4. Chapter Four: Luka

Chapter Four – Luka

S hockingly enough, it's easy for Luka to find a vendor like Theo described. He winds his way back to the market, trying to adopt the unassuming shuffle of a man not fleeing the law, but instead someone who has run into hard times. He spots a woman outside of what must be an… inn of sorts, judging by the beds visible through the upstairs shutters. She is elegantly dressed in long bright scarves that drape about her wrists and neck, exposing flashes of cream flesh. Her outfit seems common enough – though looks expensive to replicate. A man passes by Luka wearing a face covering that wraps around his neck and obscures everything up to his nose. Luka will need to purchase something like that for Theo.

The elegant woman desperately tries to flag down customers with a brilliant piece of scarlet- and emerald-colored cloth. Despite her sweet voice and wide smile, her efforts are ignored.

Luka approaches the woman and her stall with a hopeful smile. Theo's idea still rattles him – well, the whole situation rattles him, really. Asking for help from strangers and being chased by the law are two things that Luka has never done and never hoped to do – and all the more reason for Luka to consider leaving Theo behind.

I could curry favor with Cathalan. It's been years since we've seen each other, and any little bit I could contribute to our relationship would only strengthen things – especially if that little bit is turning in a man wanted dead or alive in his city.

But for some reason, the thought turns his stomach to knots. It awakens that terrible creature that has lightly rested since Luka called upon it weeks before, causing the monster to grumble in disapproval.

Luka hates it. He hates the monster. He hates not being in control of even his own thoughts. Maybe he should turn Theo in, just to be free of the prickly irritating man that disturbs his beast so easily.

You would just be trading one man for another , a voice whispers in his head. Alone, Luka had felt hopeless in his quest – his little brother is in peril even now, and without someone like Theo, Luka has nothing.

Nothing, because Luka really isn't that much, after all. A failure to his family and a failure of the Bombani Exam, what could he do by himself?

No, he needs someone like Theo for his strategies, for his connections…

Or someone like Cathalan – who brings the exact same qualities to the table – only with Cathalan, everything would be delivered with a smile.

"Warm skies," the vendor greets Luka as he draws closer.

Luka fumbles with the proper reply. "And – and rainy days." The dialect bunches around his tongue and is only saved by the long hours of practice his tutors and his – his mother – made him undergo.

You need to be the best to impress their princes .

Pain and practice were powerful teachers. The vendor smiles at Luka, and Luka relaxes when he sees no suspicion in her eyes.

"You look like you've fallen on hard times, stranger," the woman says. She has a chime-like voice, clear but gentle, and she chuckles when she speaks. She's older than Luka first thought, probably nearly a decade his senior, with warm red hair drawn into a brightly colored handkerchief. Her skin is pale and freckled, and her eyes a brown so dark they look almost black. She is selling more than just clothing – in the corner of her stall is a stack of folded newspapers. Luka rises on his toes, trying to read as discreetly as he can, but the woman's eyes are keen.

"I'm afraid you'll need to buy a paper if you wish to read it," the woman says.

"Of course." Luka goes flat footed. His cheeks warm.

"Information is being guarded jealously here, I'm afraid," the woman says, smiling apologetically. "Since those troubles in the West, Siacchi has put Hessalar on full guard, which is why there are so few tourists." She gestures to – what looks to Luka – a bustling marketplace. Luka is relieved to see the guards from before seemed to have given up on their search for him and Theo. "But you are not Balivartian, are you?" She takes in Luka's dirtied clothes and then, oddly, winks at him. "How might I help you, hatchling?"

Luka takes only half a moment to gather himself. Then he sighs, trying to imbue the noise with the confidence Theo said he should have. My beauty is a gift from their goddess , he chants to himself.

"My mother sent me from Hecchia," he says, naming a city to the north, near the Siacchi border. "I was supposed to sell her… merchant house's wares here."

Vlia's eyes brighten. Good. She is well-versed enough with Siacchian familial structures to know that only well-to-do noble families would possess their own merchant houses.

"You are blessed, stranger." She inclines her head. "Your beauty provides you a life of fortune."

Luka's cheeks, now cooled from his early blunder, immediately warm again. He wants to protest, but that isn't the best next move. No – wouldn't a blessed nobleman accept such compliments in stride because of course he was beautiful and fortunate, and it was only natural for others to acknowledge such things… right?

The merchant narrows her eyes, and Luka shifts. His worry only ceases when the woman says, "You said you were supposed to sell your house's merchant wares here?"

"Yes," Luka says, grateful to dodge the topic of his looks. "My mother was worried we would be hard hit by the turnover in Cesscounthe."

"Turnover?" the woman arches a brow. Luka hides his relief. She settles on the nugget of information like a vulture. "But… your accent – I would have thought you were here for the third prince's debut? The rains are coming soon, I'm sure of it, so it will begin before the week's end."

For a moment, Luka worries he's used the wrong term – what if he just named a kind of pastry?

And Cathalan's debut? What does that mean?

But then he realizes in his foolishness, he has forgotten that the Balivartians didn't know. The satisfaction that fills him is as sweet as any Cesse victory as he carefully keeps his face neutral.

So, really no one has heard about what happened at home .

It seems so unreal, that Luka's life ended and these people continued on living with no idea. They have no idea the things his mother has done – the plans she harbors now. She could be creating battle strategies with Octavian to turn on their Southern neighbors any day.

But why would this be? Information should have traveled faster than Theo and him. Hessalar's ignorance implies that Octavian and his mother must have detained the messengers to control the narrative.

I can use this woman's ignorance. I can use this hidden information.

But not here.

"The skirmishes with the North have hit Cesscounthe hard," Luka says, shaking his head.

"Ah, yes, the bloodthirsty barbarians." The woman nods knowingly. She looks Luka over. "But your mother's wares…?"

Luka presses his lips together. He summons the anguish he felt when his mother betrayed him – when he learned he was nothing more than a placeholder for her next child. The emotions come almost too easily despite years of practiced apathy. Tears skim his eyes and he grits his teeth. "Most were lost to bandits," he manages around the knot in his throat. "What few we managed to sell brought us a pretty penny, but I need to break it into petty cash." He pauses, blinking, looking over the vendor's wares.

"I see," the woman says. "I often frequent the Balivartian and Siacchian border, so I know how dangerous it can be."

Luka can only hope she doesn't ask details about the bandits themselves. His lies will only take him so far.

"Well, I'd love to help," the woman says. "Let me see."

Luka hides his relief as he drops Theo's money pouch into her offered hand. He removed all but ten coins before approaching her, not wanting to arouse suspicion.

The woman frowns. "Oh, shed my skin, you poor child. You were certainly taken advantage of here."

Luka resists the urge to worry his lip. "What do you mean?"

"These bear the face of King Veethar, may the Goddess rest his soul. We no longer use this currency."

Luka's mouth goes dry. "Truly?"

The woman nods. "Unless you made the sale some two months ago, you were cheated out of any honest deal." She sighs. "How tragic." Her voice is soft with pity, but her eyes remain carefully hooded.

"So, the coins are useless," Luka says, voice flat.

"You will need to exchange them, of course, but yes, as they are, they are useless but for the metal they have been printed on."

Palms sweating and internal curses running nonstop through his thoughts, Luka tries harder to preen. If his looks bring him good fortune, maybe they will help with this.

The woman looks unmoved. Perhaps Theo didn't remember correctly.

Luka wipes a tear from his eye, and his fingers graze his hood. As a last resort, he lowers it in the guise of adjusting his hair, allowing the warm sun to kiss his cheeks.

The vendor pauses, taking in the planes of his face. She looks at the empty doors of the inn behind her and the complete lack of customers around her stall – then at the bustling market farther down the street.

"I've fallen on hard times, too," she says. "You see, my husband – the owner of our… inn – refuses to relocate us to the heart of the Salts District." She nods to the center of the market. "And then gets angry at me when I'm unable to draw in customers. Perhaps… we could help each other."

She points to an elegant set of robes laid across the table, and Luka's heart flutters with triumph.

"Model my wares and invite people into the inn. For every sale you help me make, I'll give you ten percent. Help me sell almost all of these wares, and I'll buy the coins from you at half price."

Luka keeps his expression pleasant as he thinks. Is she telling the truth? It would take far longer than a matter of months for a currency to go out of circulation for all of Balivartia. But assuming the woman was telling the truth about the King being dead, they would do him no good here.

"How much do the robes cost?"

The woman names a number and Luka does the math quickly. The robes are worth more than he expected – he wonders if the reason she trusts him with such valuable fabrics is again because of his pretty face. "If you add a free night's stay at your inn, I'll take that deal."

The woman's full lips part in a smile. "Sun warm you, stranger."

She reaches into the deep pockets of her robes and withdraws an unfamiliar coin. "For the room," she says. It isn't until Luka has accepted it and turned it over that he recognizes it. His ears heat at the sight of the little carving of a woman, naked to her waist, lips fallen open in ecstasy, fingers wound through the hair of a man's head as he crouches between her legs.

His eyes dart to the shutters above. Some are closed now. He wonders if he strains his ears hard enough, if he will hear the sound of distant moans.

This is a sex hotel.

"That's the room number for you and your chosen partner," the woman says, pointing to the other side of the coin when Luka gapes at her. "Before you put on the robes, would you mind cleaning that bit of dirt – yes, there on your cheek – using that fountain? Your beauty is unmarred even with it, don't mistake me, but it would be even better without."

"Of course." Luka inclines his head. "May the dust conceal you." He heads for the fountain to clean.

That was the hard part.

Now, all he has to do is make enough sales to cover the cost for himself and Theo.

It takes two and a half hours for Luka to earn his coin. He chats with the vendor, who introduces herself as Vlia, between Luka making eyes at strangers to draw the onlookers in.

"Oooh, that's a good look," Vlia advises. "These people want haughty with a bit of a sex appeal."

Luka, having practiced that exact look in the mirror hundreds of times before in preparation for the Cesse tournament, has never felt better suited for a role. He arches a brow. Vlia claps after the sale has been completed.

"Haughty with a bit of sex appeal?" Luka repeats to the woman after the customer vanishes into the crowd, scarlet robes clutched to their chest.

"They're shopping for an outfit fit for a future consort," Vlia says, adjusting her wares. Her face still glows with triumph. "I've never made this many sales – though I'm sure the timing helps as well."

"The timing?" Luka says, starting to feel like an echo.

"The prince's debut? Well, in a way it's all of the heirs' debuts, I guess." She chuckles to herself, pausing when a woman stops by. "Oh, that shade would look lovely with your eyes," she coos.

"And lovely under the Third Blessed Prince's hands, don't you think?" the customer replies as she holds up a bejeweled piece of marigold fabric. The beads glisten in the sun like drops of water.

Luka poses accordingly with the product, the woman looking him over like a piece of meat. He casts his attention out – other Balivartians are watching him with interest. Movement in a shadowy alleyway and a flash of blond hair draws his attention, and for a moment, his cheeks warm at the thought of Theo watching him as Luka turns to show the woman the back of the robes. Would Theo like me in something like this? Luka stomps the thought away.

"This will surely catch his attention," the woman murmurs to herself before making the purchase.

Behind Luka's practiced grin, his thoughts churn. The coins outside the gate – the dead king.

Distantly, the memory of his mother pressing a book into his hands with a small smile rises. Study this culture. Learn everything in this text. A single mistake could mean our connection with the South is severed.

A chapter on inheritance – a prince may not ascend the throne until he has been wedded to an appropriate match.

But no – Vlia had said all of the heirs.

Because no heir is allowed marriage until the king is dead.

When the next customer approaches, Luka's smile grows from coy to triumphant.

I don't need Theo anymore. I've found a more suitable partner.

All I have to do is convince Cathalan to marry me.

Luka rolls the thought around in his head like a cat would a dead mouse. Already, life has left the thing and the answer has become clear – but for some reason, Luka can't pull himself away from it.

The thought of abandoning Theo – leaving him to this city that so strongly desires his head – turns Luka's stomach into a knotted mess.

Just for tonight. I'll stay with him tonight. Maybe he'll think of something. Maybe he'll find a way out of this.

The image of that strong Kiteran general fills his mind's eye. The first time they met, Theo had seemed so powerful. Like a towering monument, something that has existed for all time and would never be broken.

But now…

Now he seems almost as lost as a child. Something Luka needs to protect.

And Luka can't protect anyone.

The only thing he can do is make use of this pretty face – and people are always weak to his glowing smile. Surely Cathalan will be, too.

Coins gathered, Luka purchases two robes – one larger than the other. Vlia hands over the finely embroidered cloth with a smile and a wink. "These colors would look best on you," she advises. "I hope these look good on your… friend."

Luka clutches the sapphire and emerald fabric to his chest. The deep scarlet Vlia recommended would better suit Theo, but he holds his tongue.

"I'll see you this evening," Vlia shouts after him. Luka manages a strained smile as he rushes through the outskirts of the marketplace's crowd. He keeps an eye out for guards, but easily manages to slip away.

Would it be a betrayal if I just left him there? I don't have to turn him in.

Surely not. Luka has no loyalties to this Kiteran – to this man who kidnapped him only months before.

But the thought is as jagged and as painful for Luka to consider for the fifteenth time as it had been for the first.

So, he continues to the alleyway where he left Theo –

– and finds it empty.

Luka wishes the feeling that freezes his blood is relief. He wishes he could say he is glad – Theo must have been caught. A guard must have passed by here and found the towering blond man too suspicious to ignore.

But instead, he finds himself pacing the length of the alleyway, staring at the scuff marks in the dirt. Are these signs of a struggle? Did Theo fight?

Is that blood?

Luka inhales, the breath shuddering in his lungs like a paper in the breeze. His hands curl into fists as he tries to calm himself, to organize his frantic, fluttering thoughts into something useful.

Not blood – water.

Not a scuffle – pacing.

Not a fight –

"Lockehart?"

Luka's shoulders, which had unknowingly crept around his ears, ease at the sound. He turns, filled with naked relief.

Theo stands at the entrance of the alleyway, wrapped in rags to cover his face and hair, a piece of fruit and a filled wineskin in his hand. He squints as he looks Luka over, before a smile fills his face. "I see you've made out better than I have."

Luka splutters, "Get out of sight! What if they see you?"

Theo waves a hand. "Those fools? They wouldn't be able to find me if I ducked down and hid between their legs like a child. I'd be surprised if they were able to locate their dicks when they needed to piss." He takes a bite of the fruit as he enters the shadows, juices rolling down his chin.

Luka's vision flares red. "Are you an idiot?" he growls. His anger freezes when he hears something more fox than human emerge from his throat with the words.

Theo's eyes flicker to him. A flash of amber rolls across his irises; his own wolf responding to the threat Luka's beast declared. But the small smile remains on his face as he takes another bite of the fruit.

Luka's stomach makes a sad, pitiful noise despite himself at the sight of the food.

"Not an idiot," Theo says between chews. "I figured you'd be hungry when you got back – and you were taking a while, so I had to do something." His smile shrinks, and guilt rises in Luka when doubt darkens Theo's face – he probably thought Luka wasn't going to return.

"So, you figured I'd be hungry… and you got a single piece of fruit," Luka says dryly to cover any signs that Theo had been right to worry.

"People are stingy here when it comes to beggars." Theo pulls aside his cloak. "I did get two pieces though."

He shares the second piece with Luka, and the two eat in silence. The fruit's flesh is soft and sweet, and the juice sticky. For a moment, when Luka closes his eyes, he imagines that this whole trip has gone perfectly – would it feel acceptable for his feelings to be like this, so eager to be close to this man who should be his enemy?

There's no point in thinking about such hypotheticals.

"I've secured us a room in an inn," Luka says when he finishes eating. He steps away from Theo to spread his arms. He put on the robe after Vlia gave it to him. The cloth covers him from head to knee, but is so light, he can barely feel it as it scrapes around his legs. The translucent head covering flaps around his hair, brushing against his cheeks. It smells of incense and soap.

"And you've gotten yourself a new… disguise," Theo says, his eyes darkening as he looks Luka over, lingering on the place where the robe exposes his collar. The fabric clings to Luka, showcasing the curve of his waist.

"I've gotten us both disguises." Luka holds up the other robe.

Theo's grin is bright and victorious, baring teeth. "Lockehart," he says, almost fondly. "You've outdone yourself with this. How did you even – actually, you know what? I'm not sure I want to know."

Luka sputters while Theo tosses off his old robes, standing unashamedly naked in the deep shadows of the alley. He wraps the robes over himself awkwardly. Luka finds himself saying, as if speaking to a child, "Will you just hold still for a second!" while attempting to adjust the fabric so it fits.

The situation only worsens when Theo's grin grows saccharine, and he holds out his arms. "Alright," he says, following orders. Luka hates it. "Show me how I'm supposed to wear this silly piece of fabric."

"Silly piece of fabric that's supposed to save your life, you stupid, ridiculous," Luka begins. His words trail off as he realizes he will have to completely undress Theo to start again. When Theo makes no move to stop him as he does, Luka's cheeks flame as he avoids looking down at the man's naked body. Even filthy, he is lovely, all carved muscle, easily dwarfing Luka.

Luka tries to drape the fabric in the proper manner, a twist here, a bind here, without letting his fingers touch Theo's skin. The robes are a bit small for the Kiteran, squeezing a bit too tightly. But instead of looking as comical as they should – like a man wearing child's clothing – they only make him look powerful.

Luka keeps his eyes downcast as he adjusts the bends around Theo's waist, but he can't look away as he fixes the hood over the man's head. His fingers graze Theo's neck, dancing over Theo's fluttering pulse. Fluttering – is Theo nervous, too?

Luka pulls the hood to rest on Theo's hair and the mask up to his lips. Their eyes meet. Theo's smile has faded, his face now almost dark and serious, his lips a thin line. But his gaze…

Intensity burns there. Something bright and powerful and… inviting.

He wants me, too.

Luka's eyes fall to Theo's lips. Memories of that kiss scorch him – and his dream… Theo's hand brushing against his skin. Luka can't fathom how those calloused fingers would actually feel, rasping across the most intimate parts of him. Surely his imagination hasn't done them justice.

It's just a bit of unresolved lust, nothing more. After, we won't want each other and I can finally be free of him.

Luka rises on his toes. He loosens Theo's face covering to reveal Theo's mouth. His eyes dart from Theo's gaze to his lips. His lids flutter closed –

Theo pulls away, clearing his throat.

"So, this room you've gotten us," he says. "Where is it located?"

Rejection stings Luka hotter than a slap. He looks away, taking half a second to control the betrayed look in his eyes.

These damned emotions. This is why they are meant to be controlled.

Beneath that thought, something smaller and more childish simmers.

So, he doesn't want me?

All the more reason to leave him.

The prince will have me. I know Cathalan won't let me down.

"Not far," Luka says, proud that his voice emerges evenly. "Let me attach your mask and then I will show you."

Theo looks down at Luka's robes. Something flickers in his eyes, too quick for Luka to parse. Before Luka can speak, Theo says in a low, strained voice, "You look… very nice."

"Thank you?" Luka tries to catch Theo's eye, but the other man is pointedly studying his feet.

As Luka fixes Theo's mask, while Theo continues to avoid his gaze, Luka explains what he learned from Vlia.

"So, the princes are looking to be wed?" Theo says, chuckling.

"They need spouses to assume the throne."

Theo smiles. "That's perfect."

Luka leads them out of the alley, walking confidently toward the inn. A couple of confused – and amused – glances snare on the pair as they exit, and Luka's face again grows warm as he realizes what people must think they had been doing there, in the deep shadow.

"Perfect?" Luka repeats at a whisper.

"We need to speak to their rulers and they're hosting an open invitation ball for all those of even minor political power. You've already made me your tongueless servant, have you not? Perhaps my face will also be hideously maimed so I will need to cover it so as not to turn the stomach of the prince while you, the son of a powerful Siacchian noble house, requests an audience with the soon-to-be king."

Luka hates that Theo is spouting his own idea back at him – but better. "You're right. It would be easier if we came as a pair," Luka says, "wouldn't it? It will make my disguise more believable if I brought staff."

"So you don't think I need to wear a bag over my head when you release me into public?" Theo replies, leaning down so his words can rasp against Luka's ear. Luka shudders. "Wonderful information gathering, Lockehart. Maybe you are well-suited to this lifestyle after all." He claps Luka on the shoulder, and when his fingers depart, Luka's skin tingles.

Well-suited.

Luka shakes his head. "I am well-suited to nothing," he whispers, the words more for his ears than Theo's. "Much less a lifestyle of thievery and deception in which my emotions are left to run rampant."

Theo's lips part, but before he can protest, Luka jerks to a halt. "This is it," he says, nodding toward the inn. Vlia is packing up her wares, and her eyes sparkle as she looks Theo over before nodding to Luka in approval. Beyond her stall the outside of the building is largely vacant but for a few smoking hand-rolled tobacco. The tendrils of smog drift toward the lilac sky, intermingling with the sunset, casting the humble one-story building in mist.

Theo's eyes wander over the sand-covered structure, his face blank but for the knot between his brows. Luka braces himself for insults – his mother would be disappointed with the lack of luxury and would spare him none of her thoughts.

But Theo merely says, "For free? I'm still not sure I want to know what you did to get this, Lockehart," and Luka's heart does some terrible calisthenics.

They enter quickly. Luka introduces himself to the inn's owner, a short, bald man with a laugh that shakes his full belly, and hands over the coin with averted eyes. The man offers a smile that curls his gray mustache before handing Luka two keys. "Thank you for helping my wife today," he says. "You both enjoy the room."

Luka's cheeks burn with the implication as he leads Theo deeper into the inn. The heat spreads down his entire neck as they exit the windowless hallway into a narrow room with a single, wide cot taking up the majority of the space.

"Of course there would only be one bed," Luka says, each word weighed with more horror than the last.

"It's big enough for two. Three even," Theo points out as he sits, completely nonplussed. He tests the mattress with a few bounces, and the bed groans like it's been grievously injured. "Much more comfortable than the forest floor."

It is all Luka can do not to collapse next to the man and rest his head in his hands. The weight of the day grows too much for him as he crumples, terror knotting in his throat.

"I have less than a year," Luka says. "If we take any longer… my mother will kill Cassian. I don't have time to mess around with getting rooms in inns and doing all of this nonsense." He gestures to his clothing. "I need to get someone who can… can actually help me."

As soon as the words leave him, regret squeezes his heart. Through his fingers and watery eyes, Luka peers at Theo – who has gone still on the other side of the bed, his head tilted down.

Luka wishes he could stop speaking, but exhaustion and desperation have loosened all of his worries: "And I don't understand why this is something we must do together . Surely we could separate. Surely we could find allies on our lonesome that are better suited for our own causes – you to regain your lost reputation and me to save Cassian. Those two things are not wedded to each other, and yet here we are! Together!"

Luka, realizing his voice has reached a fever pitch that likely pierces through the sandstone walls, snatches the words in, reeling them to a whisper. "You were my warden. You, arguably, ruined my life. Had you not kidnapped me that day, I would have never –"

"Your mother likely would have killed you and Cassian both." Theo's words are low but not unkind. "Even if I had known this would be the outcome, I would still do it all the same – the kidnapping, the failures – if it meant saving your life."

Luka tears his head from his hands, rearing up. He knows tears glint in his eyes and he hates it, hates the way Theo seems to shrink at the sight. "But why? Why would you care so much? Why would you be willing to sacrifice everything just to make sure I live? Surely you know I'm – I'm –"

His mother's words howl in his head, louder than the beast, louder than anything Luka has ever heard. Useless. Useless. Useless. The word echoes like a pulse.

Fur ripples down Luka's arms and something cuts the inside of his lip.

"You're what, Luka?" Theo says, voice even softer than before.

"I'm nothing. I'm no one. I'm useless, and I always have been –"

Theo's hands suddenly wrap around Luka's shaking fingers, anchoring them, bringing them to shore. Luka opens eyes he hadn't realized had been closed to find Theo's calm brown gaze waiting for him, open and peaceful and as full of possibilities as the Cesse board.

Luka's horror mounts when he sees the scarlet fur sprouting from his hands. He tries to pull away – to run – no one can see me like this – but Theo has him snared.

Despite the power of his grip, Theo gently strokes the fur like one would an animal. He says, softly, "You are not useless, Luka."

He strokes again, a low hum rising from the center of his chest. The noise is oddly comforting, like a buzz to counteract the fear darting through Luka's mind.

"You are paramount," Theo says. "You are incredibly important. You are the reason we're here, after all. Had you not been there –"

"You would have stolen fruit and gotten by! You don't need me."

Theo's hand tightens, but not painfully. "I do," he says, words so soft they caress. "I do need you."

They sit like that for a while, Theo stroking down the fur on Luka's arm until Luka's pulse has slowed and Theo's fingers meet skin. Still, as Luka hopes for it quietly, fervently, Theo continues to move. The Kiteran's touch is light and reverent, his fingers leaving burning sparks in their wake.

Luka's gaze drifts up Theo's curved shoulders, the planes of the man's throat, dapples of sunset turning the expanse into a wonder. His eyes finally meet Theo's, and Luka's mouth dries when he sees the intensity burning there.

It takes courage for Luka to force his question free. "But why?" he whispers around now-human teeth. "Why me?"

At this, Theo only squeezes tighter – and looks away. "You're – you're my – you're a marvel, that's all. Like none I've ever seen before."

And before Luka can ask more, Theo abruptly releases him. "I'll be right back," he says, and is gone before Luka can speak.

Alone, Luka folds into the bed, falling again into his own thoughts and worries. He looks down at the hand Theo cradled and wishes he understood why a backwards, two-month relationship has him so lost and so confused.

And he wonders if, perhaps, Theo is hiding something.