15. Owen

Preparing for a ball was a new and exciting affair, and Owen welcomed it eagerly the next day. While Gilda and Brom got dressed, Owen went with Colt to the inn's bathroom, where they found a tub and a sink, and also a covered hole beneath a bench that served as the public chamber pot.

Owen watched as Colt swirled a bowl of sandalwood powder with a wet brush until it foamed into cream. Colt dabbed it on his face, covering the beard that had grown there over the past few months.

"Aren't you afraid you'll cut yourself?" Owen asked.

"No." Colt caught Owen's gaze in the mirror and asked, "You've never shaved yourself before?"

"No. I really haven't had to until recently."

"Right, then, you take the razor and go down like this." Colt took the sharp straight blade and carefully ran it over his skin in a downward motion. The hair came off with a scraping sound, and Owen grimaced.

"That sounds painful."

"Only if you cut yourself."

Colt had a good bit of hair, and it took two times of applying the cream to his face before it was all shaved. When he turned to Owen and put his hands out, Colt curled an eyebrow and said, "Well? Look alright?"

Owen bit his bottom lip at how handsome Colt looked, then smiled. He ran his hand down Colt's smooth cheek. "I like it, but I do have to say, I really kind of miss your beard."

"Ahh, Owen." Colt grinned roguishly and turned to clean the razor. "My sweet, do you like such rugged men?" He laughed, then felt his own face and nodded. "It feels better."

"You're handsome either way. Now, my turn? I think you should do it for me."

"Right." Colt slid the basin of water over before he patted the counter. "Hop up."

Owen did as Colt said and pushed himself up onto the counter until he was sitting and facing Colt. It was low enough that they were now eye level.

Colt prepared more cream before wedging himself between Owen's legs and brushed it on his face until it covered his prickly hairs. He leaned sideways to rinse the razor off before moving it toward Owen's face. Then Colt hesitated, moving his hand from Owen's jaw to his cheek and back again, as if he didn't know where to start.

Owen shrugged. "What's wrong?"

"I'm afraid I'm gonna hurt you," Colt admitted gruffly.

"You didn't cut yourself once. I trust you."

Biting his lower lip, Colt began the downward descent on Owen's cheek, but he moved much more slowly than he had with himself, and after a few minutes, Owen let out a sigh at the snail's pace and straightened his stiff back.

"Don't fidget while I do this. It's making me nervous." Colt's forehead wrinkled as he continued, and Owen closed his eyes and sat still.

I can't believe how incredibly—

The sharp sting hit him immediately as the blade nicked his jaw. Owen sucked air through his teeth as his hand flew to the point of pain.

"Fuck!" Colt grabbed a cloth and pressed it against Owen's jaw, his brows furrowed with guilt.

"Colt, it's alright." Owen removed the cloth to feel the area, but Colt pressed it back.

"Just leave it there. It's gonna bleed a good bit." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Owen."

"It's fine, Colt, really." Owen jumped down from the counter and looked in the mirror. He removed the cloth enough to see the nick still bleeding. After washing it a few times, it finally stopped.

"There, good as new. You didn't hurt me."

Colt passed Owen the razor and Owen nodded. He continued on his own face, doing exactly what Colt had done. It wasn't perfect, but he was satisfied.

As he washed up and set the towel on the counter, Colt grabbed his waist from behind and nuzzled his face into Owen's neck, biting him gently, until Owen laughed and elbowed him lightly.

When Owen opened the door, he was surprised to find two gentlemen standing outside, waiting. Colt cleared his throat as he carried his shaving tools in his arm, nodding at them as they left the bathroom.

Back in their room, Owen and Colt began to dress in their formal attire. As Owen pulled a rich burgundy jacket over his black vest, he glanced over at Colt, who was dressed in a similar vest, except his jacket was black and embroidered with gold.

Owen"s heart skipped a beat seeing him look so dressed up. Colt didn't look like himself at all, but this was a new angle for Owen to admire, and he couldn't take his eyes off the man as he pulled on his boots.

When Gilda walked into the room wearing the dress, they all looked over at her in awe. Owen blinked as he took in the lacy material that held a pattern of roses that draped over the sleeves, bodice, and skirt. It wasn't ravishing by any means, but it was delicate, a perfect attire for someone like Gilda. Her dark-brown hair was pinned half up in curls, while the rest of her tendrils flowed along one of her shoulders. She'd used a light dusting of pink powder on her cheeks and her eyes and lashes were outlined in black.

Sighing, she put her hands on her hips. "Well, I must clean up well, or I look like a fool."

"You clean up well," Brom said with a smile.

"You look amazing, Gilda!" Owen came up to her and picked up some of the lace, running it through his fingers. "I love the roses."

"Yes, well, let's just hope no one sees this dress and recognizes it." She glared at Colt and Brom. "Whatever poor damsel you stole it from."

Colt smirked and adjusted his vest. "It looks nice. We all look nice."

"Yes, and while we're looking nice, we should go over our plans before we leave," Gilda said. "Remember, there are bounties on our heads. Rem seems to have things taken care of, but we need a backup plan in case this whole plan goes awry. Someone is supposed to take our bags to the manor, but we should all carry at least a knife along. In your boots or somewhere no one can see it." She moved around to Brom and straightened his jacket.

"And if something does go south?" Brom asked, gazing down at her. "Then what?"

"We'll regroup together, but we need to get the layout of the manor first." Gilda gathered their masks in her hands. "Perhaps we can find a room and plan to meet there if the plan turns sour."

"Alright." Colt clapped his hands and glanced at Owen. "Sound good, scout?"

Owen smiled. "Yes, we'll explore the mansion when we get to the party."

As night fell, they made their way to Coopersburgh. It was a long walk to Quinnby Kingsland's manor on the hill above town, and despite the cold, Owen's body had warmed on the way there. With masks in their hands, they made their way up the path to Quinnby's mansion alongside other partygoers.

"Mind your masks," Gilda told them. "I have a special glue on the inside, so I don't recommend taking them off until after the party. And don't handle them too much. They're liable to tear apart."

"I'm just glad we get to do something fun," Brom said, pushing his red-and-gold mask to his face. With his freshly cut hair slicked back, a scar that started at his earlobe and ran along his jaw was more visible against his pale face. "Kind of makes you feel like you're living normally, doesn't it?"

"So, you've been to many balls, have you, Brom?" Gilda retorted. When he made a sour face, she turned around and smiled.

Colt loosened his shoulders and pulled out one of the invitations. "Here, Brom, take an invite. I'll take the other. Guess you two are a pair."

"And you and Owen are one, too," Gilda pointed out.

"It'll be our first outing as… sweethearts, I guess." Colt wrapped an arm around Owen's waist and smiled crookedly.

The corners of Owen's lips pulled up, and he could feel the burn in his cheeks. Colt seemed to be more daring than usual around Gilda and Brom lately. But of course, their companions knew about them by now. "As sweethearts?" He'd never heard the phrase in terms of courting before. "Back up in Milarc, we called it being one's beau."

"Alright, beau, I'll be your sweetheart, then." Colt winked at him, and Owen's heart melted.

When they got to the gate, a smallish-looking man collected invitations and let people through. Two regional guards stood on either side, their faces blank as they stood watch. They wore light-blue doublets with the crest of a rooting and flourishing golden tree embedded on their chests—the emblem of Calwick.

The man at the gate eyed them but nodded and let them each through. Owen puffed out a breath of air once he passed, thankful they seemed to look the part enough to enter.

The smooth marble path took them up to the manor. Two fountains sat on either side of the yard, spraying water from statues of women holding vases, while groups of people drank wine around them. The grass was low and the hedges trimmed perfectly. A sign adorned the brick of the building with elegant script that read "Adelon Estates."

Owen pressed on his gold-and-black mask, which covered only his eyes and the bridge of his nose, and hoped it wouldn't fall off. Two black feathers perched off the left side.

When two stewards opened the grand double doors of the mansion, a wave of warm air and music swept over him. The sound of violins and cellos filled his ears. In the midst of it, a harpist sat astride an enormous gilded harp, strumming with long, delicate fingers.

The ballroom was grand, with a white, shiny marble floor. In the middle of the room, women danced in ruffled dresses of gold and white with men in black and burgundy suits. The liveliness of it all enraptured Owen, and he turned to Gilda with bright eyes. "When should we dance?" he asked.

Gilda scowled, then looked at him pointedly. "Let me have a few drinks first, love."

Brom cleared his throat and put out his arm, gesturing to a room filled with tables piled high with seafood, meats, cheeses, fruits, wine and champagne, and a glorious display of desserts. Owen's jaw dropped as he stood gaping at the most food he'd ever seen in his whole life. Gilda's eyes were glazed over as she peered at the array of delicacies, and Brom put out his arm, inviting Gilda to take it.

"Shall I accompany you to the buffet table?" he asked.

She scoffed. "I'm still mad at you for not telling me how you stole the clothes," she said. "Let Colt take your arm. I'm sure he won't mind if you accompany him instead."

Colt and Brom exchanged a smirk.

"Anyhow, I can make my own way to a table filled with food. Trust me, I'll be the only woman there stuffing her face while bursting at the seams." She pulled up her dress around the bust. It fit, but it looked snug on her.

Brom shrugged. "I rather like the seams myself."

Gilda looked at Brom and slowly narrowed her eyes, as if trying to discern his meaning. After a moment of silence, she turned on her heel and made her way to the buffet table.

Colt clicked his tongue as they watched her go, his face smug as he looked at Brom. "Poor bet, mate, those comments don't flatter her. She's her own woman. She could kick your ass in a fight."

"I know," Brom said. "What can I say? Seems I'm not very good with women."

They made their way first to the wine table, where they each took a crystal glass of rich red liquid.

"Gods, this might be the best wine I've ever tasted," Brom said.

Owen licked his lips after he had taken a drink. "It's surprisingly sweet."

"It'll do," Colt remarked, sniffing it. "Still prefer an ale at the local run-down pub."

"Of course you would." Brom took another glass and inhaled deeply, his eyes looking down the buffet table. "I'll take one to Gilda and see if she'll dance with me."

As Brom left, Colt took another sip before he set his glass back down on the table, and Owen gawked at him and picked it back up.

"What?" Colt asked.

"You can't just put a glass you drank from back on the table."

"Why not?"

A man walked up to collect a wine glass and gave them a faint smile, his hand hesitating over one of the glasses. Owen nodded at him before he pulled Colt away from the table. Handing him the wine glass back, ready to explain his folly, Owen spied the table filled with sweets. Splayed out on a tablecloth were chocolate-coated strawberries, puffy crepes, small decadent chocolates, and several fat cakes with blue, pink, and white icing. He found a plate, got a little of each sweet, and then loaded up on the softest honey rolls he had ever seen.

"Are you really going to eat all that?" Colt asked, coming up beside him with a plate of roast beef, buttered rolls, potatoes, and seasoned greens.

Owen groaned as he popped a chocolate-covered strawberry into his mouth. "Not all of it. I'll put some in my pockets."

"At least taste this. I'll be going back for more." Colt held his fork out.

Leaning forward, Owen took a bite of the beef. It was the most tender meat he'd ever tasted, with a robust, juicy flavor that unfortunately put Brom's meals to shame. "This is amazing. Get me some?"

After he found a table to sit at, Owen watched people dance as he ate a honey roll. He was grateful that no one seemed to notice him, which meant he didn't stick out as he normally would in such a lavish place.

"Eat up." Colt said from beside him, placing a plateful of food in front of him.

Owen's eyes widened at all the different foods piled on the plate. "Colt, I can't eat all this."

Colt smirked as he sat down. "Then give me whatever you don't eat."

Looking at his plate, Owen moved a swirly looking shell around with his fork. When he poked it, something green oozed out of it. He pulled a face and asked, "What"s this?"

"Dunno. Just thought maybe you'd like to try it." When Colt shrugged, Owen tried a bite of it, then made a bitter face and grabbed his wine, nearly chugging it.

Colt laughed. "Isn't it awful? I tried it at the table. Thought you might want to give it a go."

"Gross, Colt." Owen shivered. He opted to eat the other recognizable food on his plate. As he ate some tender roast, he marveled at the golden trim work of the high ceiling. A set of stairs sat in the middle of the ballroom, splitting into two paths and leading to the balcony that rounded the room on all sides. There were tables set up in a huge room to the side of the ballroom, hosting gambling games.

"Rather extravagant event, isn't it?" Owen asked. As the musicians ended their song, he felt Colt staring at him and looked over. "What is it?"

Colt's mouth twitched into a smile, his green-brown eyes shining through his half-molded black mask. He glanced Owen over as he chewed, "You look good in that vest."

Heat rose in Owen's face. The energy flowing from his companion was warm, running as sweet honey. "Thank you. You look good yourself."

Colt smiled sweetly at him and took his hand. "Can you imagine dressing and eating like this every day?"

"No, I can't imagine it, especially for you." Owen laughed.

"You're right. The food's good, but I couldn't live like this. I'll take a cold bed over this haughty shit any day." He took a big gulp of wine and looked over. He licked his lips and nodded at the dance floor. "Looks like Brom got Gilda out on the floor after all."

Owen followed his eyes to the middle of the floor, where Gilda danced with a scowl on her face. Smiling, he said, "That's impressive. I think that gains me a tally for Brom. I just wonder what he bribed her with."

"Poor fool. He puts his foot in his mouth every time he opens it around her."

"I'm going to try and dance with her while she's out there. Here, will you put these in your pockets?" Owen placed several small chocolates into napkins, glanced around, and handed them to Colt, who stuffed the bundles into both his pockets.

Owen waited until the song ended before he got up from the table and pressed his way through the dancers. When he tapped on Brom's shoulder, his companion smiled and parted for him to take over.

Gilda looked relieved when Owen took his place. She put a hand on his shoulder, took his hand, and began leading him.

"I don't know how to dance very well," Owen said. "Sorry if I step on your toes." He looked down to find Gilda wore her usual boots beneath her dress. "Or your boots, I suppose."

"I've never really enjoyed it myself, but I suppose it keeps up appearances while we're here."

"Where did you learn to dance?" he asked her.

"A few people here and there over the years," she replied, but when she glanced away, Owen didn't ask anymore.

The flow of energy from the dance thrilled him, the music building up his enthusiasm. He laughed when he made the wrong move, but Gilda didn't seem to mind. Her dress flowed radiantly against the tile, and her dark hair and eyes reminded Owen of his mother. Gilda was beautiful and free spirited, and she made for wonderful company. He wondered why she resisted Brom's affections.

When the song slowed into another, he ventured, "Why don't you give Brom a chance?" When she glared at him, he followed up with, "I mean, you go back and forth with one another. It's obvious he likes you."

"I've sworn off men, Owen. For my own good. There's nothing but heartache to be had for me." Her eyes softened. "I do like Brom, just not in that way. I can't." She smirked. "And what about you and Colt? How long have you both been courting each other?"

Courting. It was such an odd thing to be hearing. Owen never thought he'd come out of Milarc with someone he would refer to as his beau on his arm. "It's all very new to me. I've never… courted before, or been courted."

She smiled at him. "You both seem to be doing fine. He treats you like royalty, more than any royal fool here. He fights for you, and there's no doubt he would die for you too."

Owen let out a laugh. "I'm not sure if anyone would be willing to die for me."

And yet…

He looked for Colt, only to find him standing away from the table, holding a thin stick with strange looking food on it. Colt was unaware of Owen watching him, but Owen couldn't help but crack a smile when he caught his lover sniffing the stick of food before placing it in one of the many wine glasses a man was holding on a tray.

Owen looked away and laughed, catching Gilda's curious eye. What was it about Colt that captivated him? Was it the humorous moments as Owen just saw, or perhaps the look in his eyes when they gazed at each other, as if Colt could see all of his faults and troubles, and still want him anyway? Or his affection when they slept close, or the worry he held even for trivial things, such as cutting him while shaving?

Owen's smile softened as his dance with Gilda slowed.

"I have to take a break," she said.

"That's fine." Owen let her go and looked back up for Colt, but he was gone. Then he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around to find him there.

"I'm not good at this," Colt told him. "I've joined in more tomfoolery in pubs than I care to admit, but… would you like to dance?"

Smiling, Owen took Colt's hand and placed his other on Colt's shoulder. He felt Colt's other hand rest snuggly on his waist, and they pulled together before waltzing off, neither of them knowing what they were doing, but their eyes locked as they danced.

He peered around, feeling his cheeks going hot beneath the electric lights he wasn't used to seeing. "I hope we don't stick out too much while dancing."

"Don't worry about everyone else," Colt said. "You have a mask, remember?"

"Oh, right." Owen gave a nervous laugh.

The music was graceful, much more than their steps. If anything, the two of them looked like they belonged in a tavern than out here on the dance floor with others of higher status. But Owen only focused on Colt's eyes, smiling as the glow of the dim lights created an ethereal feel in the air.

"I saw what you did with that stick of food," Owen told him, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh?" Colt shrugged. "I didn't trust it." Owen let out a laugh, and Colt went on, "You know, after snails and those… gigantic wigs I see those men wearing over there, I don't know if I wanted what was on that stick."

They both cracked a laugh, and Owen had never seen Colt look so happy. His hand moved from Colt's shoulder to his chest, where he curled his fingers against the fabric of his shirt. Their steps slowed, and when they stopped dancing with the song's end, Owen's heart fluttered.

"Did you… want to go win us some money while you can?" Owen asked, pulling away slightly. He didn't want to leave Colt's side, but they had an opportunity here to expand their coin.

Colt blinked at Owen before saying, "No, I'm good. I don't want to risk anything here. And I want to be with you."

A growing desire for this man made Owen's whole body flush. Had he just given up the chance to gamble? To stay by his side instead?

They both leaned forward, Owen mesmerized by the pull of Colt's lips, but the sudden hush of the music halted them. People muttered and laughed together, all of them stopping their dancing as well. When Owen looked around, he caught a familiar man in black standing near one of the columns, staring at him with a face of stone.

Owen let go of Colt and looked down, suddenly feeling odd under Rem's gaze. Had he been watching them the whole time?

When the sound of a bell rang throughout the place, Owen looked up and followed everyone's eyes to the second-floor balcony, where a young, slender man smiled at them. His dark-brown hair was slicked to the side, and he wore a low-cut white shirt beneath a black tailcoat with big golden buttons. His sleeves ruffled at the cuffs, matching his shirt. His face was powdered, his eyes were lined with dark makeup, and he held a silver goblet.

"My friends, welcome!" the man said. "I hope you all are enjoying yourselves this evening. Be sure to taste the wine. I assure you it's the grandest in all of Avathon." He held the glass up, and a low rumble of approval rose from the crowd.

Owen looked around as several people picked up wine glasses from the tables. An odd feeling overcame him as he watched the man speak. He could only assume this was Quinnby Kingsland, and something was off about his energy. Not just off, in fact, his energy felt like a rot he couldn't understand, like the smell of a pungent cellar or the taste of soured milk.

"A toast, my friends," Quinnby continued. "To another prosperous year for Kingsland Gold." He drank from his goblet along with the crowd.

When Quinnby descended the stairs from the balcony, the musicians started up a song, and the crowd fell back into dancing. Owen and Colt joined Gilda and Brom at a table nearby, and when Owen looked back for Rem again, the man had gone.

"Think this Quinn guy will mingle with commoners like us?" Brom asked, as they all watched the man coming through the crowd, shaking hands with people and engaging in conversations.

"Well, he certainly knows how to throw a party," Colt said.

Owen hesitated as he watched their host mingling with others. No other ill feelings had befallen him besides Quinnby, a man he had only heard about and just laid eyes upon.

The four of them sat together, watching until he strolled their way.

"Hello, and welcome." Quinnby smiled at them. "You must be the four Rem told me about. New faces are always a pleasant surprise. I trust you've found the food and wine to your liking?"

"Very much," Gilda spoke for them all.

Quinnby's dark eyes settled on her. He took her hand and kissed it. "A most flattering dress for a beautiful lady." He glanced at Colt and Brom. "Please, make yourselves comfortable at the game tables or out on the dance floor." He winked at Owen and left.

Gilda fanned herself with her hand. "Why does that pompous idiot have to be so good looking?"

"I think any man in here can easily compare to him," Brom muttered.

"After a few more drinks, you might be on par with him," Gilda fired back.

He scowled at her before shaking his head.

When Owen looked over, he saw Rem coming their way. The man was dressed in all black, with big gold buttons fastened on the side of the jacket he wore. A gold stripe ran along the seams of his pressed trousers, and his cuff links were held together with a gold emblem of grapes.

He nodded at them and sat beside Owen. "Mr. Kingsland would like me to collect you at different times this evening, so it may be best if you split up and busy yourselves until then."

"You already have our bags?" Gilda asked.

"Yes. They are in one of the rooms. We'll meet and depart from there. I suggest you do not have any more wine. It will be a long journey through the tunnels, and they are very dark." Rem pulled out his gold pocket watch. "I will collect you in about thirty minutes."

He got up from the table and left swiftly, and Owen watched as the man conversed jovially with a couple who stopped him to talk.

"Well?" Brom started, looking at each of them. "Gilda, want to come with me to the gaming tables?"

Gilda shrugged. "Not particularly, but now is as good a time as ever to start looking for a way out of this manor if things go south."

Colt sniffed and glanced around. "Right, we'll poke around and find a rendezvous point, then."

Owen glanced at Quinnby once more before he nodded. "I'll go with Colt and see if there's a way out of here through the upstairs, if it comes to that. Maybe a lattice we can climb down. You two scope out the rooms down here?"

"Right." Brom nodded at Gilda. "Coming with me?"

She sighed, then said, "Of course. Lead the way."

After they parted, Owen and Colt made their way up the grand staircase and marveled at the dim electric lights glowing on the wall. Curious, Owen peered around the sconce at the oddly shaped container holding the light behind it. He touched it, then drew his finger back at the hot touch. He had never seen such lights up close before. Only the elite could afford them.

"In ten years or so, I bet they"ll be everywhere," Colt told him.

They made their way around the balcony, which looked out over the ballroom and was lined with several doors. An elaborate crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling above the dance floor, casting reflections on the dancers.

Owen rested his hands on the railing, watching while everyone below laughed and talked. Who were these people decked in fancy dresses and spruced up in makeup? If he had walked into the room dressed in his usual attire, they would all stare at him the way the townsfolk had yesterday. He was beneath them all. He could feel from their energy that he didn't belong.

"You having fun?" Colt asked.

Laughing softly, Owen turned around and leaned against the railing. "The food was wonderful, and I enjoyed dancing with you. But we don't belong here. We never will."

"I'm alright with that." Colt grabbed his hand, and honey swirled around him.

Heat spread through Owen's body at his touch. After dressing up and dancing, he wanted a minute alone with this man. He glanced up at Colt, meeting his eyes behind his mask as the sweetness flowed around him, and said, "Do you think… we should look in one of these rooms for our backup plan?" He smiled crookedly, letting his eyes rove up and down Colt's body.

Colt raised his eyebrow that wasn't covered by his mask. "Sounds like a grand idea."

They parted from the railing and made their way hand-in-hand to a room at the end of the hall. Owen looked around before he turned the knob. Finding it unlocked, he made his way inside, Colt on his heels. The room was quiet. Moonlight streamed in from the tall window on the back wall, illuminating a leather chair and three bookshelves.

As soon as the door closed, their lips locked, and their hands roved. Owen tilted his head, opening his mouth so he could feel Colt's tongue against him. As Colt pressed him against the wall, Owen felt for the knob on the door and locked it. There was no way he was letting Colt out of his grasp.

Then Owen felt a tug on his mask, and Colt chuckled as he pulled it off—along with his own—before clasping the back of Owen's head. His rough fingers tangled in Owen's hair, and Owen's eyes closed as Colt broke away and planted soft kisses along his smooth jaw. Those lips trailed over the scab where he'd gotten cut earlier, and down to his neck.

Owen flinched slightly, grinning. "That tickles," he whispered. When Colt planted a wet kiss against his sensitive skin again, Owen let out a laugh and pushed him away.

Chuckling, Colt grabbed Owen's hands and rested his forehead on Owen's shoulder. "I want to kiss you there so bad."

"Okay, try again." Owen braced for it, but he knew he wouldn't be able to hold it in, and sure enough, when Colt opened his mouth and sucked on his neck, Owen giggled and pushed against him again. "I told you. I'm very ticklish there."

"What about here?" Colt unbuttoned his collar and pressed wet kisses against Owen's collarbone, catching a bit of his necklace on his lips.

"Yes, it's good there. I want you to touch me here." Owen grabbed Colt's hand and moved it around his side, until he made Colt cup the cheek of his backside.

Colt groaned softly against him. "You're making this hard for me to pull away from."

"Then don't pull away."

"Owen—" When Colt's hand moved around to cup the bulge in Owen's trousers, Owen arched his hips.

"Please keep going," Owen whispered.

Colt's lips twitched into a smile. "I'm not sure if I'm a good enough man to have taken your innocence."

"You're the only man I want to take it."

The air stilled between them, and Colt pulled back to look at him. "You mean that?"

"Yes." Owen grit his teeth, barely able to hold it together with this man. "Now keep going."

Colt responded by pressing his hand against him again, and when Owen moaned, Colt smothered his cry of pleasure with his mouth.

His heart fluttered as that strong hand stroked him through the fabric of his sleek trousers. There was so much sensation in that touch that he grabbed the back of Colt's head and pressed him to his lips again, while his other hand snaked down to Colt's hip, squeezing him.

This man had come into his life so quickly and captivated him, and now here they were, in some room in a manor pleasuring each other instead of concentrating on their backup plan. What poor focus Owen had, but at the moment, the only thing he wanted was Colt's mouth and hands on him, his body pressed against his.

He framed Colt's face, pulling apart briefly to look at him, and when Colt smiled at him with those brownish-green eyes, Owen knew…

This is who I want to spend the rest of my life with.

Eager to reciprocate what Colt had done to him in their tent, Owen undid Colt's trousers, and his hand slid in, grabbing Colt gently, and Colt let out a breath as Owen stroked him. He loved the feel of his lover against the sensitive flesh of his palm. It was just right. He was just right.

"I love the way you feel," Owen said softly, near his ear, but he could feel his cheeks burning from saying such a thing.

Colt's brow darkened, and his lips turned up in one corner. He groaned, his hand grasping inside Owen's jacket to tangle in his shirt while Colt's hips moved along with Owen's hand. Hearing this man come undone under his touch sparked a fire in Owen that sent his whole body aflame. When Colt pulled him against his chest, Owen fell into the embrace, into his kiss and touch, letting Colt undo his trousers and bestow him the same treatment.

Their lips were locked, their hands touching, feeling, wanting,and it was everything Owen had imagined, and more. When Colt stroked them together in his warm hand, Owen's knees weakened. He hooked his arm around his lover's neck and puffed out a breath against Colt's shirt collar.

It felt amazing, full of an energy Owen couldn't begin to understand. In his passion, he tore at Colt's collar to get to his neck and suck the flushed skin there, relieved to find Colt wasn't nearly as ticklish as himself.

As Owen's hips moved against Colt's hand, he sucked in air through his teeth. Then he felt his peak rising, and his eyes closed as he bucked his hips and spilled against him. He grabbed hold of Colt's arm, twisting his fingers against the fabric of his coat, and indulged in the ecstasy that rocked his whole body, eager to feel more of him as he released himself.

Then Colt let out a series of moans, and Owen felt his lover spill against his hand. Owen's heart rushed with a thrilling beat as he pulled Colt against him, amazed at his ability to unravel this man from his seams.

Breathing heavily, Colt leaned his hand against the wall, and Owen slumped forward against Colt's solid chest.

Owen bit his lip, and they both laughed, clinging to each other as the afterglow whirled around them.

Sighing, Colt's mouth found Owen's neck, and Owen was able to withstand his touch there long enough for a kiss.

Colt cleared his throat and stepped away slightly to tug a napkin free from his pocket to wipe Owen's hand, then his own, before tucking himself back into his trousers. "Not sure all your chocolates survived."

"It was a worthy sacrifice," Owen assured, straightening his outer coat.

Colt tucked a strand of hair behind Owen's ear and looked at him seriously. "Once we get a night together someplace warmer, with a bed, we'll do this properly."

Lemon and honey ran so sweetly around Owen. He could tell this man was genuine in everything he said, but Owen didn't need to feel his energy to know so. He could see it in his eyes, in the way he gazed so earnestly.

"Is there a proper way?" Owen asked, giving a crooked smile.

"No." Colt chuckled. "But next time, I'd like to see your face better."

Enamored, Owen hugged Colt tightly, and his lover held him back. He felt so close to this man, as if their hearts were connected now in some way he'd never felt with anyone else before.

Then the doorknob jiggled, and before they could fully pull apart, the door unlocked and opened, and Rem stepped inside.

Owen froze, his heart dropping, and Colt stepped back.

Rem raised an eyebrow. "Are you both lost? Or perhaps… indulging in a bit of sin before you meet with Mr. Kingsland?"

There was no denying what they had both been doing, as was evident from their disheveled clothes and hair.

"How'd you know we were in here?" Colt asked. "You been watching us? Is that what you like to do?"

Rem smiled slyly, his brow darkening. "Mr. Kingsland would like to see you now."

Owen's whole face burned from being caught by this man. He straightened his shirt and vest and stepped forward. "Just show us where to go."

"Right this way." Rem opened the door for them both, and they walked out before the man took the lead to bring them downstairs. They made their way around the ballroom and down a hall. When Rem came to a door at the end, Owen suddenly felt something strange come over him.

It was the same sense that gripped him when they'd met Quinnby. The man was rotten, but he wasn't sure if it was because he was a very wealthy and esteemed man in a haughty town, or if it was because of something darker.

Either way, he hesitated when Rem opened the door.

"I'm not sure," Owen started, "if we should go in without Gilda or Brom." When he glanced back at Colt with wide eyes, Colt caught on.

"You're right." Colt stepped back, tugging Owen with him. "We'll go find them first."

But when they turned, Owen gasped as he came face-to-face with two other men; big brutes who were much taller than them both.

"Get inside," one of them said.

Owen's heart thudded with worry, as he had no choice but to step toward the door. When Colt didn't fight back, he wondered if it was because he knew they were outnumbered. But still, Owen had his Essence. He could use it on these men to get out, but he had to see what they were up against first.

When the door swung open, Owen was met with a room full of laughter and swirling smoke. At a table, five men sat playing cards. At the head was Quinnby Kingsland himself.

Quinnby looked up, narrowing his eyes as he sat with a cigar in his mouth. "Close the door, Rem."

The room fell quiet when they entered.

Quinnby blew out a wisp of smoke and raised his brow. "This is him?"

"Yes," Rem said.

"Wonderful. I can't wait to play with him."

Owen stiffened, and beside him, Colt jerked away from the hold of the men behind him. "What's this all about?" he spat.

Quinnby's eyes thinned as he puffed off his cigar. He blew the smoke out slowly before he rose from his chair and walked around the table, arms at his sides. The man was only a few inches taller, but looked down at Owen like he was a child. This close, Owen could see the powder on his face. It made his eyes look even darker.

He shifted his gaze to Colt. "All I want you to do is play a game."

Colt raised his chin. "I don't play cards for money anymore."

A few snickers let out from the table, making Owen's gut twist.

Quinnby's brow furrowed, his white teeth showing as he smiled mockingly at him. "This game doesn't involve cards."

"What do you want?" Owen's voice quivered.

"Your Essence." Quinnby brought up a small spherical object in his hand that resembled the brass Core of a Wielder, except it was silver.

Colt came at Quinnby, shoving him back into the table where coins clanged, but the men behind Colt tackled him to the floor.

Fire flared in Owen's chest, and he put his hands up as his Essence flew out at the man before him, sending the card table flying, knocking the cards, coins, and the men sitting at it to the floor.

Owen moved his hands toward the two men who held Colt, ready to take them down, but then he felt something jab into his hip, and he gasped.

It was a pinch, a sting, enough to make Owen step back, distracted by the numbing sensation radiating along his leg and up his side. He glanced at Colt, his mind wavering as he staggered back into someone—whoever had pierced him with something sharp. He looked up, his body slowly weakening, to find Rem staring down at him with a thin needle in his hand.

"Sit him down," Quinnby hissed, glaring at Owen as the other men got to their feet and turned the table and chairs upright. "He's not going anywhere now."

Rem shoved him into a chair.

"What did you do to him?" Colt seethed, struggling against the two men holding him.

"Don't worry." Quinnby composed himself and smoothed back his hair from the scuffle. "Just a bit of a drug, to make this all easier. But you, I could always kill you right here."

"Please don't," Owen said, his voice weak. "Just take me. He's not Astran, I am."

"Oh, I know," Quinnby replied, holding his Core out to Colt to keep his struggle down. The sphere hummed as Quinnby pushed his finger against one of the lines etched into the device, and Colt cried out in pain, as if the energy from it had seared him.

"Don't hurt him!" Owen shouted.

"But it's more fun this way," Quinnby countered, smiling crookedly. "You both dealt your own hands as soon as you stepped foot into my home. You entered into my game. And now for the rules." He snapped his fingers in front of Owen's half-lidded eyes. "Hey, you still awake?"

When Owen tried to move, his limbs felt like jelly. He blinked several times to keep his eyes open, but a haze was falling over him.

"Don't close your eyes, Owen." Colt's voice trembled.

"Oh, it's alright, he won't die," Quinnby said. "But when he wakes up, he'd best make it worth my while."

The world seemed to close in. Voices muffled. The beat of his heart lost its rhythm and pounded wildly. Owen closed his eyes.

Then someone came through the door, their speech drowning out as his mind wavered. "…got the other two…"

"Drag them to the dungeon…"

Gilda… Brom…

Owen's mind went dark.