Page 78 of Threadbound

“No,” Bran replied, but when he spoke again, all teasing was gone from his tone. “We draw our strength, our power, from the night and death, from pain and violence and fear. We canna make ourselves any other way.”

“What if you don’twantto?” Jamie asked.

Bran’s expression was deadly serious. “The weak dinna survive long in Elfhame.”

Chapter

Thirty-Two

Jamie had spent the better part of the last five days trying not to think too hard about what Bran had said about the Sluagh—specifically, the part about how they got their power from fear and pain and death. Especially the death part. It wasn’t easy, given that he and Bran essentially lived on top of each other.

It was hard not to think about the fact that the fae sleeping on his floor needed him for power, but also derived power from torturing and killing. Or… something? Jamie hadn’t asked for details, because he didn’t want to know them.

He’d also started looking up more about fairies and fae—and, especially, the Sluagh—in the library when Bran wasn’t with him… which was also making him feel guilty. Like he was spying on Bran or doing a weird background check on him or something. Jamie’d always felt uncomfortable even looking his dates up on social media—what Trixie referred to aspreemptive stalking. Even though he didn’t like doing it, Trixie and Rob both argued that it was better to look at someone’s public social media profiles just in case they were into something awful or even just had political opinions Jamie wasn’t willing to tolerate. Trixie had once tried to argue that he shouldn’t date a guy who’dbeen a huge ABBA fan, but Ulric had been okay. It certainly hadn’t been ABBA that had kept them from getting serious.

That had been Jamie.

It was pretty much always Jamie who found reasons not to get more serious in his relationships. Sometimes the other guy felt the same—or similar—and ended things first, because Jamie also hated being confrontational. But he’d never once had his heart broken in love.

Which was completely irrelevant to Jamie’s current predicament. Now he just had to figure out whether or not the fae he was letting live in his apartment was evil… or at least dangerous. Or… something.

Jamie couldn’t decide if he’d read too many stories about fae or not enough. Because he’d not read about anything quite like Bran, but he’d also read more than enough legends and fables and cautionary tales that told him to never invite a fae inside—too late—to never feed a fae—also too late—and to never accept a gift from a fae—far, far too late.

He had read a few that talked about how it was good to have a fae in your debt—which Bran claimed he was—and that if you ever found one sick or dying, if you helped them, they would grant wishes. But Jamie didn’t have any wishes he wanted Bran to grant, and Bran hadn’t offered to grant any. He’d read far too many stories about genies and elves and other creatures offering wishes to ever want to ask for any. In fact, if Brandidoffer to grant any wishes, Jamie was pretty sure he’d run—even out of his own apartment, if it came down to it.

Instead, he let Bran pay for his own food, let him sleep on his pallet on the floor, and tried not to think too hard about the fact that he might be bound by some sort of magical contract that he didn’t understand. Andthatwas something that Jamie knew was dangerous—all contracts were. Except that Jamie didn’tremember agreeing to any contract. And he was pretty sure that he would have had to have agreed to one.

The whole thing was giving him a headache.

Especially since, despite his claims, Bran hadn’t ever done anything to hurt or frighten Jamie—and he’d certainly had more than enough opportunities to murder him in his sleep if he’d wanted to.

And that left Jamie entirely uncertain what to either think or do. Because on the one hand, he probably wasn’t supposed to have another person living in his tiny apartment for reasons of fire code or, at the very least, because Bran wasn’t on the lease. But on the other hand, he didn’t want to throw Branoutof his apartment because it was abundantly clear that the fae didn’t have anywhere else to go. Anywhere good, anyway.

Which left Jamie in a difficult position—not because he begrudged Bran shelter or food, especially since Bran was paying for that, but because Jamie wasn’t sure what he was supposed todo. He could keep letting Bran stay with him, keep making him dinner, but what did thatmean? Where was it supposed togo?

The questions were the same ones he’d asked about relationships he’d been in, but not like this one. For one thing, what he had with Bran wasn’t… a relationship, exactly. Not in the romantic sense, anyway. For another, Bran needed him, and not in an emotional or sexual way. Just… needed him. For a third… Jamie wanted this one to go somewhere.

Or, at least, he thought he did before Bran went and told him about the whole death-and-pain-and-fear thing.

And now he didn’t know what he wanted.

Because part of him still very much wanted Bran. And part of him recognized just how much trouble that might land him in.

When Jamie left the library,tired and even more frustrated than he had been when he walked into the building, he found Bran waiting for him outside. His heart skipped a beat—excited to see the smaller fae. But it also rose into his throat with a faint thrill of… not quite fear, but nerves. It was chilly, and Bran was huddled in a coat that he’d bought from the thrift shop, one of the half-dozen scarves Nell Eckel née Weaver had made for her son wrapped around his neck.

Jamie had lent it to him—and the multicolored green and blue and brown wool against Bran’s fair skin made Jamie’s heart feel oddly warm despite the cold of the outside air. It rarely got this cold in Tennessee—although Jamie knew it would get colder still as the days wended their way into December and the winter solstice.

Jamie couldn’t help but want to know what it would be like to feel Bran’s warmth against him—his skin, the fog of his breath…

Jamie pushed the thought from his mind as Bran stood, waiting at the bottom of the library stairs for Jamie to join him.

“Hey,” Jamie greeted him.

“Did you have a productive day?” the fae asked him.

Jamie shrugged. “Not as much as I’d have liked,” he answered honestly, although he had no intention of telling Bran what exactly it was that he’d been researching. Especially because he hadn’t actually found an answer. Not one he was satisfied with, anyway.

“Maybe tomorrow,” was Bran’s response.

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