Aidan and Kianna sat around the bonfire, far away from the castle walls and the destruction they’d left behind, the city smoldering on the horizon, painting the night as red as the blood they’d spilled. Even from here, Aidan’s chest ached with the call of Fire.
After Calum had fallen, it had been a pretty quick job sweeping up the rest of the Howls and necromancers that hadn’t died in the first few minutes of the attack. Without their leader, and with the Guild’s morale boosted, Calum’s forces fell like cards.
The Guild had been hit heavily, but victory was all that mattered.
Fire told him as much, and if he began to doubt that, he would need to doubt a whole hell of a lot of other things.
Aidan had expected Kianna to grill him about what happened in the castle. His lie had come swiftly and succinctly—she’d been struck by a hidden guard, gotten knocked out. Trevor and a few others came in and helped take Calum down, but had sadly died in the process.
He made sure to make his voice catch when he mentioned the last part.
The surprising thing wasn’t the ease with which he came up with the lie, but the ease with which she accepted it. And when they came back down from the hill and helped destroy the last of the necromancers and Howls still fighting back, the troops had accepted the news, as well.
It was a shame that Trevor had fallen in battle. But falling in battle was the name of the game, and to die killing Calum was the greatest of honors. Or so Aidan had reminded the troops.
He hadn’t mentioned that he was—ignoring that whole “exile” thing—now in command. He didn’t need to.
The moment he held up Calum’s head and claimed the title of King as his, his comrades had erupted in cheer. He was swept up in the tide. Regaled as a hero.
As he should have been all along.
Around them, the remaining troops laughed and drank. Aidan wasn’t certain which of them had decided to bring the victory booze, or maybe someone had found a wellspring of whiskey in a ruined house. They had set up camp about a mile from Edinburgh, in what seemed to be an old football field. A myriad of tents were scattered about, their colors sharp and shadowed in the firelight. The surviving Hunters had been healed by Earth mages, who were now mostly fast asleep, which meant everyone awake was celebrating. Somewhere in the camp, Calum’s head was being paraded around on a pike. What was left of it, at least.
Turned out, there were quite a few people with a lot of unspent aggression toward the Kin, and bashing his head in was as satisfactory postmortem as pre.
Even better, for the first time in what felt like months, it wasn’t raining.
Maybe Aidan’s luck was finally improving.
He took another drink of whisky and looked to a guy sitting across the fire from him. Pale Irish skin, curly black hair and beard, an angular face covered in dirt and recently healed scars. Aidan barely remembered the dude’s name. Gregory or something. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the fact that the guy kept looking over. A different fire sparked through Aidan’s chest every time he did. He fought down the blush that rose in his cheeks and turned it to something he could use, an anticipation, a desire to hunt in a different way.
His luck was definitely improving.
“I think he wants you,” Kianna said, following Aidan’s not-very-hidden stare.
Aidan just took a swig of whisky and found solace in the fire that burned down his throat. “That doesn’t matter. The question is whether or not I want him.”
He knew he should have felt bad about Trevor. For lying to Kianna. For making his own friend an unknowing accomplice. But that voice was small, and suffocating, and the more he fed his doubt to the flames, the less he feared retribution.
He had killed Calum.
Liberated Scotland.
What did it matter, the casualties along the way?
He stared over at Gregory and fed all the uncertainty into the fire, let the heat inside him grow with a different need. A different sort of victory. In that moment, he realized that yes, yes—he wanted, and would have, Gregory.
“What about you?” he asked her. “Any lads or lassies you want to bone?”
“Please never say ‘lad’ or ‘lassie’ again. You sound like a tourist.”
He laughed and nudged her in the side. Gregory looked over at the sound. Aidan grinned at him, his heart flipping over with excitement. After his time with Tomás, he was horny as hell. If he couldn’t take the incubus, Gregory would be a fair consolation prize.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Aidan said.
Kianna glanced over her shoulder, to another Hunter-ringed fire. “Maybe,” was all she said.
“Och, c’mon. You deserve a victory shag.”
“I deserve many victory shags,” she said. “Especially since I know this will only inflate your ego. I can’t even imagine how terrible dealing with you will be from here on out.”
Aidan winked. “You flatter me.”
She bit her lip, and her face shifted to concern. “Are you sure you’re okay?” It wasn’t a question she often asked him—it got too close to prodding, which they’d sworn against years ago. The first time he’d tried to get her to admit that she was upset, she’d broken his arm. Thankfully, they’d been near an Earth mage at the time. He told himself she had known that when she did it, but he wasn’t exactly convinced. “I know you pretend you’re a hard-ass, but I know Trevor meant a lot to you.”
He looked to the fire. And even though that should have made him feel better, should have made his Sphere burn with recognition, all he could see was Trevor’s face in the flames.
He had to convince himself that this had been the only way. Trevor had seen too much. They all had. Aidan would have been questioned, or tortured, or worse. It was either him or them.
When it came down to it, he would always put himself first. Him, and Kianna.
He had to.
“I will be,” he said. “It’s...it’s going to take some time.”
She nodded. Leaned in a little closer. “You know...you know you can always talk to me, right? I’m your mate. I love the hell out of you.” She paused, and he looked over, watched her expression change in the flames. For the first time in all the years he had known her, she actually looked vulnerable. Maybe it was because this was the first time he’d ever seen her tipsy; she didn’t like the thought of being impaired, when an attack could happen at any moment. “You got me out of there. You saved my life. I should have thanked you. Just know...just know I’ll always be there for you. Always.”
Guilt twisted in Aidan’s chest, and he had to look away. He hoped she would think it was because he was bad at dealing with emotions.
Not because he was lying through his teeth.
“Thank you,” he replied. “I’ve got your back, too.” That, at least, would always be true. For everything she’d done for him—for not abandoning him when everyone else had—he would always have her back.
He just had to convince himself that right now, having her back involved lying. To save her from the harsh truth that her best friend was a monster.
She leaned over then, and hugged him awkwardly. He flinched under her touch in spite of himself. He’d known her since the Resurrection, and this was probably only the fourth or fifth time they’d hugged. In that moment, he was reminded that she was just like him—young and fucked up and scared. Only she didn’t have magic to take off the edge.
She didn’t have Fire telling her that weakness was death.
He wondered what inner voice was.
“Okay, arsehole,” she said, leaning back. “Enough of this shite. I’m gonna go get laid.” She looked over to Gregory, who was making a great show of not paying them any attention. “Looks like you’re going to have your hands full.”
“Hope so,” Aidan replied.
Kianna stood, using his shoulder as a prop, and looked over to Gregory. “You treat this boy right,” she said. “He owns your ass now.”
Gregory smiled, a blush rising in his cheeks, and before Aidan could yell at Kianna to shut up, she turned from the fire and went to join another. Aidan watched her stumble off.
“Think she’ll be okay?” Gregory asked.
Aidan started. He looked over to Gregory, who had moved close enough that their elbows nearly touched. Aidan tried to turn the guilt and the fear into desire.
He had won. He had gotten away with everything.
He ruled Scotland.
And now, he needed to claim his prize.
One of many prizes.
“She’ll be okay,” Aidan said.
“Good,” Gregory said, his words a lilting brogue. He held up his mug. “So, em, congratulations.”
Aidan clinked mugs. Took a sip. But he didn’t take his eyes off of Gregory.
In the back of his mind, he knew that if he stalled, his thoughts would get the better of him. Already, he could smell the burn of Trevor’s flesh, could hear the echo of his comrades’ screams. Try as he might, those weren’t images that Fire could consume.
He needed a distraction. And he knew just how to get it.
“I have a few ideas of how you could help celebrate my victory,” Aidan said.
“Oh?” Gregory asked. He cocked his head to the tent. “Maybe you could tell me in private. Or better yet...” He leaned in, pressed a hand against Aidan’s thigh, sending heat coursing through his chest. “Maybe you could show me.”
Aidan didn’t think. He just leaned forward, closed the gap between them, and pressed his lips to Gregory’s. There wasn’t a spark, not like with Tomás, but he found a flame. A hunger. One that could make even Trevor’s screams fade away. And when Gregory shifted and sat on Aidan’s lap, straddling him in one swift motion, Aidan let Fire out to play.