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“Of course, I killed her. I’ll kill anyone who hurts you.”
Professional posture fracturing, Whisper slumps back in his chair and covers his eyes. “This is so far beyond my paygrade.
Rakos isn’t sure why he’s so nervous about this. He’s never been nervous about anything except for Bell. This beautiful, fragile man he’s obsessed with. Who accepted his true identity with shocking ease. Who forgave him for Orthin. Who lights up in awe at every new place they visit, curious and bold despite his frailty. Rakos has said this entire time that he trusts Bell. He should trust him again.
“I’ve been fucking Bellamy Sandry?” Rakos asks, dazed. “Yes, you’ve—” Vana’s eyes grow enormous. Daromir drops the key. “You’ve been what?” “Never mind.” Rakos slumps back in the chair, head spinning. “That’s none of your business.” “Yes,” Vana says faintly. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that so neither of his brothers have cause to murder me.”
Rakos coughs and pulls himself away enough to look Bell in the eyes. He has to hold Bell down by the shoulders to prevent another distracting kiss. “Your Highness?” “Yes?” Bell answers naturally. After a moment’s delay, Bell’s eyes widen, then narrow. He jabs his finger into Rakos’s chest. “Don’t you dare call me that.”
Rakos doesn’t love Bell any less for that. He can only love him more.
Love doesn’t need to cure anything for Bellamy to need it like air.
