He blinked, eyes flickering to Quinn. Even her voice was different, softer, freed. No longer enclosed in a haughty, prude-like accent and enunciated like a stuck-up little shit. Quinn was so different they hadn't even thought that she might be Euodia. But looking at her now, maybe they all knew, had seen the truth. But they had denied those facts, confident that Euodia was dead.
Her smile was just so gentle, so loving, so different.
"You're not going to just eat those oranges, are you?"
"What?" His voice was cracking, snapped into two. His mind was jumping straight to her heart, to her body splayed on the table, his hands around the flesh. He'd been gloriously happy then, but now his chest seemed to twist, a dagger deep in his throat. If the others knew what they knew, they'd have her dead now with her heart in their hands. And yet, Icarus did not want to tell them the truth.
Quinn gave him an odd look and offered a wrist. "Blood?"
"Just leave me alone," he hissed, turned to the wall. He knew she was here for that, that the soldiers had allowed her to enter because he needed it fresh. He needed to heal. But he wanted to be difficult, wanted to push. Something inside him wriggled, buzzed like ants under his skin, a flash of green, of strange growing fervour.
"You're mad," she observed.
"Fucking pissed," Icarus answered, latching on to her assumptions. "Our entire pack's trying not to kill you for dragging Elysian down."
"I know," Quinn nodded. "It feels like Elysian has cold feet. He's been avoiding me." She pressed a hand to her chest, rubbing, another to the bite mark. "It kind of burns a bit, the longer he's gone."
A new bond was like a fresh wound. Icarus knew that feeling, knew how it had felt when he'd tasted Solar's history with Euodia in his blood. Solar had been left in the snow right after his mating. It had broken him forever, turning him into a lover that feared the bite.
For fey, the mating bite was different. There was no exchange of blood, but a brand from one lover to the other, a brand that would also mark their hearts. A brand that would sear their flesh and tie their magic to their lovers.
Usually, fey did not allow teeth to their necks, and would not allow any other close. For their magic would kill all that approached, block potential lovers from grazing their napes with an angry sharp burn. But Solar's love had allowed Euodia to sink her teeth into his flesh. And when she'd tossed him aside, had refused him the chance to dig his fangs into her skin, it didn't just burn, it hurt, it boiled. The hours after had been excruciating agony, of a gaping crevice for a heart, of sadness so profound it had him sobbing, retching, destroyed.
For Elysian, who had seven mates, he would be fine straying away from Quinn. But for Quinn? It must be hell.
"Don't lie," Icarus snapped. "Your bond's new. You must be in pain."
Quinn tasted her lips, and blinked far too many times. Another quirk Euodia would never do. And his eyes were drawn to her lips, the curved plush of her mouth. The way her tongue curled over his name, sweetly purred out like a song. "Icarus, I'm fine."
"Fucking liar," Icarus grunted, arms crossed, nostrils flaring, heart pounding. He was so fucking pathetic.
"Alright," she smiled, her eyes were too fucking warm, blossoms of gratitude, springtime and sunshine. He supposed he was making a fool of himself. He'd sacrificed his life for her, and actions spoke louder than words. "Come on, do you really want it in a blood bag?"
Icarus went quiet, a shrug on his shoulders. And she turned without a word, turned to search for a needle, a syringe pulled from a box. Her arm laid out. And his eyes were widening then to the scars, the pricks, the awful bruising holes. The purples, the reds and the yellows. How much had they drawn? His eyes were frozen upon the horror that was the mangled mess of her arm. He hadn't noticed it, hadn't seen it, but now… His heart rate spiked.
"Don't," he snapped, a hand to her wrist. "What the fuck is this? Is everyone so fucking shit at finding a goddamn vein?" He pulled her close and raised her flesh to his lips. Her skin was warm, soft, and velvety. He dragged his tongue over the old wounds, licking at the injuries, working on the bruises, annoyed but determined. Her shoulders jerked, sensitive, ticklish. She was not like Euodia, Euodia felt nothing.
"Stop," she squirmed.
"Stop fucking moving, dumb bitch," he hissed at her, tongue on the inner curve of her arm. He tasted sweetness then, the flavour of her drenching him in a rush of too-good pleasure. He resisted the urge to sigh, the urge to lose all of his senses, for his mind to melt into the depths of her eyes. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. "I'm just making this easier. I'm just fucking healing you."
"You don't have to—"
"Shut up."
"Thank you," she accepted. Discomfort was suddenly growing in her eyes; her fingers digging into her chest. Elysian. If he was going to mate her, at the very least, he should have stayed, should have soothed their new weak mate. Icarus growled.
"Come here."
"What?"
"Come here."
"W-Where?"
"Sit on the fucking bed. The bond will feel better since I'm his mate too." He jerked his head towards the space between his thighs. "It won't hurt if I've got my arms around you."
She froze and stared at him with her mouth open in shock, twitching just a little. The surprise was cute. The smile after that was painfully gorgeous, like starlight, like gentle rain. "You want me to sit between your thighs?"
"Don't be a fucking pervert," he snapped at her, but his cheeks burned. And he hated that there was an aching rush of desire growing in his lower belly. "I just don't want to have an arm out around your shoulder. It's easier if my chest is pressed to your back, heart to heart. And my back? It's fucking flayed like a goddamn roast. If you touch me there, I'll kill you." She remained watching him, staring, unable to do a thing. "Stop being so goddamn stubborn," He snatched her up then. She was small petite, so damn light.
"Icarus," she whimpered, stiffening against him as he wrapped his arm around her, his body pressed to the small of her back. He felt her then, the shiver of her spine, the sudden relief that collapsed through her muscles as if the tension had left her, the pain. Then the softest little moan, the warmth radiating from her body. "Oh." There was a little tremble up her spine, and suddenly he was desperate, desperate and horny, a full body rush of arousal that grew within him and had his cock swelling. His chest felt light, the hug felt good. Too deliriously good.
"Shut up," he hissed, hips pulled back so his rising dick would not touch her, slick dribbling from his hole. A roaring shudder of ecstasy. But he allowed his arms to linger around her. "Or I'll bite you."
"Go ahead."
Her giggle was soft, and it had his heart pounding so hard he swore she must feel it between the blades of her shoulder. His mouth went suddenly dry, a different sort of hunger burning in his throat. He nosed at her neck, tongue on Elysian's mark. The sweetness of her was like warm treacle, like hot chocolate, like ambrosia. It had his head growing hazy. His need was strange. It was a mess. He should push her, should fight himself, should make some snappy remarks and pretend he didn't need her blood.
But today he was fighting a goddamn losing battle.