by A. H. Lee
Azrael placed the floating map in the middle of the garden just after sunset in the soft, cool glow of evening. He unspooled the long coil of silver thread for two paces, finally looping it over a tree branch above his head. He took the dangling end in his fist, the entire line taut. “Ready?”
Mal was lying beside the picnic table at Jessica’s feet. He was in panther form, and his collar actually looked like a collar again. Lucy had already gone to sleep in her bottle. Mal answered with his head on his paws. “Ready.”
Azrael pulled hard on the thread.
The map tented, then crumpled as the stitch running through Bethsaria was drawn into the place where the thread came up through Tanisea. Jessica felt a rush of magical energy like wind. It seemed frightening, somehow, as though it should hurt. It didn’t, though. At least, it didn’t hurt Jessica.
She felt Mal flinch against her leg, and the collar blazed—first gold, then white. Jessica had seen it do that once before, when Mal had healed Azrael of a mortal wound in his tower.
The map turned inside out and disappeared, but the thread remained taut in Azrael’s hand. He seemed to struggle for a moment, like a fisherman fighting a difficult catch. Then Jessica felt the magical transference ease. That terrible wind died away. Mal’s collar stopped glowing.
Azrael gave one more gentle tug on the silver thread, peering along its length. As far as Jessica could see, it disappeared into nowhere. At last, he tied it around the tree branch. “That looks good. Mal, you want to come see?”
Azrael’s head snapped up when Mal didn’t answer. “Mal?”
Jessica was already crouching beside him. He wasn’t moving. His head, resting on his paws, wobbled bonelessly when she gave him a shake. Jessica put her arms around his chest, tried to feel whether he was breathing. She didn’t think so. “Mal!”
Jessica could hear Azrael swearing as he ran up behind her. Desperately, she opened a channel to push magic into Mal.
It was like holding out her hand to a drowning person. Magical energy was sucked out of Jessica so hard and so fast that she screamed. He’s going to kill me! Mal’s body was trying blindly to meet its needs, and he needed more than she could give.
Then Azrael wrenched her away. Jessica landed on her side and vomited. She lay there gasping and shaking while Azrael crouched beside Mal, who still had not moved. Azrael jumped to his feet, snatched the bronze bowl off the table with one hand and fished in his pocket with the other. To Jessica’s horror, Azrael brought out a little knife and sliced open his wrist above the bowl. As his blood spurted into it, he muttered words that made a smoky fog in the chilly air.
His blood steamed as though it were hotter than any blood ought to be. Jessica thought she should do something, but she felt paralyzed, dizzy.
Azrael shoved the bowl under Mal’s nose, his arm still coursing blood over Mal’s fur. “Drink! Malcharius Thardarian Vi’aesha Charn, drink!” Azrael’s voice echoed when he said Mal’s true name—words infused with magic.
Mal’s body jerked and he swallowed convulsively. Then he was gulping. When he could hold his head up enough to avoid knocking the bowl over, Azrael let go of it and wrapped his free hand around his own wrist.
Jessica found the strength to crawl to them. Mal licked the last traces from the bowl. When he raised his head, the liquid glistening on his whiskers didn’t look like blood. It looked like ambrosia. Azrael sat crumpled beside him, holding his wrist. Jessica crawled around to Mal’s head. He looked disoriented, still weak. “Did we do it?” he croaked.
Jessica cradled his head.
“Jessica? What’s wrong? Did you have to give me magic? I was lying down because I thought I might fall…”
“You passed out,” she whispered. “You stopped breathing. I tried to give you magic, and you nearly killed me. Then Ren cut his wrist and fed you blood.”
Mal blinked. He lifted his head out of Jessica’s lap, still a little unsteady, but obviously getting stronger. “Boss?”
Azrael lifted his face, gray in the dim light. He was still holding his wrist tightly.
Mal stared at him. “Oh.” He leaned forward and his huge tongue flicked over Azrael’s fingertips. Azrael jerked away. “Let me,” said Mal softly.
“You don’t have enough,” hissed Azrael.
“I do. Let me.” He spoke as though to a child.
Azrael moved his hand to peek at his wrist. The blood welled up immediately. Before he could get his hand securely back in place, Mal’s tongue flicked over the wound. Azrael shut his eyes and held out his hand. Mal licked, and Jessica felt his magic in the air, though not with the frightening intensity of a few moments ago. The bleeding stopped and, as Mal’s pink tongue slid over the pale skin, the wound began to close. In a few seconds, it was gone.
Azrael had his eyes screwed shut. Jessica thought the healing must hurt, but then Mal moved from Azrael’s wrist to his face, and Jessica realized he was crying—completely silent. Mal’s tongue on his cheek startled him into a shaky breath.
“I’m alright,” said Mal.
Azrael reached out and took his head in both hands. Mal butted it against Azrael’s chest in a feline gesture of affection. “I’m alright, but you should definitely still hug me. Possibly kiss me as well. How upset are you? Can I leverage this into naked cuddling?”
Azrael gave a choking laugh.
“You know you wouldn’t have to do things like that if you’d just take down your wards and let me feed on you a little.” To Jessica, Mal added, “Otherwise, the only way for him to give magic back to me is to turn his own blood into ambrosia.”
“I’m pretty sure you were too far gone to feed ‘a little,’” said Jessica. “When I tried to push magic at you, it was like sticking my finger in an electrical socket.”
Mal flinched. He pulled away from Azrael and started licking Jessica’s face. She laughed and tried to push him away. “I’m alright. Stop it! That doesn’t actually help, you know!”
Mal stopped licking her and tested his legs. He stood with only the hint of a wobble and looked towards the middle of the garden. “So it didn’t work?”
Azrael wiped his face on his sleeve. “Of course it worked.”
Mal turned with a delighted expression. “Really? We threaded a gate all the way across the Shattered Sea?”
Azrael stood up. “Come look.”
Jessica followed them over to the place where the silver thread was tied. The taut line seemed to disappear into nowhere…until she got perfectly parallel with it. Then she understood. The thread ran down a tunnel that seemed to exist in a paper-thin dimension. If Jessica moved just a little to one side or the other, she couldn’t see it at all. But if she stood perfectly in line with the thread, she saw a dark oval as large as a door and, at the far end, a snowy wood.
“It’s colder there,” commented Azrael.
“Can we just walk in?” breathed Jessica.
Azrael nodded. “You have to keep your hand on the thread. I need to go in first and secure it on the far side so that it’s easy to come back the other way. I’ll do that tomorrow morning.”
Mal looked proud enough to burst. “We are some kind of good at this, aren’t we?”
Azrael made a face. “I think the part where Jessica vomited and I sprayed blood all over you was particularly elegant and professional.”
Mal gave a dismissive chuff. “We threaded a gate all the way across the Shattered Sea…from the Provinces! I bet nobody has ever done that before. We are astonishing.”
Azrael yawned. “Astonishingly exhausted. No reading tonight. You know you won’t be able to stay awake for five minutes.”
“No,” agreed Mal. “And I don’t want to sleep through The Pilot and the Dragon because I want to find out what happens.” He hesitated. “But you should still sleep with us.”
Before Azrael could reply, Jessica slipped her hand into his and squeezed. “Mal is right. Our bed is more comfortable. We didn’t hurt you last night, did we?”
Azra
el took a deep breath, but Mal interrupted him again, “It’s warmer! The sitting room is cold as ice, and it comes right up through that sofa.”
“I see now why you haven’t bothered to get the fireplaces working,” said Azrael.
“Please?” said Jessica.
He looked between them, his expression unreadable. At last, he said softly, “It’s not a promise.”
“No,” said Jessica. “It’s just bed. And cuddles. You can wear all your clothes.”
“Not all of them,” said Mal. “He wouldn’t be able to move.”
Azrael didn’t laugh. “I said one night.”
“For sex, but not for sleeping,” said Jessica.
“It’s not a promise,” repeated Azrael, his voice barely over a whisper.
Jessica leaned close, so that she was practically nose-to-nose with him. “We know, Ren. Just come to bed.”
Chapter 50
Azrael
Azrael woke first the next morning. He’d always been an early riser. Mal never had—not when he had a choice about it.
Azrael sat up. The air in the bedroom was chilly, but it was deliciously warm under the covers, and the warmth lingered in his long-sleeved flannel shirt. The barest gray light had begun to glow behind the curtains. He sat there blinking for a moment, strangely unwilling to move.
He swiveled cautiously to look at his companions. Mal was lying half on his side, shirtless. He had an arm flung out. It had probably been under Azrael’s head when he woke. Jessica had rolled away from them in her sleep. Her hair made a ripple of gold over the pillow.
Azrael let himself stare at them. They were so beautiful—preternaturally beautiful, but he supposed that was to be expected. Jessica’s face always had a sweetness that could be startling when she spoke frankly. Her rosebud lips looked made for talking about cookies and puppies and warm bubble baths. Her eyes gave her away. Her eyes were full of mischief. Asleep, though, she looked innocent.
Mal’s long, dark eyelashes rested like feathers against his cheeks. His full lips, his stubble, his curly chest hair, his well-muscled arms… Azrael wanted to kiss it all. He forced himself to stop staring and scooted towards the edge of the bed.
Mal’s hand twitched beside him and came up to wrap around his waist. “Stay,” he murmured.
Azrael was beginning to think that willpower must be a limited resource, and he’d severely overtaxed his supply. He allowed himself to be drawn back down beside Mal, who turned completely onto his back and pulled Azrael onto his chest. Mal hadn’t been pretending to sleep. He really was only half awake, and his body felt limp and drowsy as only sleeping bodies do. I can’t have this, Azrael reminded himself. This is temporary. It has to be over after tonight…if I even survive tonight.
In that case, whispered another voice in his head, make the most of it now.
No, that is the wrong way to think.
But his hand, resting on the muscles of Mal’s chest, seemed to move of its own accord, tracing the pleasing contours all the way down to his navel. Mal’s own hand started moving on Azrael’s back. It stroked lazily up and down…then further down, under his shirt, edging under the loose waist of his trousers, and back up against his bare skin.
Azrael shut his eyes. This was nothing they hadn’t already done. But Mal’s fingers against his skin under the covers still felt startlingly intimate. You’re flirting with death, he told himself. You realize that, don’t you? Is that why you like it so much?
Mal’s sleepy rumble cut into his thoughts, “You used to feed feral cats?”
Azrael gave a startled laugh. Of all the details to remember. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“I liked them.”
Azrael could hear the smile in Mal’s voice. “And then you got the world’s biggest feral cat.”
Azrael laughed again and couldn’t stop for a moment. Mal’s fingers ran over his sides. Then all the way up past his collar, into his hair, and down again. Jessica gave a sleepy giggle and turned over beside them. “Did I just hear you call yourself a feral cat?” she said to Mal.
“Well, I am sort of.”
“You were.” Jessica yawned. “Now, I think you’re thoroughly domestic.”
Mal’s voice sounded doubtful. “Is that good or bad?”
“I think it’s good if you want him.”
“Oh, well then…” Mal used both hands to tug Azrael’s shirt up so that their stomachs were touching. “Thoroughly domestic.”
Azrael groaned. “Mal… Tonight. I said tonight.”
Mal’s voice came out in a teasing murmur. “Are you talking to yourself or to me?”
“Both.”
Mal brought both hands to Azrael’s hips and pulled him all the way on top, drawing Azrael’s knee over his thighs. Azrael thought, I should not let him do this. And then he did exactly nothing to stop it.
Mal looked up at him, his hands still on Azrael’s hips. “Can I get you off?”
“I don’t know; can you?” They’d spent their whole lives bantering, and the words sprang out thoughtlessly. Azrael regretted them at once. His cheeks felt suddenly hot.
Mal grinned so that his eyes crinkled to gleaming slits behind his lashes. “May I get you off?”
Azrael swallowed. His eyes skipped to Jessica, who was lying on her back now, smirking up at him. There was nothing of malice in her smirk—more conspiratorial, as though they were sharing the best kind of secret.
“I won’t undress you,” murmured Mal, “but I want to touch you…below your waist…before tonight. Please?”
“You can say no,” offered Jessica, her expression turning more serious. “Truly, you can.”
Azrael’s eyes flicked between them. He thought if he blushed any harder, he might actually catch fire. He wanted to say “yes.” He wanted to say “please.” But the words wouldn’t come.
Mal scooted up a little in the bed, leaned against the headboard. “This is how I wanted to put you in my lap two days ago.” He took Azrael’s hands and placed them on his shoulders as though to say, You don’t need to do anything.
Then he pushed Azrael’s shirt all the way up to his chin. Azrael felt the cold air on his belly and chest for just a moment. Then Mal leaned forward, ducked under Azrael’s arm, and pulled him up close. Mal’s hot mouth met the side of Azrael’s chest, licking and kissing, covering a nipple, sucking. Azrael heard himself make a sharp, high pitched noise, completely involuntary. His chin was in Mal’s curls and he wrapped his arms around Mal’s head.
He was leaning up on his knees, still straddling Mal’s lap, when Mal’s knuckles brushed his crotch. Azrael’s eyes snapped shut. He was suddenly shaking all over. Not from cold. He wasn’t cold at all.
Mal’s knuckles ran back and forth, feather light. Azrael was sure he was making a wet spot on his clothes. He wanted to press himself into Mal’s hand, wanted to say, “Forget everything I told you. Let’s fuck now. In fact, let’s just do that all day. Skip the inaugural ball. And probably my trial as well.”
Azrael knew Mal liked to tease. He’d seen him do it to other people more times than he could remember. He’d just never realized how deliciously maddening it was. If you’re going to touch me, touch me for gods’ sakes! Mal’s fingertips traced his balls, his cock, his inner thighs.
Mal’s other hand slid from his hip to his ass, curled under him. It felt so good. Mal let Azrael’s shirt fall and moved back up to the side of his neck, kissing and nibbling. His thumb found the head of Azrael’s cock through his clothes. He rubbed in tight, slippery circles. Azrael was definitely making his clothes wet.
Mal moved to his ear and murmured. “Still worried about whether you look ridiculous?”
Azrael tried to say something, but all that came out was a mew. Mal’s fingers wandered up and down his erection, returned to the head, rubbed harder. The hand on Azrael’s ass pressed between his cheeks—firm, gentle pressure.
The pleasure hit him so hard that his thighs clenched convulsively around Mal’s waist a
nd he made a sobbing noise against Mal’s shoulder. Mal held him through it, murmuring into his ear, “You’re alright, you’re alright, you’re safe.”
As Azrael unclenched, Mal folded both arms around him and pulled him tight against his chest. “See?” he whispered. “Nothing bad happened.”
“Because I’m warded.” The words came out too sharp, too breathless for control. Azrael wanted to snatch them back. This is what you say to someone who gives you an orgasm first thing in the morning? Without even expecting you to reciprocate? In desperation, he kissed Mal on the mouth. He realized an instant later that this was probably wrong as well. I should probably brush my teeth first.
But Mal didn’t seem to mind. He kissed back. Azrael broke the kiss and rested his forehead against Mal’s. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I’m not—not—”
“Shhh.” Mal tucked Azrael’s head against the side of his neck. “Look at you all cuddly and apologizing.”
Azrael was still trembling. He dropped his head against Mal’s shoulder. “Am I never cuddly or apologetic?”
Mal’s laughter rumbled against his chest. “You’re joking, right?”
“Sorry.”
Mal had one hand behind Azrael’s head and the other under his ass. “I really like you like this.”
I don’t know why. I’m not expressing myself very well.
Azrael remembered Jessica suddenly. She was being so quiet, he’d forgotten she was there. He turned, not knowing what to expect—whether he should feel embarrassed that she’d been watching or guilty that he’d forgotten about her. Jessica was lying with her arms folded behind her head, biting her lower lip. Her eyes were bright, and she looked almost as flushed as Azrael felt.
Mal turned his head to follow Azrael’s gaze. “Someone is being very patient.”
“Oh, don’t mind me,” said Jessica. “You’re doing fine; keep going.”
“I think the show’s over for now,” said Mal, easing Azrael off his lap.
Jessica giggled as he rolled over against her. “How close did we get you?” Mal slid his hand down her body and under the covers between her legs.