Page 115 of Threadbound

And kept gaping as Bran got up, crossed the tiny room in two steps, took Jamie’s plate from his nervous fingers and set it on the side table, and then grabbed Jamie’s face and kissed him for all he was worth.

At first,Jamie didn’t respond, and Bran wasn’t sure if the half-breed was going to shove him away or jerk his head back or?—

Then Jamie’s fingers slid into his hair as he sucked Bran’s lower lip into his mouth, and Bran practically forgot his ownname. He let his hands slide down from Jamie’s jaw to his broad shoulders, feeling muscle and bone shift under his palms as Jamie held him close. And then Jamie’s hands moved to his back, big fingers slotting between Bran’s ribs as his tongue claimed Bran’s mouth.

Bran’s previous lovers had all been casual—playful, teasing. Not in the least possessive. But the feel of Jamie’s hands gripping his ribcage, the almost-rough plundering of his mouth, the scrape of Jamie’s teeth against his lower lip… It sent a fire through Bran’s veins like nothing he’d felt before.

Jamie’s fingers tightened against his ribs, and Bran let out a soft sound against Jamie’s lips. But then Jamie pushed him back, both of them breathless.

Bran frowned at him.

“Are you—can you…” Jamie trailed off, his face uncertain.

“Can I what?” Bran asked him, his whole body tense.

“Can… you take your fae form here?” Jamie asked, his voice hesitant.

Bran blinked. Jamie wanted him to take his true form? “Aye,” he answered, a little confused. “Why?”

Jamie swallowed, his crystal blue eyes dropping, the dark lines of his lashes fanned out against his cheeks. “Because this feels… not quite right.”

“Oh.” Bran tried to take a step back, a sense of shame rising along his throat, but Jamie’s hands tightened, holding him in place.

“No! I mean. That’s not—” The half-breed’s cheeks blushed red. “Imean,” he tried again, “that I like you asyou. Your fae form. This is like… a costume. Not the real you.”

“Oh.” This time, he breathed it out, pleasure replacing embarrassment flushing under his skin. “Aye,” he said again. “I can do that.” He offered a small smile.

This time, when he stepped back, Jamie let him go. A gesture dispensed with the more problematic articles of clothing—specifically, socks and shoes. Not that Bran wasn’t interested in getting rid of all of it, but he didn’t want to alarm Jamie—even though it wouldn’t be the first time Jamie’d seen him nude, it felt like everything was new and precariously balanced, and the last thing Bran wanted to do was upset either Jamie or their new equilibrium by moving too fast.

A deep breath, and the shift rippled through his body, adjusting bones—particularly in his feet and hands—reshaping teeth, altering skin and nails and hair. He kept his eyes closed, allowing the third eyelid to slide into place under the primary lid before opening both, a little afraid of what he would see on Jamie’s face.

Not that Jamie didn’t already know what he looked like. They’d spent days together—constantly snipping at each other—so it wasn’t like Jamie wasn’t familiar with Bran’s fae form.

But still.

What he saw when he looked up was a heat so intense it burned blue and ignited matching flames somewhere under his breast bone. Jamie turned, dropping his feet to the floor—taking them off the ottoman where they’d been resting—spreading his knees and reaching for Bran’s hips.

The talons on Bran’s toes scrabbled slightly against the wooden floor as Jamie pulled him in almost—but not quite—roughly, Bran’s hands grasping Jamie’s shoulders to steady himself.

But Jamie wasn’t interested in giving Bran time to catch either his balance or his breath, and one hand moved from his hip to grasp the front of Bran’s shirt, pulling his lips back to Jamie’s. Bran raked his taloned fingers through Jamie’s messy blond hair, and Jamie groaned into his mouth, muffled as Bran swallowed the sound.

And then Jamie pulled back again, and Bran let out a half-whimper of protest. Jamie didn’t move any further away, but he didn’t go back to kissing Bran either, leaning forward and resting his forehead against Bran’s chest, his big, warm hands resting on Bran’s hipbones. Bran kept stroking his fingers through Jamie’s hair.

“Jamie?” he asked softly, confusion and nerves balled in his stomach.

“I—I can’t do this,” Jamie rasped.

“Canna do what?” Bran asked, surprised at the intensity of the emotion that rose in the back of his throat, his hands stilling in Jamie’s silky hair.

Jamie drew in a long, deep breath, then let it out, the air fluttering the fabric of Bran’s shirt. “I’m not—I can’t just—I can’t do just sex,” Jamie answered, stammering his way through the admission. “I—I don’t want that. I want—” His voice faltered.

“I dinna want this to be just sex,” Bran told the top of his head. “I dinna know what we are, or what we might be someday. But…” He had to pause to swallow, his mouth dry. “I care about you, Jamie Weaver.” It was a simple truth—and yet it was so much more complicated. Bran had spent so long being repulsed—or so he’d thought—by Jamie that he couldn’t say when the seeds had first taken root, but they’d wound their way deep into his blood and bones, and he’d only noticed when Jamie had tried to pull them out.

The days Bran had spent in Elfhame after Jamie had left had felt hollow and jagged, as though pieces of his nervous system had been torn out, leaving him raw and exposed, aching everywhere. Not physically. His wounds had healed, and even though the effects of thegeàrd soilleir’s poison had left him weak, they didn’t cause him physical pain anymore. And his magic was once again stable, so it hadn’t been that, either.

He’d just missed Jamie so much it hurt.

That had been a shock—they’d been arguing, half-avoiding each other, and deliberately ignoring one another when they’d been in the same room. But Bran had nevertheless seen Jamie every day, spoken to him every day, even if in clipped tones. Sometimes avoided speaking to him while occupying the same space, but they had shared that space, breathed the same air. They had been at odds, but, somehow, Jamie had still seemed indispensable—like air or water.

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