Runebinder (The Runebinder Chronicles #1)(49)

“You okay?” Jarrett asked.

Tenn sniffed and wiped away the tears. Amazingly, Water didn’t rage—especially strange, since Tenn wasn’t forcing it into submission.

“Yeah,” Tenn replied. For the most part, he actually meant it.

Jarrett sat down next to him. In the frigid room, Jarrett’s heat was like a furnace.

“You’re freezing,” Jarrett said. He rubbed his hand along Tenn’s back. Tenn practically purred.

“I run cold.”

Jarrett sighed, like there was something deep weighing on his mind. When he spoke, though, he kept his voice light.

“So what do you think? Want to move to a city or the country?”

It was so absurd Tenn laughed aloud.

“What’s so funny?” Jarrett asked.

“Sorry,” he replied, but chuckles still built up in the back of his throat.

“I’m serious,” Jarrett said. “I figured you’d be more of a country boy. And besides, every Earth user I know prefers staying away from large groups of people.”

Tenn nuzzled his face against Jarrett’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I think I’d like that,” he admitted. “A place in the middle of the woods, maybe by a stream. Nothing too fancy, of course... I just need a fireplace and some trees and I’m happy.”

“Dog or cat?”

“Both.”

He never thought he’d have this conversation again. Tenn had only had a few friends at the Academy, but he and one girl—Amanda—would go out for lunch every once in a while and chat about their dream houses. He’d always had this beautiful log cabin in mind.

This was the first time he’d let himself dare believe that he could one day occupy it along with someone else.

“I’d love a wolfhound myself,” Jarrett mused. “Don’t know where you’d get one anymore, though.”

Tenn didn’t want to wonder if there were any more wolfhounds left in the world, so he pushed the conversation down a different path.

“What about you? City or country?”

“Oh, I’d be okay with the country. So long as it was near enough to a city. Culture and all.”

Tenn laughed.

“Yeah,” he said, “can’t miss out on all those concerts and museums.”

“Hey, art’s important,” Jarrett said. “Art and love are what we fight for.”

Tenn sealed his lips. Fight for was just a reminder that this little fantasy was just that—a fantasy. There’d never be a cabin in the woods or an apartment in the city, no black-tie affairs at the symphony or fancy dinner parties.

It made him sink a little lower.

“Hey,” Jarrett said, noticing the swift decline. He shifted a bit. “Don’t go down there.”

“Sorry,” Tenn replied. “It’s just...”

Jarrett nodded, their foreheads pressing together. “I know,” he said. “But no matter what the future looks like, I’m still going to fight for it. So long as it includes you.”

Then he leaned in a bit farther and kissed Tenn on the lips.

Tenn was still swirling down in the cesspool of his thoughts, but that kiss was a buoy, a tie to dry land. It filled him with hope, with light, and it made the world golden again, gilded in a way that lasted longer than his intoxication. And he knew, so long as he had Jarrett, that thread would always be there. There’d always be a way out. A way forward.

The war would always be worth winning.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN

TENN WOKE WELL before dawn, when the sky outside was just starting to turn blue with light. His heart raced, but he couldn’t remember his dreams or why he’d woken up with sweat drenching his skin. Jarrett sprawled out beside him, his breath deep and regular. Despite the fear racing in his chest, the last few hours bled through his memory in a golden hum. There had never been any question about Jarrett sharing his bed. Just as there had never been a question as to what would happen.

He lay there for a few seconds, watching Jarrett breathe, watching his bare chest rise and fall, letting his own nightmarish heart settle. Tenn reached over, gently traced a scar on Jarrett’s pec, let his fingers memorize the guy’s smooth skin, his heat. Jarrett mumbled something and curled over, toward Tenn. Tenn let himself be swept up, encircled. Jarrett even smelled like home, in a way he couldn’t quite place. He kissed Jarrett’s muscled forearm. Somehow, that brought to mind Tomás.

He knew the Kin would be back. He knew he was still a target. But he wasn’t as afraid, not anymore. He wasn’t alone. And, frankly, he had someone that put even the incubus to shame.

Someday, though, he would have to tell Jarrett about Tomás. He would have to. He just wanted to ensure he was ready—he had to be able to kill the incubus before Tomás could kill anyone else. It made him burn inside, this secret, but at least he knew it was keeping the others safe.

Still, something tugged at the edge of his consciousness. Something that sounded like fading screams.

He uncurled himself from Jarrett’s arms, then pushed himself out of bed and wrapped a fallen quilt around his shoulders before padding over to the window as silently as possible. Moonlight peeked out from the clouds. Everything glowed silver in those patches of moonlight, gently covered with snow—the farmhouses, the gas station, the trees. Straight out of a painting.