Clav

I clutch my sore arm to my chest while I watch the psycho stalk off, the crowd parting for him, as if afraid they'll be next on his hit-list. With one hand on my sore arm, I clumsily stand, motioning to onlookers that I'm fine. My skin tingles all over, my pinky feels like it got shocked after that pinky swear, and a bead of sweat rolls down my spine. I wipe the tears from my face, sniffing back the ones that threaten to emerge.

Boys don't cry. Boys don't cry. Boys don't cry.

Instead, I summon that fury deep within my bones. Because anger is better than tears. I'm generally an even-tempered dude. Hell, I'm a fucking delight. I can keep calm and positive in most situations. Let things slide. In fact, I'm considered a sunshine in most circles. After being bullied in middle school, I learned that laughing at myself was the only way to get the assholes off my back.

But the way that dick made me feel just now… when he called me a loser and called me bastard-born…it triggered all those memories from middle school and all I saw was red. Then he brought my step-dad, Rick, into it, and I went from zero to ten in a half-second and got this strange, dangerous urge to sink a dagger into their chest. Which is weird, because I don't even own a dagger.

It almost felt like some primitive being was awakened within me in the presence of that prick. And when they brought up the demons and my dad and…and Aden…I couldn't control it anymore. My rage took over and I threw a punch, and next thing I know, I'm on my knees with blinding pain lashing through my arm making a fucking pinky promise just so I could escape.

I should go home. Warn dad. Call the police. But all I can think of is—I have to see Aden all the more now.

Not that I want to get involved in that toxic relationship, but, well, I actually do. I want to fucking ruin whatever that asshole has with a sweet boy like Aden. And I need to see if Aden is actually as sweet as he pretended to be at the library, or if he's in on this prank, too. The thought is almost too painful to consider, but I mean, I barely know the guy. He approached me in the library. Could have been stalking me this whole time for all I know.

I'm going to settle this bullshit once and for all.

In order to really lure Aden in, I decide to add another prop to my non-existence cosplay. I slip into the nearest tent and scan the costumes, looking for something unique and…me. But my god. These costumes are ridiculously expensive. Do I really want to dish out my hard-earned money just to convince some stranger I'm into them?

I scan the table at the many cosplay artifacts lined up—and one immediately catches my eye: a silver crown that looks like several small antlers had been welded together. That person claiming to be Aden's boyfriend was wearing some massive antlers that looked real. These ones don't look real, but damn, they glimmer like silver and are fancy enough to catch anyone's eye. Preferably Aden's.

I pick up the headdress and study it. The metal is heavy in my hand, but it's durable. Placing it on my head, I study myself in the mirror. The antlers are less than half as tall as the antlers the person who confronted me was wearing, and I smirk as I consider how much I would piss them off if they caught me wearing this around their boyfriend.

I mean, the crown still looks intimidating, the points reaching toward the sky like claws. The front of the crown pulls down in a V, the point reaching the bridge of my nose. It would look better if I didn't have to wear my black framed glasses, and obviously a little more muscle would do me some favors. But I don't look half-bad. I tilt it sideways, just a hair, so I look more like a prince who doesn't give a fuck.

"That crown was made for you." The merchant at the table studies me as if he's never seen anyone wearing his merchandise before. Of course you'd say that. You want my money. But I can't help but feel a sense of power, while also desperately trying to ignore the tug deep in my stomach. This crown made of silver antlers does look good one me.

Lifting the crown off my head, I look at the price. One-hundred and twenty-nine dollars.

"Fuck," I mutter. Ren Faire shit is expensive. I can't exactly go around throwing money around when I just lost my job. But I really do love the crown. I'm not buying this just to impress Aden. I'm buying it because it's sick. And also maybe because it'll piss Aden's partner off if they catch me wearing it. This might be the most irresponsible decision I could make on the same day after getting fired, but hey. YOLO.

Smirking, I pay for the crown and place it on my head.

"Behold!" The shop owner shouts, and to my utter embarrassment, all the eyes of the customers are on me. "Your new king!" The shop-owner declares dramatically. "King of the Stag Folk!"

Customers clap and laugh, and my face burns with embarrassment. I offer a smile and play along, waving at them before escaping the tent and stepping back outside before the shop-owner could make any more declarations.

The sun is just now sinking beyond the horizon, casting long shadows on the grass. The magician has left the stage now, and someone with shaggy blond hair carries a violin up to the mic.

Aden. Relief washes over me, but it's quickly replaced with apprehension as I remember what the fucking stag-wizard prick said. They know about Abaddon, and they're dating Aden. Which means Aden must be in on the prank, too. And I need answers.

Aden is wearing black leather boots and a trench coat with silver buckles. A silver hoop hangs from one ear, making him look like a rugged buccaneer. Fuck he's hot. Tucking the violin under his chin, he begins playing a quick, upbeat tune. I am not prepared for the way the fiddle music crashes over me in a series of notes merging into each other, the way a raging river crashes over stones.

Holy shit. I would have never guessed he could play the fiddle that well. People immediately stop in their tracks to admire him and soak in the music, but he doesn't notice. He's in the moment, his eyes closed, his entire body moving to the rhythm as he drags the bow across the taut strings.

And I'm left mesmerized, hypnotized by his stunning performance. His music sounds like something straight out of a fantasy film. It reminds me of twisted forests and wild waves crashing onto ancient cliffs. Of dark curses and the skulls of my enemies. And I'm not sure, because it's dark now that the sun has nearly set, but I swear I can see black wisps of smoke curling between his fingers as he plays.

He finishes, and applause erupts from the crowd, jolting me back to reality. His eyes crack open, as if he, too, is remembering where he is, and that brilliant smile breaks across his face. Taking a bow, he spins around, his coattails flaring out as he leaves the stage. It takes me a moment to be transported back to reality, but when I am, I push through the crowd in his direction.

"Dude, that was amazing."

A look of surprise flits across his features when he sees me. His gaze lingers on my antler crown for a beat too long, then his brows furrow.

"It's ," I remind him, in case he forgot. "From the library. I'm the…klutz who spilled his latte."

His brows shoot up as his eyes meet mine again. "Ah. Yes. You're, um, here early."

"It's…seven fifteen."

"Right, right." He studies my crown again, and his features soften. "I love the crown. It suits you."

"I just bought it. It sort of caught my eye, I guess." And I'm totally not trying to compete with your partner. "I guess I could have worn contacts instead of glasses to really create the Renaissance vibe, but—" I shove my glasses up the bridge of my nose.

"No." He shakes his head, then bites his lower lip. "The glasses are kind of adorable."

I don't know why, but butterflies are set loose in my stomach when he says that. The way his eyes roam over my body while he pinches that lower lip between his teeth, the way he's studying me almost like he knows me…I almost forget he has a toxic alpha-hole partner.

A partner who threatened me. A partner he never told me about. A partner he could be working with to prank me and my dad.

Clearing my throat, I tear my gaze from him and glance around the faire. "I just got here. Want to…show me around?"

His eyes brighten. "Of course. I think the jousting tournament is starting in fifteen minutes." He tucks his fiddle into a case and slings it over his shoulder. "Also, I'm starving. Let's stop at a food truck on the way there."

As we make our way through the crowd, I try to think up some small talk that would seem casual while also giving me a hint as to whether or not he's in on the prank.

"So…where are you from, Aden?" I say, loud enough to be heard above the crowd.

"Uh. Well. I grew up in Virginia."

"Indiana is a long way from Virginia." I clasp my hands behind my back. "Our faire isn't that well-known."

He shrugs. "I kind of like to travel around to different faires and festivals around the country. I do a lot of busking with my fiddle." He offers me a sheepish smile. "I've been doing it for years. Kind of taught me how to hold a crowd."

"And you make enough to live off of that?"

He chews his lower lip. "I live out of my car, so that kind of saves me loads on house payments."

"And your parents are cool with that? You living out of your car?"

His clover-green eyes meet mine, and suddenly there's a fierceness in them I didn't expect but apparently deserve for prying. "My parents kicked me out when I was sixteen years old for being a dude. So, no, I don't think they give a fuck where I live."

His words hit like a slap to the face, and I feel like an idiot for asking such personal questions. I know what it's like to have an overstrict, closed-minded parent. My dad is about as conservative as one can get, and I still have a curfew of ten-thirty as long as I'm living under his roof—and I'm fucking twenty-three years old. But my dad has never threatened to kick me out for being a boy. If I identified as a girl, he probably wouldn't be too thrilled, but I know he wouldn't disown me.

"I'm sorry," I say.

"It's been over a decade. It's fine. I just…don't really like to talk about it."

"I'll respect that." We walk in silence for a bit. Ancient Celtic music blasts through the area and the crowd bustles around us. Vendors call out their deals while someone dressed like a pirate juggles lit torches. We stop at a few stalls and Aden checks out some throwing knives.

"Do you know how to throw knives?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Not really. But I know someone who does."

I want to call him out, ask him if it's his partner he's talking about. With the way his partner went all out with the costume and act, I wouldn't be surprised if they also knew how to throw knives. I shudder, imagining them throwing a knife straight into my back for flirting with their partner. I wouldn't put it past them. Those bruises they gave me are turning a darker shade of gray-blue, but I hide my arm from Aden.

Aden must decide the knives aren't to his liking, because we continue on through the crowd.

"What about you?" Aden asks. "Do you get along with your parents?"

I feel like, after practically forcing him to talk about his parents, I kind of owe him. So I open up about mine.

"I get along with my mom. They had me when they were still young, before they met my dad."

Aden nods slowly. "And your dad?"

"Yeah, we get along, but he doesn't really get me. I haven't come out to him." I side-eye Aden. "I'm gay. He has no idea. But my mom knows. Mom doesn't really care."

His brows arch. "And they're not telling your dad?"

"I mean. They have a weird relationship. But my dad is pretty strict and I guess Mom wants to protect me from that." I chew the inside of my cheek. "But, I mean, he'd never kick me out. Even though he's strict, he has a playful side filled with incurable dad jokes and boyish mischief."

It's for that reason, when I saw him nearly plunge that iron rod into the cosplayer's costume, something deflated inside me. Because I have never seen Dad act violently. He's protective of his world, yes, but that prankster didn't appear to pose any sort of threat, and yet, Dad showed no mercy, nearly destroying the person merely because they didn't give him the information he wanted.

I glance at Aden. I wonder if I can get him to fess up. Telling him about my dad will either make him admit that he and his partner are up to mischief with our haunted house, or scare the shit out of him. Chances are, if Aden is just passing through, I'll never see him again. So, what harm could the truth do? "My dad thinks he's a demon hunter."

Both Aden's brows shoot up. "A what now?"

I swallow hard. Usually, I find humor in telling people this sort of shit, but now people are taking this joke too far. And Aden might be behind the pranks.

"My dad believes our house is built on some sort of…portal between the living and the dead. Hell, more specifically."

Aden studies me with a guarded expression, as if he thinks I'm pulling his leg. "And you believe him?"

"Fuck no. I mean, I pretend to. Because he'll go batshit if I don't." I stifle a smile at my own pun. Batshit. God, I am losing it. "But, no. While my dad is a die-hard catholic, I don't really buy into demons and hell and…all that mythology."

He shrugs and bites his lower lip, and holy hell, what I would give to taste those lips. "Do you buy into…any mythology?"

I tilt my head, wondering where he's going with this. "Like…what kind? Ghosts?"

"I don't know. Faeries?"

I snort. "Like Tinkerbell?"

His cheeks turn red. "No. Like in those books we read, with the fae."

A smile eases on my face at the reminder that we read the same books.

"It's fun to fantasize about it." I shrug. "But can you imagine if any of it was real?" I chuckle as we approach the food truck. "We wouldn't last one day in the fae realms."

Aden orders two massive turkey legs and two beers from the food truck, paying for all of it, then turns and offers me a turkey leg and a beer. My heart warms as I take them.

"Thank you."

He casually sinks his white teeth into the tender meat, as if he eats massive turkey legs every day.

"Holy hell this is good," he says around that bite before taking a second, larger bite, ripping the meat off the bone. I nibble at my own turkey leg, the salt and spices creating an explosion of flavors in my mouth. Okay. I get it. This is fucking delicious.

We finish off the turkey legs and beer as we make our way to the jousting, then spend the rest of the evening watching the knights put on a performance of gallantry and comedy. But Aden's mind seems far away from what's going on in front of us. He's not really cheering for any of the victors, unless I cheer first, then it'll pull him back to the present and he'll whoop and holler along with me before that faraway look returns to his eyes.

I keep waiting for a "gotcha" moment, or for his partner to come storming up and clock me across the jaw. But so far, everything seems pretty…normal. Aden gives me little snippets into his life, but it's clear he doesn't like talking about his past, so I don't press it. We stay on safe topics, like books, where I learn that he is endlessly falling for the villain (that checks out) while I'm more into the cinnamon roll type heroes (again, on brand).

It blows my mind that his parents couldn't love Aden for who he is. He's a fucking phenomenal fiddle player. He's so…real. Probably the kindest and most genuine guy I've ever met. To the point that I'm not sure I deserve him. And I know for a fact that prick from earlier doesn't deserve him.

Which means Aden could be in an abusive relationship. I sip the last of my beer while studying him out of the corner of my eye. The light from the setting sun dances off his blond locks, setting off the length of his eyelashes. It'd be too easy for a controlling asshole like Bambi to take advantage of someone as sweet at Aden. My stomach tightens, a strange urge to protect Aden at all costs coming over me.

Once the tournament is over, they offer horse rides on the massive Friesians for ten dollars. I offer to pay this time, and Aden and I both climb the stair steps onto the horse's back, Aden settling behind me. Resting his head on my back as he faces the sunset, he wraps his arms around my waist. The gentle pressure of his forearms on my ribcage makes something warm bloom in the pit of my stomach. This must be what it felt like in the Middle Ages to be a knight returning home with his damsel. Though Aden is no damsel. He's more like…a troubadour.

I don't know what it is about Aden that draws me in. He's easy to be with, I guess. He draws me in the way a golden retriever draws people to it simply by wagging its tail and looking adorable. There's something real and genuine about him, something that tells me I don't have to put up a front or act around him. I can just be my ADHD, book-porn-loving nerdy self.

"My mom made me take horseback riding lessons when I was younger," I say as we round the curve of the ring. "There was some jerk who was making fun of my horse for being the slowest, so I challenged him to a race. I was in front for most of it, but then his horse cut mine off, and my horse stopped so abruptly that I flew off its back and landed flat on my back." I snort. "I swear I blacked out for a moment, and then had to drag air into my collapsed lungs." My brows arch as I stare at the coral horizon. "It was a good slice of humble pie for me that day."

"Want to know the most embarrassing day of my life?" Aden asks, his jaw moving against my back as he talks. "I was a junior, slowly coming out as trans in public while experimenting with different things. Well, one of the things I was experimenting with was packing. First time I ever wore a packer, I wasn't sure where to place it. I put it on the best I could and went to prom. Did I mention my pants were too tight, too? Apparently, I had a semi the whole night, and I never heard the end of it."

He shakes against my back as chuckles ripple out of his mouth.

"Dude, that's not that bad," I say. "You probably looked loaded. I bet it was hot."

"Oh, no. I'm not done yet. When I went to the men's restroom, there were men in the stalls on either side of me. I went to pull my pants up, and my packer slipped and bounced into the restroom stall next to mine. I'm talking the wettest slap on the concrete floor." He laughs. "Some poor bastard had to see my dick bounce on the floor while they were taking a shit at prom." He's laughing hysterically now, and I can't help but laugh along. "I had to reach under the stall to grab it. The dude cleared his throat, and bro, I have never bolted from a restroom so fast. I stuffed the dick in my pocket and washed my hands and got the fuck out of there before he saw me."

I'm laughing so hard now, my sides hurt. "I mean, there are worse things to see in a public restroom."

"I'm really not sure about that. Seeing a prosthetic dick slap onto the floor in front of you has got to be pretty traumatizing, whether or not you're gay."

We climb off the horse and make our way back through the faire. The sun has mostly set now, and there's a fire-eating show taking place on the stage. We watch sword fights, a dragon puppet show, a Viking throat singer whose resonant tones echo the ancient songs of the north, then finish off the night with some crass comedy.

The autumn night has grown pretty chilly by the time we make our way to the gate. I'm about ninety-nine percent certain that Aden has nothing to do with the prank earlier today and is probably unaware of what his partner is doing.

On the other hand, he hasn't told me he has a partner, either.

"So, uh, you want to come by my room at the inn tonight?" Aden asks as we step out to the parking lot. "I should let you know," he says before giving me a chance to answer, "that I am polyamorous. I have a nesting partner, and several other more casual relationships. We're all tested regularly. But, if that's not your thing, I totally get it."

There it is. He does have a partner. But he's clearly not cheating since he's openly poly. Or is he? Because the way that antlered prick acted, it seemed like they were pretty exclusive.

"Does your nesting partner know you're poly?"

He frowns. "Yeah…"

"Because if your partner has long white hair and has an unhealthy obsession with the Ren Faire cosplay, then that asshole confronted me just before we ran into each other and told me to stay the fuck away from you."

Aden's green eyes widen, and he nearly trips. "Um. Okay. So, Tarsus talked to you?"

"Yes. They threatened to kill me."

"D-did you recognize them?"

"Why would I? I've never seen them in my life." Unless they were the same person who was dressed up as a bat, which would actually be highly likely. I glance at Aden. What if he was the getaway driver?

"So…why are you here, if they threatened you?" he asks carefully.

I release a shuddered sigh. "Because I wanted to piss them off. Because I'm pretty sure they're a part of some elaborate prank that's been going on at my house that's making my dad go crazy." I pause and turn to him, my heart beating rapidly in my chest. "Are you…a part of the prank, too?"

He looks me square in the eye. "No. Tarsus isn't pranking you either. They're just…" His eyes wander as he searches for the right word to sum up his psycho partner. "They've got some trust issues." He closes his mouth and swallows hard, his brows furrowed in though. "Are you sure you've never seen them?"

"Aden, I swear to god, if I've ever seen a tall, perfectly built male with perfectly chiseled features like your partner, I don't think I would have ever forgotten them."

He snorts and cards his fingers through his hair. "So that's it, then? You only wanted to see me tonight to piss Tarsus off?"

I lick my lower lip. "No. I wanted to see you before they even crossed my path. I wanted to come because I was super intrigued by you at the library, and now that I've spent some time with you, I kind of…want to get to know you more."

His lips quirk up as he turns to face me, and I notice that adorable dimple in his cheek. "Kind of?"

I stare at him, and it takes all my self-control not to pull him in for a kiss. "A lot of."

"Hm. That's what I thought." He takes a step closer, planting his hands on my waist, and the contact makes my body come alive. "I really didn't expect to fall for you."

I snort. "What, when you met me at the library six hours ago?"

His brows furrow. "Sure." He slowly leans in as if he's going to kiss me, and my heart rate spikes. The scent of sandalwood fills the air between us. I close my eyes, waiting to finally feel his lips on mine, but then he turns and resumes walking down the street.

My mouth drops open as I inhale a sharp breath. What a fucking cock-tease. I love it.

"Tarsus can be overprotective sometimes," he says as I fall into step beside him. "But they know I'm polyamorous, and they're okay with me meeting other people."

"And this Tarsus isn't going to kill me if I touch you?"

His eyes widen. "I can't promise you that."

Then he laughs and elbows me, and I honestly don't know if he's lying or teasing, but right now I don't really care. Because his laugh is fucking adorable, and his presence is calming, and his smile makes my dick hard. There's nowhere I would rather be right now than in the Bone Bed & Breakfast, boning with Aden, before bed and breakfast. I mean, I don't usually go home with a guy I just met, but Aden is just passing through, and somehow that makes this a whole lot more exciting and…safe.

Because if he's leaving this weekend, there won't be a chance for me to get my heart broken by him in the long run.