Page 93 of Bloodgrove

“The bargain with the Albatross gave you magic and made you his Silver Hand. At twenty-seven, you will belong to him, body and soul. He is the only one who can free you from it.”

Will tried to speak, but his mouth had gone dry.

Suddenly, another veil fell from his eyes, and he felt the glyphs the god had carved into his bones. They flared bright beneath the angel’s touch. The pain was unbearable, and his own scream sounded pitiful beside the angel’s.

He felt the angel withdraw, and it was both terrible and strangely sad. His mind felt raw.

When he looked up again, the sun was shining.

His gaze found Eric, who was also on all fours in the snow, tears in his eyes. Before Will could say anything, the ambassador was already on his feet and beside him.

Eric knelt over Will, who still lay in the snow. His fingers were wet with meltwater as he pressed them to Will’s cheek and stared at him with wide eyes. Here, beneath the glaring winter sun, his irises were almost white, encircled by a jagged band of deepest black.

“What did he say to you?” Will asked, but Eric shoved him down into the snow.

His lips crushed against Will’s.

There was nothing romantic about the kiss—only desperation.

It took Will’s mind a few heartbeats to catch up, but then he wrapped his arms around Eric and let himself be pushed deeper into the snow. Cold flakes slipped beneath his collar, but he did not care. His soul was still trembling from the angel’s voice, yet Eric’s mouth against his, the weight upon his chest, began repairing the torn connections to reality.

A new fire kindled in his heart, warm and alive, and he pulled Eric closer as though he could keep him there forever. Will’s fingers slid into his hair, so much shorter than Elodie’s, damp with snow, spray and sweat. He buried his hands in it and held on, as though he could stop Eric from changing his mind.

Their lips opened to one another, and Will tasted the salt of his tears. Lips, tongues, teeth met in a storm, taking hungrily and desperately without finding satisfaction. The furs, gloves, and coats were too much between them. Eric buried one hand in Will’s hair and dragged him closer still, as though their mouths might merge and turn them into one body.

But as quickly as Eric had come to him, he pulled away.

His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, thick clouds of mist hanging before his lips.

“Damnation.” He hurried to his feet and whistled for his dogs.

“What?” Will blinked at him, confused. He had processed neither the angel's words nor the kiss.

But Eric was already fleeing back toward the castle without waiting for him.

He left Will lying there in the snow, and Will barely had the strength to understand what had just happened. Slowly, he pushed himself upright and followed.

One last time, he looked back toward the cliff, toward the poles now jutting uselessly from the waves. If the chains were not still hanging from the rocks and his skull were not pounding with pain, he might almost have believed he had imagined the whole thing.

His fingers touched his freshly kissed lips, then moved to the cut across his palm.

No.

All of it had truly happened.

But how could getting what he longed for hurt so much?

Just before the castle, he caught up with Eric, who turned toward him, his face as cold as the ice beneath his feet. “Not a word about what happened out there. I will deny everything.”

When Elodie opened the gate for them, Eric stormed past her.

“What happened?” she asked in surprise, looking between the two of them.

“Nothing.”

But nothing had ever felt more like a lie.

Chapter 49