The Tales and Tellings of Hallows' Grove (MLM)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

                Back at the cottage, Henry stirred the cauldron as bottles and bags of herbs, bones, and colourful feathers poured themselves in. Nox meowed disapprovingly at one point and Henry had to adjust the amount of vinegar.

"All this stuff can't really be the ingredients to a potion, can it?" asked Edward sceptically.

"Of course," said Henry, "with a little bit of magic." He nudged his chin at the wooden spoon. All his magic was funnelling through there. "It just takes a bit of practice and I've had a lot of time to learn. Hand me that lemon square, will you?"

Edward picked up the desert with powdered sugar and held it up to eye-level. "Is this an ingredient, too?"

"No," said Henry, blinking. "It's my dinner."

Edward shoved it into his laughing mouth. "Very funny."

Henry turned the stove on low and downed the rest of his cold tea. "Now we just let it thicken to a paste."

"Which will take how long?"

"All night?" Henry said. "Give or take?"

"And then tomorrow . . ." Edward trailed off.

Henry nodded grimly. "Tomorrow. I'm going to the Cathern manor first, though. If I have to use my magic to break into that house and be certain that no one else will take over once I have Simon contained, then that's what I'll do."

"You'll go?"

"Yes," said Henry simply. "I have to know that there's no one else involved before I show my hand."

Edward gaped. "I'm hearing a lot of I and my, Henry! Do you expect me to stay here while you risk your neck?"

Henry tapped a finger against his forearm. "I don't think you should come, no," he confessed. "I think it's better that you stay here for your own protection."

"Henry!"

"We know he's trying to summon you," argued Henry. "Pride won't do a damn thing against a murderer, Edward—"

"It's not pride!" Edward growled, frustrated. "You think I can rest knowing you're out there alone?!"

"And what will you be able to do?" said Henry. "You can barely pick anything up, he won't be able to hear or feel you—what will you do—?"

"I love you!" He shook his head. "We don't have to do this at all, I don't have to leave, but you keep working on that bloody potion like you can't wait for me to go! You still refuse that I remain as your familiar!"

"We've talked about this," said Henry.

"Before I—" he stood with a huff. "Before we kissed, and I told you what you are to me and what I supposedly am to you! Doesn't it . . ." he groaned, helpless. "Doesn't that change anything for you?"

"Yes, it does change things," Henry said. "It means where I would've entertained the idea two weeks ago, I now adamantly refuse it."

"But why?"

"Because the moment you stop feeling what you feel, the moment you no longer want to be a familiar, the moment you realize that this"—he gestured between them—"isn't enough, you disappear forever! You're asking me to risk that!"

"You won't be," Edward assured him quickly, closing the distance between them and cupping Henry's jaw. "You won't be, I'll never want to leave your side—"

"You say that now," Henry pulled Edward's hands down by his wrists, and stepped back. "But what happens when Connor tries to ask me out again? Or Vera stops by every day for a chat? What if Travis's friend comes to town and tries to get close to me with you standing right there? Will you still want to be by my side then?"

Edward clenched his jaw. He didn't answer the question, and Henry wouldn't have wanted him to. "So sending me away forever is better?" he demanded.

"I want you safe."

"I don't want to be safe—"

"And I don't want to see you dead again!" he snapped. Edward fell silent, and Henry looked away. His eyes burned and a lump formed in his throat. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one he'd learned to seal away a hundred years ago.

"Outside the teashop," Henry said, his voice hoarse, "and in the car. Whenever they're near, you look . . ." he shook his head. "You're pale, and your eyes look blinded, and you feel like the dead. You're a walking corpse, Edward. You feel so alive that I keep forgetting you're not, and then something like that happens, and . . ."

He rubbed his face with trembling hands.

The flames crackled on and Nox watched him with a tilted head and the brew bubbled and hissed. He couldn't hear Edward breathing at all, and it felt like another stab wound to remember that he didn't need to.

"Please don't make me see it again," Henry whispered. "I told you I could live without you, but losing you like that, forever, will be the end of me. Please don't make me do it."

Edward gripped his arm and squeezed before slowly turning him around. He cupped his jaw, his thumb brushing Henry's cheek. Edward leaned in, pressing their foreheads together.

"If—" he started, and stopped, shaking his head. He pulled Henry's body in against his own. "If these are to be our last nights together, then I won't waste a single second of them."

Henry didn't need to ask what he meant. Edward closed the distance between them, kissing him. This kiss was nothing like the tentative attempt in bed the other night, but it was rough, eager, desperate.

Edward slid his hand from Henry's jaw to his hair, gripping the strands and pushing him against the counter with his hips. Edward's mouth opened wide and closed against Henry's, unwilling to pull away to breathe. Except of course he didn't need to, where Henry did. As soon as Henry turned for a gasp, Edward kissed his jaw, down the length of his neck.

Henry's eyes shut as he felt the touch of Edward's hands at the hem of his sweater, the touch of Edward's lips to his stomach, his chest. His head fell back, his breathing turned quick and shallow the further Edward's hands travelled. The rain ravaged the windows as Henry was laid back on his bedsheets, but Henry's gasps and moans with every whispered praise, every thrust, every love confession turned the air in the cottage stifling hot and fuelling the fire in Henry's stomach.

He tugged at Edward's curls and pulled him in for one breathless kiss after another, revelling in the strength and heat of his body. When they could only cling to each other tight, their mouths hung open, Edward screaming obscenities and Henry needing to cling to him and feel him close, Henry did not think of Halloween night or the murderer and his sister or the time they were losing.

He could only think of how perfectly Edward fit against him, and how, for the first time, he wanted nothing more than to stay awake.