by Nichols, TJ
Angus’s heart rate picked up, and while he hadn’t wanted to hurt Saka, he was more worried that he might heal him wrong. “What if I screw it up? Shouldn’t I learn on myself first?”
“It is harder to do on yourself.” Saka opened his eyes but didn’t look at him. “I will make sure you do it right.”
It would be harder than growing a tree. And as much as he wanted to learn how to heal and help people, Angus was also terrified that he might make it worse. “I don’t want to hurt you more.”
He knew from experience that healing wasn’t painless, though it was different from being cut. Healing pain came from within and tore its way out.
Saka drew in a breath but said nothing as he exhaled.
A trickle of blood slid over Saka’s chest to land on the cloth beneath. The stain spread with each breath. He had to do something. “How do I start?”
“Gather the energy. Pick a cut and guide the skin to knit back together. You know what the process looks like and how it feels. I have shown you how it is done.”
Angus didn’t know how to use magic in that way. “You know what you’re doing.”
“And I can stop you if something is wrong.”
Angus looked up at the orbs overhead. It was easy to release the magic into the circle. When they had sex, they usually just released the magic into Demonside, but there had been no rebalancing tonight. Using magic in Demonside did no damage. It was like any energy and couldn’t be destroyed. It was only when it was taken across the void and not returned that problems started. And magic could only be returned by humans or animals from across the void.
The lemony magic whipped around the circle like a stray tornado until Angus got hold of it. Usi wasn’t wrong. It had a different feel, but it was no harder to hold. He drew the magic into himself as he’d done before. It swelled within him, and he felt invincible. He had power and strength beyond what he normally had. The magic was in his veins and under his skin, and the static was in his soul. He breathed out and found the calm inside.
It was so much easier to use magic in Demonside.
Drawing the scraps in Vinland didn’t give such a buzz. Whenever he’d had sex with Saka on the other side, Saka had taken the magic back to Demonside with him, so Angus didn’t get to revel in the power they released. In Demonside, the magic was used to rebalance, so Angus never got to draw in the power to use. All his lessons had been about drawing up the magic. The crackle in his blood was the taste of power. He took another heartbeat to enjoy it, even though the taste in his mouth was sharp and the sensation under his skin was more like claws than a caress.
Angus looked at Saka and the numerous cuts and didn’t know where to start. He bit his lip and fisted his hand to stop it from shaking. The magic wanted to spill from him. The need to release had been lit like a fuse. He wouldn’t be able to hold on to all of it. It was far more than the tiny amounts he’d held before. If he weren’t careful, it would slide away and leave him empty.
“I don’t want to do this again.”
“You will. And you will get used to it, and you will practice simple healing after.” Saka turned his head and looked at him. “Do you think it would be easier on someone else? A stranger?”
Would it be? Saka had done it before. He knew what was coming, and he’d worked with Usi for years. How many times had he let her use him? Or did he use her? Or did they get a willing volunteer?
He had questions, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answers. It was no different from what the warlocks did across the void, only they used demons—often demon animals that had no idea what was going on. They didn’t give their demons an opportunity to say no.
“I don’t know.” He selected a small, shallow cut and hoped he wouldn’t make a mess of the healing. Saka was right. Angus had seen and felt healing many times. He took a breath and placed his fingertips over the wound. Saka flinched as though the area were suddenly tender. Angus pushed the energy into Saka’s skin, drawing it together and forcing the cells to multiply and close the cut.
It took only a heartbeat. The body wanted to heal. All he had to do was give it a nudge and the energy boost it required. It seemed too easy. He glanced at Saka. He would say something if Angus were doing it wrong, wouldn’t he? But Saka had his eyes closed again. Angus moved on to the next wound and the next one and gradually moved on to the bigger, deeper cuts.
His hands never left Saka as he guided his fingertips to their next destination. Angus did nothing, but the magic changed texture and softened into something viscous like honey. It was a magic he was more familiar with.
“From the inside. You cannot heal the surface first. You do not need to be touching me either.” At some point Saka had started to watch him. “I can see what you are doing.”
“It wasn’t my intention.” He’d changed the magic to something he was more comfortable with. His lips curved.
“But it is the result.”
“I like touching you.” He healed the deeper cut from the inside, which was more complicated. The demons who’d healed his internal injuries must have really known what they were doing. If they hadn’t, his organs would’ve attached in all the wrong places.
Angus slid his hand over Saka’s thigh. Then he moved over Saka to heal the cut over his heart. But Saka grabbed his wrist before he could touch it. “No.”
“You’ve worn the cut all day. It needs to be healed. You know that.” There was some kind of rule that wounds must be treated when the tribe stopped moving, or more immediately if they were serious. Treat the injury before it becomes infected. It was a good rule.
Saka said nothing, but the hurt was clear in his black eyes. The pain was more than when Angus had carved into his skin.
Angus didn’t pull back, and Saka didn’t let go. “How did you get it?”
“I will heal it later.” Slowly he drew Angus closer. “I think it’s time there was some rebalancing.”
Angus swallowed. He did not want to swap places with Saka. “How many times have you done this?”
“Enough to know you weren’t even trying. You let your… affection get in the way.”
Angus glanced at the tent walls and the golden sigils that shimmered in the light. It was true, even though he didn’t want to admit it. Saka flipped him onto the floor, and then Angus was the one on his back. His heart jumped and slammed against his ribs. He couldn’t read the look on Saka’s face, but he was sure it wasn’t good.
Saka pinned Angus’s hand to the warm fabric of the floor of the tent. “Mages must do things they don’t want to. They must find that strength. You must put aside your affection.”
It was clear from the way Saka’s body pressed against him that he hadn’t put aside his affection.
“Affection has some uses.” Angus lifted his hips.
“Affection is not needed to rebalance. It is a ritual. That is all.” Saka’s touch was hot as his fingers traced Angus’s jaw and down his neck to the rapid pulse, where he paused and pressed lightly with his clawed fingertips. “You need to separate ritual.”
The heat that usually existed between them became a dangerous creature that could tear him apart. “From what? Rebalancing is rebalancing.”
“No, it’s not. We have been playing.” Saka lowered his head as though to kiss him, but he didn’t. He brushed Angus’s cheek with his lips and lowered his hips to press against his. “I should have been training you better.”
It was easy to fall under Saka’s spell—the way his lips tasted Angus’s skin and the way he moved against him. Every action was designed for maximum result. And it was working. Lust bubbled through Angus’s body, and he was almost fooled. He could nearly pretend that was how it should be or how it had been. But it wasn’t a lesson in control, at least not for Angus.
He was tempted to push aside the doubts and let Saka have his way. Angus knew he’d enjoy it. Saka was a good lover—too good, too well trained in making sure the magic was right.
Angus closed his eyes as Sa
ka’s lips went lower. They brushed across his stomach, and then Saka eased his hands into Angus’s pants. His dick throbbed with the need to be touched. But it wasn’t like returning the magic those few times they’d been together across the void, or like the hasty coupling by the lake. There’d been no finesse there, but he’d glimpsed a part of Saka that had been buried so deep Angus wasn’t sure if he’d imagined the whole thing.
He brushed the tip of Saka’s horn with his free hand. It was cool and smooth. Saka’s mouth was a whisper away from sliding over his dick. Angus wanted it, even though he knew from the way Saka was behaving that there would be no quick relief. While Saka wouldn’t dole out retribution for what had taken place, Angus sensed something else there—something Saka had been avoiding all day. And that wasn’t like Saka at all.
Before he could enjoy the delicious heat of Saka’s mouth, Angus jerked Saka’s horn up and forced him to look at him. It wasn’t heat in Saka’s eyes. Angus was used to looking into the darkness and wanting to melt into a puddle of longing. They’d always had that snap of attraction. But that snap had turned on him, and the whiplash was going to hurt if he didn’t get out of the way.
“What’s going on?” His voice betrayed the need that raced through him.
“We aren’t done for the evening.” Saka twisted away from Angus’s grip.
Angus tried to tug his hand free, but Saka gripped him tighter.
Their gazes locked. For several heartbeats neither of them even blinked. Once Angus would’ve looked away and done whatever Saka told him. Not anymore.
He arched his back in an effort to throw Saka off, and an undignified wrestling match followed. They grappled, their hands slid over humidity-slicked skin, and their hips bucked. He wasn’t going to submit when Saka was in such an odd mood. Angus’s pants tangled with his legs, but Saka wasn’t even trying, and Angus finally pushed Saka onto his back and straddled him to keep him there. He pinned Saka’s hands the way Saka had pinned his.
Angus huffed out a breath, relieved that he’d won, even though he wasn’t sure what he’d won or why. The curve on Saka’s lips did nothing to quell the doubt.
“I did wonder how long it would take before you wanted control.” Saka’s voice was low and smooth, as though it were part of the seduction.
“I don’t want control.” In that breath Angus understood that he liked the torment when Saka controlled how much pleasure he got and when he got to come. “I want to know what’s wrong with you.”
Nothing had been right since Saka came down the mountain.
“There is nothing wrong with me.” But Saka couldn’t meet his gaze.
Angus put a hand over the wound on Saka’s chest. “You’re wearing your pain for all to see, even if no one knows what caused it.” Had he done something? Broken some taboo? “Was it me?”
“Not every part of my life is about you.” Saka threw him off with a snarl.
Angus landed on his back a yard away, gasping for the breath that had been stolen from him. Saka had used his full strength. Angus sucked in another breath and propped himself up on his elbow in time to see Saka walk out the flap of the tent, wrapped in the small piece of cloth that passed for a towel.
He lay back down, swore, and slammed his fist into the floor of the tent. “Fuck.”
Whatever the problem was, he hadn’t made it any better. Perhaps he should’ve let Saka do what he wanted. At least then he wouldn’t have a hard-on, he could’ve rebalanced some magic, and he’d have slept well.
He stared at the collector orbs that hung from the ceiling, sure he was imagining the lingering, sickly yellow gleam.
The night had been well and truly fucked up.
For the first time, he looked forward to going home if that was what it would be like with Saka from now on. His heart felt like someone had rubbed it down with sandpaper. While they’d never been equals, there had always been something between them. He’d been wrong. All they had was magic.
What had Saka said? Affection had no place?
Fuck him. He didn’t need Saka to get off or rebalance.
He created a circle. Then he wrapped his hand around his half-hard cock and closed his eyes. It wasn’t the same as letting someone else take control, but he knew when to stop and take a breath. It wasn’t the hurried jerkoff that he’d done in his room at college. It was something else.
The magic gathered, soft as velvet. He swept his fingers around the head of his dick, over the slit, and then down. His hand was slippery. He should let go.
A little more.
One breath.
Two breaths.
It hurt. He had to stop touching himself for a moment, but that didn’t change the throbbing or the tightness. Come leaked onto his belly, and he ran one finger along his length.
Could he last longer?
Why was he doing this to himself?
Because he wanted to know if it was the same, if he could rebalance alone. So far, the gathering of energy was the same. He focused on the orbs and not the ache within him or the way his hand seemed to tremble or the tightness in his chest as his heart tried to break some kind of beat-per-minute record.
No one had ever died from too much lust, but he’d felt like dying more than once with Saka.
Angus reached the point where frustration became pain. He cupped his balls, needing the touch but not able to bring himself to touch his cock. Even the breeze on his skin had become too much.
One stroke… he had to think about the magic.
A couple more breaths… it was going to work.
His skin was slick with sweat. The shirt clung to him. Suddenly he realized that Saka could walk in at any time, and Angus didn’t want that interruption. He wanted to do it alone and finish.
He wrapped his hand around his cock, and that was all it took. He groaned, and it was as though the sound were ripped from within him—not part of his soul, but part of him. Some magic that he’d carried for Humanside had been returned to where it belonged.
That was why Demonside killed humans. It literally sucked all magic and life from them. Even if he didn’t have sex and shed no blood, it would happen, although much more slowly. And that was why there was no fixed amount of time that was safe for humans to remain in Demonside.
He lay on the floor exhausted, and the orbs glowed brightly. All he had to do was drop the circle and release the energy. For the moment, he was content to do nothing but stare at his success—and wish he had someone to share it with.
Chapter Thirteen
Saka stalked through the camp as though having a wash were the most important thing he needed to do. No one interrupted him. Downstream from the camp, a wash area had been set up. It wasn’t like the one they used when in a more permanent setup. Water had been gathered into several large pots, and there were small bowls for scooping it out. No one was meant to take more than a scoop or two because gathering the water was hot and dangerous work. Most would take only enough to remove the worst of the travel sweat and grit.
He longed for a shower, but a wash would have to do, and it gave him an excuse to not be near his tent.
He ran his hand over his chest. The wound was raw, and the pain radiated deeply, but not all of it was from the injury. Usi had known that reopening it wasn’t just about physical pain. She’d played her role, and even though Angus had been an unwilling student, he had applied himself to the job as he always did. As an apprentice, Angus couldn’t be faulted. It would be easier if Saka could find a reason to dismiss him.
Saka kept his palm over the wound. He should’ve let Angus heal it. He should’ve let Angus kiss him and hold him. He could’ve pretended for a little while that everything was as it should be, and when he woke, it would be a dream and nothing more. He would change his vote and volunteer. Terrance would be free, and Angus wouldn’t be beholden to the underground.
Guda would be alive.
By the river and alone for the first time all day, he let himself grieve for his lost mentor—the mag
e who’d guided his magical studies and been his friend for more years than he cared to count. He hung his head and let the pain wash through him and the tears fall on the grass. His shoulders lifted with each breath.
He needed to calm himself. No one could see him so broken. Saka blinked and lifted his head. The ache was still there.
No amount of cuts could distract him. No magical working could push the pain aside or bury it deeply enough. He’d hoped that he could lose himself in the sting of each fresh cut, in the bruise that bloomed on each new pressure point. He’d wanted Angus to fail.
Guda would be horrified. No mage should want his student to fail. If Angus failed, it was clear Saka was failing as a teacher. But unlike a demon apprentice, Angus couldn’t leave Saka because they were bound, warlock and demon, until death.
Saka did not wish Angus dead.
He dug his nails into his chest. That was the problem. He couldn’t imagine a life without Angus. Like the larvae of the pela, Angus had burrowed his way in and made himself at home, and Saka didn’t want to cut him out. It would destroy him.
How was he supposed to not let it be a weakness? It already was. His jealousy had caused Guda’s death. He was to blame, not Angus.
He hissed as he healed the cut. The heat in his skin was almost as bad as when he’d made the cut, but he left the scar. He wasn’t ready to erase everything. Not yet. Then he washed in silence, daring a riverwyrm to come and take him. Behind him there was enough noise from the tribe to scare away any predator. Hopefully Angus would be asleep when he went back to their tent.
He dried and rewrapped the towel around himself. As he turned, a light flickered in the corner of his eye. He didn’t need to study the light to know what it was. He was very familiar with that color and feeling. But he was here and Angus was there.
Saka turned to stare at his tent. There was only one… no, there were two rational explanations, though he doubted Angus had taken a demon as a lover or one of the human women in the time Saka was out of the tent. Even the thought was enough to twist his gut. He’d rather have Usi dig her knife in and reopen the scar on his chest. But if Angus had no lover, that meant he was experimenting by himself.