Pressing his forehead to Illium’s when they broke the kiss this time, Aodhan squeezed his nape. “It’s not weird. It’s us.” It was that simple. This was their story and they’d be the ones to write it, the ones to decide which turns to take.
Illium’s smile was a wild thing that held a softness not many people were ever privileged enough to see. “What about the other stuff?” he asked, even as he spread his hand over Aodhan’s heart. “You said I hold on too hard to my people.”
The wind whipped at his badly butchered hair, the “haircut” courtesy of one of Illium’s own hunting knives. “I’ve thought and thought on that these past months—and, Adi, I don’t think I can stop that.” A scowl. “If you say that’s a dealbreaker, I’m going to dye your feathers baby-chicken yellow while you’re asleep.”
Aodhan squeezed his nape again. “Nothing’s a dealbreaker with you.” He’d fight fate itself to be with Illium. “Do you think I’ve forgotten all the things you managed to order for me from a devastated territory half a world away?” Paints, a quirky little sculpture, a delivery of an out-of-season fruit that Aodhan loved.
Small gestures. Small reminders of Illium’s existence. Aodhan had treasured each and every one. He got it now, why Illium held on so hard—and so he could be patient. More, it was no longer about enduring it—he cherished every gesture, held every gift close. It had been a video call with Illium that had tilted his understanding of the final points in the right direction.
“I got the statue,” he’d said. “It’s strange and wild and I have it in my studio in the Tower.”
Illium’s smile had been incandescent.
And it was at that moment that Aodhan understood. Now, he put that understanding into words: “Two hundred years,” he said. “That’s how long you’ve been giving to me. Now I’m going to give back”—he put a hand over Illium’s mouth when he would’ve interrupted—“and if that means allowing you to look after me, so be it.”
It felt lopsided to do that, but this wasn’t about him. It had been about him for far too many years. This was about Illium, and what he needed. And what made Illium happy was to shower the people he loved in care. “I know you’re going to push it too far at times, try to hover, but I’m not fragmented and bruised anymore. I can push right back.”
At last, their relationship was back in balance.
Eyes suspicious, Illium pulled away his hand. “What if it doesn’t work?” he insisted. “What if we screw everything up by trying to take our relationship beyond friendship?”
Shadows on his face that had nothing to do with the clouds. “We could still suffer convenient memory lapses.” He brushed his fingers over Aodhan’s lips, the touch a thing of utmost tenderness . . . but his fingers, they trembled, and his heart, so vulnerable and scared, it was right there for Aodhan to see. “No one would know.”
“No.” Aodhan was through with hiding—from anything. “This has happened. We deal with it.” He took another kiss, this one harder, deeper, his hand gripping the strong lines of Illium’s jaw and one of Illium’s clenching on his naked biceps.
Neither one of them tempered their strength. They didn’t have to, each as powerful as the other. When the storm winds hit hard, Aodhan spun with it, and Illium echoed him, their synchrony a thing of instinct born of a lifetime of friendship and loyalty.
And, still, they kissed. Until Aodhan shoved up the soggy cotton of Illium’s black T-shirt and pressed his hand to the blue-winged angel’s ridged abdomen. He wanted skin, wanted to drink Illium up, wanted to brand him in ways intimate and irreversible.
Groaning, Illium broke the kiss—only to take a frustrated bite out of Aodhan’s throat. It did no damage, was a thing between lovers that made Aodhan shudder. Yet when Illium lifted his head from Aodhan’s throat, his expression held torment, not pleasure. “But what if?” he demanded again.
A single lithe move and he was out of Aodhan’s hold, the two of them facing each other across five feet of distance while the ocean surged below and the clouds roiled above. Shoving his hair out of his face, Illium blinked water from his eyes. “What if we break us?”
Aodhan stared at the powerful, courageous warrior across from him. A warrior with a heart as big as eternity. A warrior who’d lost every person who had ever mattered to him. “One thing I promise you, Blue, I will always be there.” The words were a solemn vow that fell between them on a roll of thunder.
“No matter what, we will never break. If there’s one thing I’ve learned this past year, it’s that. We might get angry, might fight, but when push comes to shove, we’ll always show up for each other.” He hadn’t even had to think when he’d learned about Aegaeon’s waking; all he’d wanted to do was be by Illium’s side, give him whatever he needed.
Aodhan would never not respond when Illium needed him.
“I know you don’t like to talk about your escalating power,” he said, even as Illium’s torment turned into flat-out rejection—not of Aodhan, of the idea of ascension at so young an age. “I won’t bring it up again until you’re ready, but know this: if and when you ascend, I will stand beside you as your second. That position has never been and never will be open.”
“You sound like you’ll take off the head of anyone who tries for it.”
Aodhan raised an eyebrow. “Blue, the assholes will be dead before they get close enough for me to behead them. I’ll zap anyone who tries.” He was dead serious. “I told you, you’re mine and I’m yours—and I’m not budging from that. Ever.”
Illium rubbed a fisted hand over his heart. “What if I want to go back to how things were?”
“Then we do that,” Aodhan said at once, even though it hurt him to think of letting go of the sweet, bright promise between them, the promise of a life and a love beyond anything he could’ve imagined.
Illium stared at his best friend in the entire universe, his wings beginning to glow against the storm. He’d never felt as good, as calm, as centered, as just . . . at home, as in Aodhan’s arms.
It had felt so natural, and part of him had thought, Oh, this is where I’ve been meant to be all this time.
But now the fear of losing Aodhan threatened to strangle him. It was tempting, so viciously tempting, to take a step back, return to friendship and only that . . . but, of course, they’d never been only that.
They had always been each other’s North Star.
Adi and Blue.
Sparkle and Bluebell.
Illium and Aodhan.
Archangel and Second.