Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 2

his destiny. Who could not promise him he wasn't going mad. Who didn't have anything but "I'm sorry I'm an idiot and don't understand magic and ruined your life and made you eat a rabbit" for him.
    Tammas, infuriatingly oblivious, rubbed at Aeron's shoulders with his free hand. Eventually, he asked, "All out?"
    Aeron nodded and sat back on his heels. "Yes. I am empty." One thing to be thankful for, at least .
    Tammas let go Aeron's hair and finger combed it gently. He whispered, "I'm so sorry."
    Aeron shivered. That voice, so close to his ear.
    This wasn't right. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. He closed his eyes. "What kind of horrible place is this?"
    Tammas helped him to his feet and steadied him with surprising strength. He slipped beneath Aeron's arm and seemed to have some trouble deciding where to put his own. He eventually decided on looping it around Aeron's waist, below his wings— which Aeron thought would've been obvious. Tammas said, "Maybe you should try and eat some—"
    "No. No food." Aeron's stomach flipped at the thought.
    Tammas took him to a little well and gave him water to rinse his mouth, and then to drink. By then, Aeron could walk on his own two feet, and insisted on doing so, shaking off the mortal's arm and ignoring his doe-eyed, pleading looks. He collapsed into Tammas' bed when it was offered, and promptly fell asleep.
    ****
    In a dreamlike stupor, Aeron readjusted. Something pulled at his wings, and he tried to flick it off. They tangled with whatever it was, and it weighted them down.
    His eyes snapped open, and he shouted, " Get it off !" He hopped to his knees and wrestled with the infernal thing for a few seconds before he realized where he was and what had happened.
    Tammas jumped onto the bed and disentangled him from what turned out to be a blanket. Aeron mustered as much dignity as he could, stifling a sigh of relief. When he finished, Tammas placed a calming hand against his back. "I'm sorry. You were shivering last night, so I thought— thought a blanket would help. You, um..." He cleared his throat. "You should probably wear some of my clothes."
    Aeron glanced down at his chest, his legs folded beneath him, the small scrap of his garment, meant simply to "protect the dangly parts", as Awela was fond of saying. Tammas wore no shirt just then, and his torso was littered with patches of hair— not like fur, but thin and silky-looking. There was a particularly interesting trail of it that began at his navel and disappeared into his overprotective breeches.
    When Aeron looked up, Tammas' face was bright red. The man turned, sat at the edge of the bed, and leaned over with his elbows on his thighs.
    Aeron snorted. His throat felt dry and raw, and his mouth still tasted like sick. "You look ridiculous in all those clothes. I only look like myself."
    "To be sure." There was a small laugh in Tammas' voice. "But you can't go out like that."
    "You will—" He paused. After listening to Tammas for a while, he knew he wasn't doing that right. " You'll allow me to go out with you?"
    He sat straighter and looked over his shoulder. "Allow you? Could I stop you, now I've destroyed the wards?"
    "You have no others?" Aeron felt foolish again. He wondered if the story from last night was the truth; maybe Tammas really hadn't bound him. Maybe the summoning was an accident.
    Maybe he really was going mad.
    "Oh, uh, no more. Promise." Tammas stood and stretched. His back was less hairy, the skin smooth and golden-brown. Long lines of muscle sank prettily into the V at the small of his back.
    Maybe he should dress more like Aeron , instead. Idiot .
    CHAPTER 3
    They broke their fast on delicious flatbread and a sweet summerapple jam. This time, there were no corpses on the menu, but Aeron hadn't the stomach to thank his reluctant host. He was ravenous and wanted to keep the bread down.
    Tammas played with his little apothecary table, as he called it, pounding with a mortar and pestle, wrapping powders in brown paper, funneling oils into jars, and filling the room with a scent that was half-magic, half-herbs, and far more elegant than his everyday magic— elegant for any magic, in truth. Aeron, in the meantime, struggled to cinch the awkward-fitting breeches Tammas had insisted he don.
    "You're sure you won't wear a shirt?" Tammas asked as they set out on the path to Kamala's.
    Aeron shot him a dirty look.
    Tammas sighed and threw a blanket-thing over Aeron's arm. "Just promise me that if we