asking for a temporary contract. And I think I love you too.”
A jubilant grin spreads across Evain’s face. “Marvelous,” he purrs, and leans down.
Array, catalyst, contract. The demon’s kiss is the entire binding promise. More power than Leth has ever felt before floods into his body. Evain’s hands slide to his waist, and demonic power carves new rivers parallel to his veins, surging up and inward to the wellspring of his heart. Pleasure and shadows weave between his bones in welcome invasion. Locking his hands behind Evain’s neck, Leth doesn’t resist.
Evain pulls him closer, and Leth presses achingly hard against Evain’s body. He feels Evain hard against him too, but more than that, his spirit fills with new awareness of Evain’s desire. The rest of the world falls away, and Leth can’t believe he ever thought desire was a weakness, not a strength. He’s been missing this his entire life without knowing it, and as long as this contract holds, he’ll never truly be alone.
When Evain pulls away, a ridiculous smug smile on his face, the contract is complete. The flood of power slows to a trickle, but Leth still feels Evain’s lust like a caress inside his soul. A gentle, constant echo of heat that feeds his own arousal.
Leth rubs his blood-stained thumb under Evain’s jaw, and the sensation intensifies. “Is this what you feel all the time?”
A flush crests Evain’s cheeks. “I’m not sure.” He touches Leth’s lips, then his own. “I believe we should experiment, and compare—”
A dull explosion sounds from deeper within the ruins. Moments later, the earth shivers beneath them, and black smoke rises again in a torrent against the gray sky. A chorus of birds screams away from the concussion—away from the summoning chapel, and the swelling demonic aura.
Through his new connection with Evain, Leth hears the growl of a ravenous hunger.
“He’s done it.” Icy horror cuts away Leth’s arousal. “I thought we’d have more time. Anton needed a better sacrifice.” Nausea crawls through him. Someone else died, instead of him. Shivering, Leth forces himself to focus on strategy, despite the overwhelming cascade of emotions and magic. “Fuck. I need a sword. I don’t have my spell beads.”
“You need acoat,” Evain says, laughing despite his ashen pallor. He shrugs off his own red coat. “Wear this for now. I’ll buy you a dozen better ones later. Take my gloves too.”
“They’re too big, I’ll lose my grip on the hilt.” Leth shoves his arms through the sleeves. The hem nearly reaches the ground on him, and the shoulders are too baggy, but it’s warm with Evain’s body heat, and he can move in it. “There has to be a sword somewhere—”
“Don’t use other people’s swords.” Evain pulls his right glove back on, then stretches his hand to the side. “You don’t know where they’ve been.” Shadows flicker in the air and coalesce into an elegant, dark red blade. He passes it hilt-first to Leth. “I’ll teach you how to do this later.”
The blade is light and balanced in Leth’s grip. It’ll do.
“Kiss for luck?” Evain says.
Leth lifts his chin, and with Evain’s lips comes a new rush of power. The welcome magic fits perfectly inside Leth’s soul. He doesn’t have to fight for it.
Clinging to that power and promise for strength, Leth turns towards the broken archway of the summoning chapel. He takes a deep breath and prepares to face his brother once again.
As Leth strides across the frosty courtyard, sword in hand and his own demon at his heels, laughter wails from the chapel. Anton’s voice, twisted into a demented cackle. The sound would chill Leth to the bone, if Evain’s power wasn’t there to keep him warm.
The chapel doors hang open, and Leth’s boots pause on the steps. “We need to banish the demon. Not kill it.” If they kill the demon in this realm, Anton will keep its powers. Assuming Anton cast that part of the spell correctly.
A set of long shadow-knives manifest in the air around Evain’s shoulders. They circle him slowly. “What about your brother?”
“I want to bring him to justice. He deserves a trial in Ostaris.” Leth adjusts his grip on his sword and moves forward. “But if it comes to it—don’t hold back.”
“Understood.”
Inside, the chapel looks much the same as before. The walls were built to withstand magical accidents, and the concussion that shook the surrounding ruins didn’t shake this one. Light streams from broken windows, bending and fracturing around the figures in the center of the room.
