Shaking his head, Uriel placed a glowing hand on Jai’s chest before shooting Gideon an are-you-seriously-this-dense look. “Not the Guardian bond. His Committed bond. How long has Riley been his Committed?”
For a brief slice of time, Gideon swore he died. His brain glitched, his heart stopped, and his lungs stuttered. The Maker had struck him down, and he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Frozen in a never-ending second of horror, he met Noel’s equally bewildered stare before they both turned to Uriel.
“What?”
Chapter Three
It was late when the door to their quarters opened, but Noel wasn’t asleep. He found it difficult to rest when his Other was away, doing Maker knows what. Getting himself into mischief, most likely. Jairus enjoyed mischief. It aged Noel beyond his fifteen years.
Of course, it was none other than Jairus himself who entered the room. The candlelight flickered over the small space, illuminating his stricken face. He was pale, quite a feat given his olive complexion, so much darker than Noel’s snow-white skin. His dark eyes were wide and glazed.
“What’s happened?” Noel rose from his cot, worry quickening his heart. “Jairus, are you injured? Are you unwell?”
Jairus swayed slightly, allowing Noel to lead him to his cot. They sat side by side, thighs pressed together. Noel wore only his thin, sleeping gown. Jairus was still in his tunic and trousers, but the clothing was rumpled, his dark hair mussed.
Pushing on the bond, Noel searched for the cause of Jairus’s unrest. He searched for traces of fear or pain, anxiety. There was nothing unusual. His Other’s heart beat swiftly, and leftover adrenaline teased their bond.
“Jai—”
“I—she—I—” Jairus sighed, and a strange smile spread his thin lips. “She was exquisite.”
And oh, oh, oh, realization dawned. Noel felt the blood drain from his face. Jairus’s smile widened, eyes unfocused. He looked as if he’d consumed too much ambrosia. It made Noel sick.
“You… you’ve laid with a female?” he forced himself to ask.
Jairus sighed again. “I’m unsure how it happened. We were talking, and I was making her laugh. You know how much I like it when they laugh. And then she beckoned me closer. She tasted like wine and rosewater. She led me to her quarters.”
“Who?” The question escaped harsh and waspish, and Noel cringed.
Jairus didn’t notice. “Zipporah.”
Of course. Zipporah was a Virtue whore. Shame washed over Noel at the cruel thought, and he sent a prayer to the Maker, begging forgiveness for his spiteful soul.
Aloud, he said, “Zipporah? Oh.”
“She was so soft, Noel. Every inch of her was soft and sweet, like her skin was infused with honey. And when I spread her thighs, she was wet.”
Noel choked on a gag. “How vile.”
“What?” Jairus blinked back to the presence, truly looking at Noel for the first time since he’d returned from the whore’s—Zipporah’s—bed.
“Um, I mean.” Noel scrambled to cover his blunder. “Did you taste her?”
For Trinity’s sake, why did he ask that? He didn’t want to know!
The grin on his Other’s face turned fiendish. “I told her she tasted like strawberries.”
So vile!
“Did she?” Noel asked incredulously.
Jairus laughed, deep and throaty. “No. It was rather foul, but the way she gasped.” He shrugged. “It was worth it.”
Trying not to convey his disgust, Noel asked, “And? How was it? The joining?” He hated his curiosity almost as much as he hated the curvy, beautiful female who had dared touch his Other.
“It was”—Jai’s dazed expression returned—“the best two minutes of my existence.”
Noel flinched. Why did that cut so deeply?
“The way she moved. They way she felt. They way she moaned, Noel.”
“You shouldn’t tell me,” Noel snapped, standing from Jairus’s cot and returning to his own. “It’s intimate. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“It’s not like we bonded,” Jairus scoffed. “And you asked.”
Settling on his mattress, Noel set the scroll he’d been reading aside. “I shouldn’t have. It was disrespectful.”
“Don’t be such a bore.” With a sigh, Jairus flopped onto his bed. “You sound jealous.”
Noel froze, blood running cold. “Jealous?”
“You’ll find someone,” Jairus said with surety. His head tilted, dark, shoulder-length hair fanning over his cheek. “Then you’ll be the one sharing intimate details.”
Someone. Not a female, but someone. Noel didn’t notice Jai’s choice of wording. He would, much later, but not then. His mind was racing, and his heart hurt too much to focus on that word. Someone.
“You’re beautiful, Noel,” Jai continued, immune to his Other’s grief. “Anyone would be lucky to catch your affection.”
Anyone but him, apparently. Noel looked away and blew out the candle, bathing the room in darkness. He feared the truth Jai would see in his eyes, the truth he fought so hard to stop from leaking through their bond.
His first kiss had been with a female, just last year. He’d indulged in too much wine and ambrosia. The stars had been bright that night, the music lively. And Noel had danced, rolling his body to the rhythm of the drums.
She’d approached him, eyes sharp, smile sharper still. Principalities were strong angels, known for their physical prowess. They trained hard, harder even than Guardians. She was the perfect specimen of Principality power. And though it went against feminine fashion, her hair had been cut short.
They’d shared a kiss, one sloppy, wet kiss, before Noel had pulled away, then proceeded to vomit all over her leather shoes. Jairus teased him endlessly for it.
But it wasn’t until the next morning, bleary-eyed and nauseous, that he understood why, in his drunken state, he’d found her attractive. Why he’d appreciated her strong, broad shoulders, flat chest, and muscle-hardened body.
She’d looked male, felt male. It was the final confirmation.
He wasn’t ashamed, not really. Many angels preferred partners of the same sex, and while some thought it strange, it wasn’t a point of contention in their society. But it still felt wrong to Noel. Or perhaps it only felt wrong when his body stirred in response to one particular male.
In secret moments, when his eyes lingered on Jairus’s dark skin, the dark hair smattering his chest, the muscles flexing in his back when he changed from his training uniform into his festive tunic. How many times had he imagined his Other returning those glances, heat in his dark eyes?
Noel had touched himself to such thoughts, though he’d never admit such sinful desires. Jairus was his Other! They were brothers in all but blood.
And yet.
And yet.
In the fifteen years since their creation, Noel had never pursued a male. Some had shown interest, but he’d rebuffed their advances. Because he’d secretly hoped that Jairus would… that they could discover some firsts together.
But now? Those hopes were dashed upon the rocks. He’d known. Jairus always had eyes for females. But he called Noel beautiful almost every day. And Noel had hoped—