Chapter Text
The warm evening sun and city sounds washed over Tharion like a tangible wave as he pushed through the doors of Bryce’s apartment to the street. It was like breaking the surface of the Istros, when the smothering press of water on his eardrums switched instantaneously to the vibrations of open air. Just like emerging from the river, Tharion sucked down a harsh breath and tasted the scents carried on the breeze around them. This time, there was no pleasant burn that came with the expanding of his lungs and no tingling on his neck as gills closed over. His body had adjusted hours before when he’d picked up Bryce and Hunt from the Bone Quarter, but his chest still tried to heave like it didn’t know what to do with the air.
Tharion glanced over his shoulder and could tell that Ruhn and Ithan were similarly dazed. Both males stood glued to the spot on the sidewalk, gazing vacantly around the street that still bustled with everyday traffic. Tharion’s eyes connected with Danaan’s, and he searched the male’s face for some signal, some semblance of something to reflect what the fuck he should be feeling right now. Ruhn’s mouth parted slightly as he toyed with the ring through his lip, then pursed into a thin line. Tharion mirrored the expression momentarily, then he couldn’t keep it down–a spluttering snort ripped from him and transformed into a roaring laugh.
Mirth rekindled in Ruhn’s weary eyes as he bit down on a chuckle, then another, then he was doubled over, laughing down at his leather boots with his hands braced on his knees. Tharion kept laughing, tilting his head up and closing his eyes as the sun lit his eyelids from behind.
“I mean, what the fuck,” Ithan huffled the words out around his own subdued laughter. “Also, what the fuck is wrong with you both.”
“Ouch.” Tharion opened his eyes to look at the male, placing a hand to his heart in mock offense.
“Once you pass a certain number of near-death experiences in a day–” Ruhn righted himself and threw an arm around the wolf’s shoulder, hauling him in closer, “–they stop being fucking terrifying and start being hilarious. That, or the whiskey I drank is finally hitting.”
The soft smile that spread on Ithan’s face attempted to do something stupid inside Tharion’s chest. The wolf leaned so easily into the contact, it made him wonder about the last time someone had touched him. Aside from the bull shifter trash that had tried to feel Ithan up at Kala’s bar the other day. The thought brought a quick succession of feelings; a tender ache burned up by rage, then simmered into… something.
Ithan’s eyes lifted to meet Tharion’s and fuck, he’d been staring, hadn’t he? He must have been staring, because the smile faltered a little and faded from the wolf’s face. A feverish need to bring it back crackled through the mer, but years’ worth of suppression kicked in to keep him still, his face unmoving. Captain Whatever has some skills after all , Tharion thought.
Ithan turned a little under Ruhn’s arm, and said, “Would it be cool with you if I meet you at your place in a bit? I forgot that I left some stuff upstairs.”
“Sure. It’ll give me a head start on moving enough of Flynn and Dec’s shit so that you have a place to sleep.” Ruhn gave a wry grin, then turned to Tharion. “But to be safe, I don’t think you should be alone right now. Sabine’s a coward, and cowards do dumb shit when they’re licking their wounds.”
“I can puppy-sit for you, Prince,” Tharion made sure he sounded droll as he said it.
“Don’t be such a dick, Fishbreath.” Ruhn sighed. He let go of Ithan, gave Tharion a typical male punch-to-the-arm goodbye, and started north towards his apartment. Tharion watched him go until his dark head of hair turned a corner, then was out of sight.
“I don’t need anyone to watch me.” Ithan muttered, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets.
Tharion crossed his arms over his chest. “What about someone to watch your back?” he asked. Ithan’s gaze dropped down to Tharion’s arms, then flicked away.
“Should I call Bryce? You know I’ve got Legs on speed dial.” Tharion flicked out his phone, unlocking it swiftly.
“No, I… I wanted to talk to you.” Ithan squared his shoulders. “Why did you say that?"
“Well, I would have figured that taking you to my underwater lair and then to my favorite bar would have counted as a friendly activity for friends. Danaan has always rather loosely interpreted dibs, anyway, just ask that very shapely raven shifter next time–”
“No,” Ithan interrupted. “Why did you say that to Sabine? That you’d witness?”
Ithan’s eyes held Tharion’s, bright and burning with determination. There was something else to the deep brown of those eyes that Tharion couldn’t parse. It rekindled that ache deep in the mer’s chest. Tharion swallowed, but his gaze didn’t falter.
“Someone had to call her bluff. She was outnumbered in enemy territory, and she’s terrified of Bryce. There’s no way she would have made it out alive with all of us there, and she knew it.”
It was true, but it was the wrong thing to say. A muscle in Ithan’s jaw flexed, and the warmth of his eyes chilled to deep, muddy water.
Ithan’s tone was just as cold. He huffed a laugh and said, “So it was Bryce, then? The Hellhound didn’t seem to think I could take her either.”
“Only an idiot wouldn't be afraid of Legs, Holstrom. She’s wicked.” Tharion said, winking.
Ithan cut his eyes to the side, and shouldered past Tharion to follow the path Ruhn had taken.
“Thanks for the chat, Tharion.” Ithan spat, “Always glad to know your opinion on things. See you around.”
A jarring burst of electricity hit Tharion’s chest upon hearing the wolf say his name. The shock skittered across his skin, and it took the mer a moment to regain his senses.
“Wait, fuck–” Tharion stepped forward, catching Ithan by the elbow, and turning him. Ithan faced the mer, but kept his eyes down. “You’re a good male, Ithan. I vouched for you because Sabine Fendyr doesn’t deserve to make decisions for herself, let alone for the Valbarran wolves. I’ve seen the vainglorious ruler type enough times to know that you’re different. You’re the opposite. If Sabine’s going to be ousted by anyone, I would want it to be someone kind, someone good. Or at least,” Tharion gave a wry smile, because he couldn’t resist, “someone very good-looking.”
“Are you capable of going 30 seconds without flirting with the nearest living thing?” Ithan scoffed, but Tharion didn’t think he imagined the flush that burned across the wolf’s freckled cheeks.
“Honestly? I don’t think you’d like me as much if I didn’t.” Tharion’s smile bloomed like something beautiful and deadly.
The pink dusting Ithan’s face deepened, but the wolf pulled his arm out of Tharion’s grip. Tharion let his hand drop, skimming his knuckles down Ithan’s tan forearm on the way down.
“Who said I liked you at all?” Ithan said, breath hitching slightly. His eyes dropped, hovering over Tharion’s mouth.
Tharion leaned forward, feeling the intense heat of the wolf’s body beckoning him closer. The mer’s eyes mirrored the shifter, landing on the other male’s lips. Ithan’s mouth wasn’t spared from the smattering of dark freckles across his face. Without thinking, Tharion laid his palm at Ithan’s neck and swiped the pad of his thumb across that lush, freckled lower lip. Ithan’s lips parted, and Tharion felt a hot breath ghost over his fingers.
Solas, but the male was warmer than the late sun beating down on Lunathion. It had been so long since Tharion had been truly warm, and he had certainly never felt warmth like what radiated from Ithan Holstrom. Tharion remembered being young and floating his body up so that his entire front was touched by sunlight, absorbing as much of the buttery heat as he could before returning to the depths. His sister would come with him, floating alongside him, holding onto Tharion’s arm so she wouldn’t drift away.
Tharion opened his eyes, realizing that he had closed them. Ithan’s eyelashes fluttered as his eyes climbed the mer’s face, meeting his gaze. A question burned within the warm brown, but Tharion didn’t know the right answer.
“I should go.” Tharion said, though it came out barely a whisper. He dropped his hand from Ithan’s neck, flexing his fingers to chase away the lingering burn.
Tharion turned on his heels and pushed down the street towards the River Gate. Towards home, towards his Queen, towards his responsibilities and obligations.
He didn’t look back to see Ithan, fixed to the spot. Couldn’t see him raise a hand to the still-hot place on his neck, mirroring the touch with his own palm. Right over the Black Rose tattoo.