“But you would do that for anyone now,” Bel added, gentle. “Or, if not now, then soon enough.”
Nicodemus stared until his eyes were stinging. “So why not you? When the time comes, if the worlds allow?” He pictured it again, as he had in the street for two monsters to feel, and when he spoke his voice was hoarse. “I would not mind.”
Bel’s eyes hid nothing from him. “I do not want you tonot mind. The want that compels you to glance into Rings, the want that has you dressing up the manor as a home and which drew thatthingto you, the need that pulled you out into the dangerous night when you should have been in bed, and made you scrub up and bathe in lilac instead of lavender and yearn so much that I found you only moments beforeitdid. I would have all of that. I would take it, and you, so much you would never have a mindless rut again.”
Nicodemus’ mouth fell open.
Bel turned away, contemplating a fire that wasn’t there. “Perhaps I will find Alistair, after all. Or maybe Donovan, who should still be in town somewhere. They will think only of your safety and give me the space I need to put the beast down so that you won’t have to worry. And Holt will return soon.”
All of that, for Nicodemus, even though Nicodemus was what he was, who he was. “Bel.” Nicodemus could not manage more than that. “Bel.”
“I’ve never been to Alistair’s place in town. I only know it’s near the river. Do you know more?” Bel did not acknowledge Nicodemus’ breathless repetition of his name.
“A little.” Nicodemus responded automatically, as though this was solely about work. “The mail gets confused sometimes. Off Merry Alley, I think. He should be there for the week, he said. Oh. Of course, he will.” They really had all known. Nicodemus should have suspected it, but he hadn’t wanted to. They had avoided the manor to be kind, all of them expecting Holt to return. In fact, usually one of them lingered in the house if Holt was not there, at least until they were certain Holt was on his way. “I was alone this time.” He frowned. “You were the last one, but you didn’t stay until he was there.”
“I should’ve,” Bel agreed. “But I thought Holt was near and I had no desire to run into him. I like Holt,” he added mildly. “I would hate to dislike him.”
“And you would have?” Astonishment was not the word. Nicodemus gawped at him, blushing and foolish. He did not fawn over Holt, not even in the days leading up to his rut. At least he didn’t think he did. But the possibility that he might had been enough to drive Bel from the house. “Over me?” he asked uncertainly, gaze on Bel’s back, still stubbornly turned to him. “You never said.”
“You were afraid of me.” Bel had the answer ready. “You always have been, and rightly so. You knew, or sensed, what I was from nearly my first day in that house.”
“But you want me.” If Nicodemus hadn’t been sitting, he might have dropped to the floor like a stone. His legs felt shaky, his chest tight. Heat was curling through him like smoke. “You want me that much.” It was not even a whisper.
Bel snarled as he turned around, glaring at Nicodemus, then at the bed, then at his coat, which he grabbed and slipped on. His eyes were bright. “Perhaps we can use that,” he suggested, retying his hair back, smoothing all feeling from his face. “I can bring the creature to me instead of chasing it.”
“Use it?” Nicodemus was not ready to stand up. He watched Bel pace like the bedroom was a cage. “Wouldn’t it be easier to use me?”
That got Bel’s eyes on him again. Bel looked as if he could breathe fire.
“As bait,” Nicodemus elaborated weakly, shifting in place again. “You said, well, implied, that my want had drawn it in the first place. Twice now, in fact.”
“No.”
Nicodemus frowned. “Yes, you did.”
“I know I did.” Bel ceased his pacing to stand his ground. “The answer is no. It will draw you in, and it willtake its pleasure,” he echoed Nicodemus’ words with the growl in his voice, “however that may be, and then it will toss your remains out and enjoy my—” He shut his mouth hard, then took a deep breath. “Or it will keep you. As I think, perhaps, you might like something a lot gentler than a monster to do.”
Nicodemus’ heartbeat was thundering in his ears and he would have thought it was fear—itwasfear, some of it—if he could not also feel himself growing hard. He was still so very hot. “Is that what you would do? Keep me? Even when I am not full of want from this?”
Bel put his head back as if surprised, then said slowly, “Your current desires are icing. It would still want the cake.” Just as Bel did, though Bel would not say. He did not look pleased with whatever he saw in Nicodemus’ eyes. “Innocent, it willkeepyou there, and you cannot tend house in the Realm—at least, not with that thing.” He seemed to come to a decision. “Put on your coat.” He reached into his, revealing a knife Nicodemus had not known he had, or needed. Holt would say that was a foolish assumption; magic could not do everything. “Merry Alley, by the river? I think I know where that is. Where the artists and prostitutes won’t mind a peculiari as much as their more respectable neighbors.”
“I don’t like this.” Nicodemus’ coat had fallen to the floor. Bel retrieved it for him before Nicodemus could get his limbs to work properly. “You’re putting yourself in danger.”
“I was before. Nothing has changed. Coat, lambchop. And when we go out, I’d ask you to try not to worry, not to want, not to think of anything but what is of immediate concern.”
“Immediate concern,” Nicodemus tumbled to the floor onto his knees. He flushed to the tips of his ears and used the bed to clamber to his feet. “You’remy immediate concern.”
“You said I was heroic.” Bel watched Nicodemus gracelessly struggle into his coat, his mask in place again except for his eyes. “I would prefer you out of danger. Apparently, thatisenough to lure me. You were right.”
“What?” Nicodemus left his coat collar as it was and swept forward until he and Bel were nearly toe-to-toe. “What?” he asked again, fainter. “It lures you with want, you said. The Realm and this creature both.”
“So?” Bel watched him, as he always watched him.
Nicodemus was melting butter. “Maybe you should indulge that desire too.”
Bel’s breath was warm on his mouth. “I asked you to stop wanting.”
“Don’t you listen to yourself?” Nicodemus leaned in to demand, then gasped in surprise when Bel’s hand closed around his wrist and held firm. “Don’t you listen to yourself at all?”
