“Oh, she got over that ages ago.” Jonah grinned sleepily at the ceiling. “Doesn’t hold a grudge, Jenny. Unlike her husband.” He waved his hand airily at Ben’s forehead, which had an impressive bruise developing from that bang against the floor. “Shame she’s going away. Where’s Constantinople?”
“Turkey, isn’t it? Why?”
“That’s where they’re going. Paris and then down through…places, I forget, to Constantinople and along whatever the Silk Road is.”
Ben had no idea and just hoped it was far away. He rolled over on one side, watching Jonah’s face. “Do you want to travel?”
“Me?” Jonah looked startled. “God, no.”
“You sounded…”
“No.” Jonah rolled over as well, facing him. “I’ve…I’ve had adventures. I’ve done rooftop escapes and lawbreaking and things, and it’s horribly uncomfortable, and I’d rather be here. I like it here. I just want to walk the wind, watch you play rugby. Make kites for Agnes and do things, when I can—Florrie Tapley’s roof is in a state, you know, I want to have a look at that—and come to bed with you at the end of the day. I’ve stopped running.”
“You fell?”
“I landed.” Jonah’s smile was springtime, and Ben reached for his hand and held it. “Come walking tomorrow?”
“There’s a game in the morning.”
“I forgot. I’ll come and watch—”
“And we’ll go to the cliffs in the afternoon?”
“And come back here at night.” Jonah rolled onto Ben’s chest, head heavy, breath warm. “Back here every night there is. God, I’m lucky.” He yawned hugely. “God, I’m tired.”
“So am I.” The candle was burning. Ben contemplated raising himself enough to blow it out, and realised that he didn’t have to. “Can you snuff the candle?”
The flame winked out. Jonah gave a little sigh in the darkness, and Ben knew he would be asleep in seconds. He put an arm round Jonah, holding him safe, in no hurry to sleep himself, just relishing the pleasure of his Jay free and safe and warm in his arms. He could lie awake all night, feeling that.
It was Ben’s last coherent thought as he fell asleep, and dreamed they were above the cliffs, walking the wind together.
About the Author
KJ Charles is a writer and editor living in London with her husband, two children and a deceptively innocent-looking cat. Tweet @kj_charles, find her on Facebook, or visit www.kjcharleswriter.com for free reads, info, and her blog about life on both sides of the publishing fence.
Look for these titles by KJ Charles
Now Available:
A Charm of Magpies
The Magpie Lord
A Case of Possession
A Case of Spirits
Flight of Magpies
Non-Stop Till Tokyo
Think of England
A lord in danger. A magician in turmoil. A snowball in hell.
The Magpie Lord
? 2013 KJ Charles
A Charm of Magpies, Book 1
Exiled to China for twenty years, Lucien Vaudrey never planned to return to England. But with the mysterious deaths of his father and brother, it seems the new Lord Crane has inherited an earldom. He’s also inherited his family’s enemies. He needs magical assistance, fast. He doesn’t expect it to turn up angry.
Magician Stephen Day has good reason to hate Crane’s family. Unfortunately, it’s his job to deal with supernatural threats. Besides, the earl is unlike any aristocrat he’s ever met, with the tattoos, the attitude…and the way Crane seems determined to get him into bed. That’s definitely unusual.
Soon Stephen is falling hard for the worst possible man, at the worst possible time. But Crane’s dangerous appeal isn’t the only thing rendering Stephen powerless. Evil pervades the house, a web of plots is closing round Crane, and if Stephen can’t find a way through it—they’re both going to die.
Warning: Contains hot m/m sex between a deeply inappropriate earl and a very confused magician, dark plots in a magical version of Victorian England, family values (not the good kind), and a lot of swearing.
Enjoy the following excerpt for The Magpie Lord:
The grey awful misery tangled round his heart and throat, choking him, sickening him with the vileness of his own nature. The shame and self-loathing too deep for repentance, too deep for words. Too deep for anything but the knife and the red flow and the longed-for emptiness of the end…
The voice seemed to come from a long distance away. “My lord? My lord! Oh, Jesus. My lord! You stupid sod!”
A slap, hard, round his face. He registered it through the haze of grey misery, then felt strong hands dragging him onto his feet and out of the room. His wrist hurt. He needed to finish the job.
He lunged clumsily back towards the knife, only to find his arm twisted up behind his back and a hard tug pulling him off balance.
“Out. This way.” He was marched forward, pushed, dragged, the litany of doom pounding in his mind. All he could think of was ending it, making the unbearable guilt and shame stop, removing the foul stain of his soul from the world…