“I never want to look at anyone else.” Daromir’s bright green eyes are all Vana needs—not because they’re Kaiskaran. Because they’re Daromir’s.
“But do you seeme?” Vana demands. “These terrible Draskoran eyes and all? This is who I am. This is who I’ll always be, and no protecting or wishing or escaping will ever change what we’ve both been through.”
Daromir’s pulse spikes beneath Vana’s touch. His breath is ragged between them. “Vana.”
“Going back to Kaiskara won’t fix me,” Vana says. “The boy you won in a tournament is dead and gone, and there’s just me left. Can’t I be enough?”
The wrong answer might kill him, so Vana doesn’t wait. He just rises on his toes and drags Daromir down for a desperate kiss.
?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Daromir
Daromir’s world freezes. Nothing falls away. Vana’s fingers still sting in Daromir’s hair. Daromir’s entire being still aches with remorse for hiding from Vana, for distressing him like that. Fuck, Vana’s hand is shaking against Daromir’s neck. The scent of storms clings beneath Vana’s fragrance. Vana’s presence sharpens and settles around him, and Daromir’s life becomes brutally clear.
He was meant for this moment. Every effort and dream and nightmare shaped Daromir into the man being kissed right now. Vana’s lips are hard against his, his eyes screwed shut in concentration. He trembles against Daromir, whose soul trembles in sympathy.
Daromir can’t think, much less move with the shock. Which is a terrible crime, because before he can even try to kiss Vana back, Vana breaks away with a gasp. Eyes wide, lips red and wet, Vana jerks back, nearly crashing into the table.
“Vana,” Daromir says, the only word that matters.
Vana flinches again, covering his mouth. He says in the smallest voice Daromir has ever heard from him, “Please don’t hate me.”
Daromir’s heart seizes. “I couldn’t.”
“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” Vana says to himself, then lifts his chin. Of everyone in the world, only Daromir would see the fear in his eyes. “I love you, Daro.”
Daromir doesn’t understand why that’s a problem. “Of course, Vana. I love you too. Are you all right?”
“I love you,” Vana repeats, arresting Daromir with the look in his eyes. “Not as a friend or brother. Not as a ward loves his bloodguard.”
“Oh,” Daromir says, as his every memory unravels and weaves into something new.
No. This isn’t new.
All these threads have always been there. All these brilliant colors, bright and dark, delicate and strong. Except they were woven randomly, only suggesting shapes at most. Now, Vana’s words weave the threads of their lives into their true pattern.
Daromir is too slow again. Vana rubs his eyes and stiffens his shoulders. “This doesn’t have to change anything. I can’t hide my feelings anymore, but you’re under no obligation to… to reciprocate. We’ll stay friends. That’s fine.”
“No.” Daromir reaches out, palm up. “That isn’t fine at all, is it?”
Vana shudders and rests his hand in Daromir’s. The connection isn’t electric. It isn’t magic. It’s simply right. Daromir and Vana belong together, skin to skin. Even if the bloodbond vanished tomorrow, this wouldn’t change.
“Reciprocate,” Daromir says, smiling. “That’s a pretty fancy word for loving you back.”
Vana’s hand tenses in his. “Don’t just say it.”
“I wouldn’t.” Daromir pulls Vana closer. His blood heats with the ease of it. When his other hand falls to Vana’s waist, Vana bends so naturally towards him. “I feel like an idiot for not realizing sooner. But I think I’ve always loved you. Every part of you, every day, exactly as you are. Feel free to ask if you’re enough—I’m happy to answer yes, a thousand times over.” Daromir takes Vana’s face in both his hands and breathes a laugh of desperate devotion. “I love you completely, Vana Kaiskara Dire.”
And he leans down to devour the answering gasp from Vana’s lips.
Daromir is meant to hold Vana to him; Vana is meant to bite Daromir’s lower lip, a muted, shared pain demanding entrance. Daromir gives and takes in equal measure, heart thudding like a drum through them both. Vana tastes perfect. Feels perfect, his slim, strong body pressed against Daromir. The air grows heavy with pressure like an impending storm. Daromir melts with it, the chill of his magic never more distant, as arousal focuses his body.
Vana is hard too, and when their kiss breaks, those intense violet eyes are dazed with lust. He pokes Daromir in the chest. “You’re not getting out of explaining this escape bullshit.”
“How about this?” Daromir flexes his knees and seizes Vana by the ass, savoring the feel of firm muscle even as he yanks Vana off the ground. Vana clutches Daromir’s shoulders, his thighs clinging above Daromir’s hips—and the man is no feather, but that’s why Daromir trains, isn’t it? “I’ll schedule a meeting tomorrow morning, so I can explain myself and you can properly berate me,” Daromir murmurs into Vana’s delicious, storm-scented neck. “But tonight, let me apologize.”
