Page 93 of The Fake Divination Offense
Luckily, Seb and I have already survived the impossible.
“On that note,” I rub my hands up and down his sides, “and since we’re in a sharing mood, I need to tell you about someone important to me who can help us.”
Chapter Twelve
This day has been a year long. And it isn’t over yet, because I refuse to let us go to sleep without my apartment being warded; and for it to be warded properly, I need Seb. I could ask Gulus to set up some spells, but until someone figures out who in their adventure party leaked the info about Galaxrien’s descendant being associated with Urzoth, and on top of seeing what kind of place they let Tem keep Bel in, that whole party’s on thin ice. Given that Seb’s been blowing up my phone for hours, askingwhyI need him to set up extra security for me, I know I won’t get our wards without an explanation.
Bel is dozing against the window by the time I park at my place. Even though all I want to do is carry him up to my bed, I wake him.
“Hey,” I whisper. “We’re here.”
His eyes flutter open and he blinks at the parking garage, his face set in a cute rumpled scowl.
That scowl smooths in realization, and he looks at me. “Your friend’s coming over?”
“Yeah. He’s on his way.”
Bel nods. I told him about me and Seb, from our childhood to a brief recap of how Camp Merethyl’s horrors bonded us; Bel knew some of it from the public details of the lawsuit. But I told him how I went to college and grad school to follow Seb, and that I’ve been working on my codependency because I know I have obsessive predispositions.
I hope Bel won’t be jealous of Seb, won’t be uncomfortable about our relationship. But as he sits there in the dark, orienting to being awake, his brow pinches in concern.
“You’re sure you’re okay with bringing him in on this?” I double-check.
Bel shifts toward me. “Yes. If you’re going to do this, you need peopleyoutrust. You didn’t ask for any of this, so the least I can do is let you use who—”
“We’ve been over this. Ididask for this. Iwantthis. If I do something you disagree with, or something that makes you uncomfortable,tell me. Does bringing Seb in make you uncomfortable?”
He hesitates, and I’m close to texting Seb not to come when he shakes his head.
“What if he doesn’t like me?” he asks, then cringes. “Gods, that’s pathetic. I mean, what if he doesn’t like you doing this for me? It’s dangerous; Ilbryen definitely manipulated you. There are a dozen reasons why someone who cares about you would be against me. Seb’s important to you, so I want him to like me. But I don’t know how to—”
I lean forward and kiss him. It’s been way too long since I did; when was the last time? In the hotel?
My lips find his, silencing him, and I slip my tongue along the seam of his mouth until he moans.
“You’ve already met Seb, remember?” I tell him. “Outside the stadium.”
“I barely spoke to him.”
“He knows how I feel about you, so he’ll love you, and he’ll hear me out about why I’m doing this. It’s expected he’ll have reservations, but I’ll talk to him.”
“We both will.” Bel runs his fingers through my beard. “He can ask me anything, anything at all. My life’s yours now, I swear.”
I grab his wrist, those words tattooing themselves at the base of my stomach, a painful bite that I know is crossing a line.
“That’s not what this arrangement means,” I growl. I tell him that because I know I should, but a larger, darker part of me wants to snatch him up and make him say that again.
My life’s yours now.
Bel melts into my grip and rests his lips over mine.
“Maybe not,” he croons into my mouth. “But it’s what we both want it to be.”
Gods, this is a mistake. Seb’s going to see right through how unhealthy this is and call me on it.
Fuck, what will I do if hedoestell me I should back out? I can’t. I won’t see Bel shipped off to what’s more or less imprisonment. But beyond that, I want him here. I need him in a way that’s swept over me in a suffocating whirlwind, and yes, that’s harmful. Yes, that’s a red flag.
But I’m past caring.
