“I’ll close the windows,” was all Iason said, pushing away from the wall and turning his back on Levi, on whatever that was that had sparked between them. The storm was already fading as he shoved at the first one, and by the time he’d gotten to the others, the sky beyond the rain-streaked glass was clearing, the sun turning the clouds over the sea to fire.
ChapterFive
For the first time in longer than he cared to consider, Iason lay on a real bed in a room that was, for now, his own. It was difficult to relax, even after a meal of seared bass and a bath made slightly awkward by the dragon trying to eat the soap out of his hair. He was so used to sleeping on the ground that the mattress was too soft, and every time he adjusted himself, the god sitting on the windowsill turned to look at him.
Levi had declined the bed when Iason offered it, and Sophie was already passed out in her own bedroom downstairs, Argo curled up in a basin of water on her bedside table. That left Levi sitting in the open window like one of the statues they carved on the roofs of Kallistoi mansions, gazing out at the starry night sky. He was naked again, comfortable with himself in a way Iason could never manage, and every time he glanced toward Iason, Iason couldn’t stop himself from thinking of Levi’s mouth on his, the sharp, pleasant sting of pain as he bit down.
Iason had never truly had a lover. He’d tried with Alistair, at least once, but what little he could recall was awkward and disappointing, with Alistair laughing it off while Iason pretended nothing had happened at all. Desire wasn’t a priority for him the way it was for others. While Alistair wandered after pretty older women and men in every inn and public eating house they passed and talked at length about his latest conquest, Iason couldn’t force himself to feel the same. Not even with Alistair. Of course, people could be attractive, but it never made him want to rip his clothes off and make a fool of himself.
Why, then, had he felt a stirring when Levi kissed him? He looked at Levi, watching the way the moonlight gilded his long limbs and inhumanly elegant face. Levi was certainly beautiful and strange, human and yet not human at all, echoes of his dragon form showing in how he held himself, the way he moved his head as though used to a longer, more sinuous neck. But Iason didn’t want the body in the window the same way he’d wanted Levi earlier.
He thought of how Levi had spoken to him—the tone in his voice that wasn’t arrogance but certainty in his own power. Levi didn’t make excuses for Iason or turn aside in disgust at what he was. He didn’t mince his words or hold back. It was a challenge, unspoken and oddly thrilling: a god seeing Iason as he was and still expecting him to handle the brunt of Levi’s divine power. Iason felt a rush of heat at the thought, at the memory of Levi demanding his gaze, refusing to let him cower or compromise, even if all Iason had to offer was irreverence and hostility.
“You’re staring, wizard,” Levi said, and Iason felt that thrill again, his cock hardening, fingers clenching under the sheets. Of course he would desire the dominance of a god who’d tried to eat him the first time they met.
“So are you,” Iason said, and turned onto his side. “Close the window. You’ll let in a draft.”
“Don’t give me orders,” Levi said, but his voice didn’t have the sharp note of command in it. Iason tried not to think of the pressure of Levi’s grip on his chin or the sting of his teeth on Iason’s neck, and he lay in the dark while Levi sat in the window, soaking up moonlight.
He must have slept eventually, because when he opened his eyes, the sun was out and Sophie was staging a rebellion of her own.
“Lazaros doesn’t let anyone under sixteen do the dangerous stuff,” she said, carrying a grinning Argo in a bucket, her face set. “You heard what he’d have me do—fishing and spell nets and things. Also, I’d have been introduced to society this year, so you technically can’t stop me from doing anything.”
“We don’t have society here,” Iason said, standing barefoot in the kitchen in rumpled clothes, his hair a mess. “But you’ll sneak out no matter what I say, won’t you?”
“I want to help,” Sophie said, which wasn’t a no.
“Fine.” They were close enough to the beach to reach each other if there was trouble, and Sophie had spent plenty of time on her own in Staria. He had to admit that Levi had a point: Sophie could use a little independence. “See if they’ll pay you, though.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “It isn’t about that.”
“That’s what worries me,” he called after her, as Sophie headed out the door. Argo, who’d been trying to swallow an entire bar of soap, gagged it up and spat it on the kitchen floor as a parting gift.
“You look terrible,” Levi said, as Iason picked up the soap and tossed it into the sink. “Does sleep always do that to you? It’s as though you’ve been knocked about inside a ball for an hour.”
“That’s a surprisingly succinct way to explain how I feel,” Iason said. He hobbled to the bathroom. “Assassins don’t traditionally live past their thirties, even in places with guilds to protect them. I probably have hundred-year-old bones.”
“That’s impossible,” Levi said, as Iason gargled the teeth-cleaning solution that had been among their supplies.
Iason spat. “I thought gods and wizards were impossible, but here we are. I need to pull on your magic to replenish my illusion spell.”
“Why? No one else is here.”
“They could come to visit, and if Lazaros is clever, which he is, he’ll have people watching this house. We’re all too strange to set loose.”
Levi grumbled, and Iason turned to him with a scowl when he was finished in the bathroom. “What if I make it so only you and Sophie can see my true face? Is that better?”
“I could see through it anyway,” Levi muttered. “Go ahead, if you must.”
Iason tried to focus before he drew on the magic for his spell. Usually, when he cast the illusion over his face, he assumed the magic came from inside him. Now, as he let his awareness spread, he could sense a thin tendril of power twisting out of Levi. He wondered if all mages could see magic that way, or if it was simply wizards, then scowled in frustration as he realized, yet again, that this was something even the youngest mage should know.
When they were ready to work on their bond, they went out into the yard, a sparse garden with a few wilted herbs and wildflowers hardy enough to survive in soil so close to the sea. Iason sat between clumps of mint and reluctantly took Levi’s hands.
“At least I don’t have many memories left for you to observe,” he said, as he tried to focus as he did when he searched for magic. Levi’s power was like a furnace, but as he peered into it, Iason could see the barest strings of magical energy connecting them. He reached for them, and his hand thumped against Levi’s chest.
“Reach mentally, wizard,” Levi said, with a slight smile.
Iason tried again. His magical grasp slipped past the strings, but he felt a thrumming vibration run through his body as magic started to siphon into him, hot and relentless. He jammed the magic into the earth without finesse or care and felt leaves tickling his back as he tried to tug at the strings linking him to Levi.
