“Fourteen.” Cym’s arms dropped to his sides, but his cock pulsed because it didn’t care about things like morals or communication.

“Mm?” Fourteen’s voice was thick, and he closed the distance between them, touching his forehead to Cym’s.

It took all the willpower Cym possessed not to move the micromillimeters necessary to press his lips to Fourteen’s. “What did you mean earlier when you said you weren’t unaffected by me?”

Fourteen nuzzled Cym’s cheek with his nose, breathing in his scent. “You want to talk about that right now? Because”—his thumb brushed across Cym’s lower lip—“I think it could wait a little longer.”

“I—” Cym’s throat went dry. He cleared it and tried again. “I think it might be important.” Cym considered getting that sentence out one of the major achievements of his life.

Fourteen took a deep breath and sat back, keeping the majority of his weight off Cym but still keeping him pinned to the ground.

The sunny day began to dim as clouds formed overhead. Fourteen frowned down at Cym as if to say, And this isn’t important? But he didn’t protest.

“Please?” Cym should get a freaking medal for his persistence because his cock was officially protesting.

Fourteen huffed, and his frown transformed into something very akin to a pout. Finally, he climbed off Cym’s body, but not before planting a scorching kiss on his mouth.

Thunder rumbled in the distance as Fourteen sat down beside him with a painstaking deliberation. It left Cym wondering if he had an actual unit of measurement to go by for the proper distance to establish for a serious conversation.

Once Fourteen had achieved a position that made him happy he gazed at Cym with calm eyes, completely free of the cold emptiness Cym had become accustomed to.

Fourteen waited until Cym sat up before speaking. “When I carried you to the car back at the cemetery, I saw firsthand how you affect people. You don’t do that to me.”

“Then why—” Cym began and stopped when Fourteen held up a hand.

“You do something different. It’s hard to explain because I don’t understand any of it, so just let me talk. When I’m done, you can tell me if you can make any sense of it.” Fourteen paused and stroked his thumb across his lower lip. Cym’s mind went a bit fuzzy, but Fourteen’s next words sobered him up in a flash. “The room you pulled me from, it was real, not just whatever magic hoodoo is happening right now.”

“I’m pretty sure this is a dream—” Cym offered and was quelled by a sharp glance from Fourteen.

“The point is that it was a real place, but I didn’t remember it before I met you. I didn’t remember any of it before I met you. The man in the uniform—the Colonel—is the one who did this to me. He killed my father, took me, and turned me into his puppet.” Fourteen clench his fists and shot to his feet with jungle cat grace. When he began to pace, Cym scrambled to his feet to avoid getting stepped on.

Out to sea, dark storm clouds filled the sky, and thunder rumbled continuously, coming closer and closer toward land.

“I did his jobs and remembered nothing—nothing! He took it all away from me and had me at his heel like a trained attack dog.”

Streaks of lightning sparked through the clouds like a network of veins in the sky. Suddenly the storm doubled, then tripled, and Cym had the eerie impression it was as aware of him as he was of it. The thunder shook the sky and Cym felt the ground tremble in response.

When Fourteen’s pacing brought him within reach, Cym’s hand shot out to grab his arm. He didn’t know what he hoped to accomplish, but he couldn’t stand there like a dumbass while Fourteen bared his soul.

Fourteen stilled at the touch. “But then I met you.” He took Cym’s small hand in his and pulled Cym against his chest. “I felt no effect from simply being around you, but when I touched your skin, something broke free inside of me. I began remembering things. The memories would go away once I stopped touching you, but after the fight in the cemetery I was able to hold onto them.”

Rage. Joy. Relief. Disappointment. Cym flashed through so many emotions he could barely breathe.

The rage was toward the Colonel for all he had done, but the rest was all due to Cym’s own selfishness. He was happy Fourteen wasn’t being driven mad by his wild magic. It was more of a gift than Cym could have hoped for, but…

Cym stumbled backward out of Fourteen’s arms.

Maybe Cym had read too many romance novels, but he’d started to believe Fourteen was interested in him—he had busted in to save Cym from his shitty aunt after all. Now it seemed the situation was more complicated. Had Fourteen done it out of gratitude? Or worse, obligation?

“Is that why you stayed? To find out more about yourself?” Cym hated himself for asking, but he refused to nurse a crush on someone who might be using him.

The muscles in Fourteen’s jaw flexed. “Have you seen your life? Everyone you know is trying to kill you. Of course I stayed. You’re just as lucky to have run into me, you know.”

“Are you sure that’s the only reason? Maybe you wanted to find out what your real name was or what kind of dog you had when you were three!” Cym rubbed furiously at his stinging eyes.

“It’s Dane.”

“What?” Cym’s hands stilled, and he peeked at Fourteen between his fingers.

“My name is Dane. My mother called me her little Viking warrior. And I didn’t have a dog. I had a cat named Charlie. He was a massive Russian blue I used as a pillow every night as I went to sleep.” Fourteen’s eyes flashed as he pushed into Cym’s personal space, closing in the gap Cym had created and forcing him to stumble backward. “I got it all back at the cemetery. I was planning on telling you everything then, but you took off like—” Fourteen stopped, looking like he had bitten into something rotten.

The storm had reached the shore and was sending flashes of lightning from the sky to hit the water. Cym put his arms around himself, huddling against the storm and Fourteen’s fury.

He stood before Cym, emotions bared, standing tall and proud in his righteous anger. Everything The Company had done to him had been stripped away, allowing Cym to see who he truly was. It was magnificent—and terrifying.

“I’m sorry,” Cym whispered.

The storm paused at the edge of the shore. Fourteen tucked his hands into his back pockets and cocked an eyebrow, listening.

Cym stared at a patch of mud on his sneaker. “I shouldn’t have left like that. I—I scared the hell out of myself back at the cemetery. I knew if I stayed with you, I was going to get you killed!” His eyes shot up to meet Fourteen’s. “How could I live with that?”

Fourteen’s eyes softened. “You know, when I first met you, all I wanted to do was throw you on the first bus I could find, but I couldn’t. Even before I touched you, there was something about you I couldn’t walk away from.” He reached out and took Cym’s hand in his. “You’re so much more alive than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“So back at the cemetery when you yelled at me not to touch you?” Cym’s voice was small.

Fourteen let out a short laugh and rubbed his free hand against the back of his neck. “I was stoned out of my mind. I wasn’t thinking when I knocked you down and accidentally touched your skin because all I cared about was keeping you safe. Your magic packs one hell of a punch if I’m not expecting it. Every time I got my bearings, you just rolled me under again and made me as useful as a rock. We’re going to have to be careful about that in the future.”

Future. Fourteen wanted a future with Cym.

Cym didn’t have to worry about driving Fourteen insane because, impossibly, he wasn’t affected negatively by Cym’s magic. A smile touched Cym’s lips.

Cym could have good things.

He could have this.

“I guess we will.” Sunshine broke through the clouds and warmed Cym’s face. The world around them grew brighter until the edges of reality softened and blurred into nothing.

Chapter 10Marshall

Marshall ignored the spell that washed over him as he drove down the overgrown road leading to the Blaike Compound. It was a harmless but powerful suggestion that encouraged the recipient to find another, better-traveled road to get to the beach.

If the Blaike family hadn’t insisted on having their home right next to the ocean, they wouldn’t have needed such a powerful spell to protect their privacy. But they had power and money to burn, so they did what they liked.

The further in Marshall drove, the more his inner sight conflicted with the information his eyes were giving him. According to them, the road had given way to the forest, and he was now plowing his truck through a tree and heading straight for a large rock formation. His inner sight told him they were driving down a neatly maintained cobblestone road leading toward an imposing brass gate bracketed by rock walls on either side.

In the seat next to him, Adelle touched her index finger and thumb together making a circle then pulled them apart abruptly, like a popping bubble. Suddenly Marshall’s inner sight and his eyes agreed with one another again.