Not Your Destiny: Chapter 40
Marked
Book 1: Not Your Destiny
Chapter 40
“So, were you thinking…?” Ángel’s voice trails off as Tony closes the door, presses him back against it and kisses him. He tilts his head to let Tony slide his mouth along his jaw, back to the spot behind his ear. It tickles when Tony exhales across his skin, and Ángel clutches at his shoulders, tries to keep from laughing and fails.
Tony presses one more kiss and withdraws, offers a hand to Ángel. “I was thinking that we should probably talk before you leave Saturday morning,” he says. “And I didn’t really want to do that in front of everyone else.”
Ángel tangles his fingers with Tony’s, follows as he leads the way through his bedroom to the window, and throws open the sash. Ángel stops with his hands on the sill, watching Tony crawl out. “Are they going to hear us, if we talk up here?”
“Thanks to Luca, they aren’t going to be trying to listen,” Tony says dryly. “Which works in our favor. We don’t have to hear everything. You have to be paying attention if you want to overhear things in a different room, or outside when you’re inside. Gabi’s usually the one who tries; she likes to be informed. Or pretend she’s God and send people where she thinks they need to go. Like putting you in my path constantly.”
Looking back, it’s obvious, yeah. “There were things they said—Gabi and Luca both,” Ángel says, crawling out onto the roof. He settles in next to Tony, lying down to look up at the stars and the full moon hanging heavy overhead.
A touch slides across his arm, and Ángel rolls onto his side, clasps Tony’s hand. “This is… we’re doing this, right?” Ángel asks. “Whether you’re my—”
“I am.”
Oh.
Tony’s lying on his right side, his arm flat on the roof, wrist displayed. Moonlight shines across the wings, and Ángel touches them. “This, right?” Ángel says. “You didn’t have this ink until that night.”
“I didn’t have that particular ink until we went out.” Tony arches an eyebrow. “Never did decide if I should be offended that you don’t actually remember dancing with me.”
“I would remember if we danced,” Ángel grumbles. “I didn’t forget everything. And I danced with a lot of people, and you weren’t one of them, unless you were behind me.”
The corner of Tony’s eyes crinkle. “I was trying to get Gabi’s attention, and I bumped you while you were with her and Luca. Felt like pressing my wrist on a hot engine; I have no idea how you missed it.”
“Yeah, well, I was drunk to the point of not feeling pain. That part I have to admit.” Ángel traces along the lines of the wings, leans down to press a kiss against the soft skin of the inside of Tony’s wrist. “I’d ask why you didn’t say anything, but I get it.”
“I swore when it happened. Loudly.” Tony shrugs one shoulder. “Gabi thought I was yelling at her; Luca thought I was yelling at him and he shoved you away. You looked like a hurt puppy for about a second, then moved on to dancing with someone else.”
Ángel remembers that. He still doesn’t remember Tony, but he remembers the shout, and the way Luca let him go like a hot potato. He hadn’t fussed about it at the time, though. Looking back on it, it seems like such a tiny moment and he can’t believe he missed it. “I’m sorry,” he says. “You know it isn’t anything that can get inside your head, right?”
Tony laughs softly, expression rueful. “I was already in my head before it happened, Ángel. You walked into the shop, and I smelled you from across the floor. But I couldn’t trust that, not after all that time with Daphne. Not to mention that I wasn’t going to give in to feline instinct and greet you by rubbing my cheek on your jaw,” he says dryly. “I’d like to think I’m more human than cat. Most of the time.”
“You can rub your cheek on my jaw any time now,” Ángel offers. He fits one hand to the back of Tony’s head, drags him closer so that he can do just that. Tony’s stubble rasps against his skin, and the gentle rub quickly turns into a heated kiss.
“I wanted to take my time,” Tony murmurs. “I wanted to figure out who the hell you were, why I was attracted to you. Figure out what to do about the mess I was in with Daphne. And I hated the magic.”
“Yeah, I got that point. Often.” It’s Ángel’s turn for the rueful expression. “It can’t control you. It was supposed to be—it was supposed to be simple. And everything changed because of this one ritual.”
Tony stretches out, half on top of Ángel, nuzzling against his throat. He nips at the skin, whispers, “Do you regret it?”
“Yeah, no,” Ángel huffs. “I regret the hurt it caused, maybe. All the complications, the way it seems like it fucked with your head, and it definitely fucked with mine and Hayley’s. But I don’t regret meeting you.” Falling for him. Ángel’s not ready to say love yet, necessarily, but he can see them getting there. Probably soon.
“You don’t think you would’ve ended up here anyway?” Tony asks. He draws circles on Ángel’s chest, watching him. “Helga broke down, Sam sent you to my shop. Either you had a perfect set of coincidences one right after the other, or that spell affected things.”
“Cleto and Maritsa were my friends.” He can say that now, admit that when they were children it was more than just community, and that maybe he wronged them when he pulled away. “Maybe I would’ve ended up there another way. And maybe if I hadn’t been there, Ronnie Hamilton wouldn’t have tried to burn the place down.”
“Oh, you’re taking credit for that. Pretty sure he was after my family long before you came into the picture,” Tony tells him.
That’s debatable. But Ángel doesn’t think this is the right moment to start talking about their respective grandmothers and how life could have gone very differently all those years ago. Because he’s happy with how things did go, just because it led here, to this moment, and hopefully to their future.
“You know I’m not going to force you into anything just because you’re my soulmate,” Ángel says, because he needs to put that on the table and make sure Tony understands.
“You smell good to me, I’m wearing your magical ink,” Tony says.
When he shrugs, Ángel feels it where Tony leans against him and it seems like a perfect excuse to drag him down for another slow, lazy kiss. There’s a cough from somewhere down below.
“Thought you said they wouldn’t listen,” Ángel muttered.
“Probably aren’t, but they can see us,” Tony points out, smirking. “If Maritsa didn’t have other plans for the night, she’d probably get popcorn.”
“Do you want to go back inside?” Ángel starts to get to his knees so he can crawl back to the window, but Tony holds him down with gentle touch.
“Not yet,” Tony says quietly. “We’re not done talking, and I don’t want to be distracted by other options before I’ve said everything that I want to say.”
Ángel’s mouth goes dry. “Other options?”
“The bed,” Tony says. “And the potential that goes with it.”
“We’ve slept in it before without anything happening.”
“We have.” Tony glances away, his neck exposed as he stares at the roof just beyond Ángel. Ángel reaches up, rubs his thumb against the nape of Tony’s neck, then the soft spot behind his ear. There’s a low rumble under his thumb before Tony inhales roughly, lets it out very slowly.
“Nothing’s going to happen tonight, Ángel,” Tony says softly. “Nothing’s going to happen for a while. I’m in this. I don’t think your magic is screwing with my head, and I’m starting to trust my own nose. But I don’t fully trust myself yet, and I have obviously been an idiot in the past. No matter how much my entire family seems determined to shove you at me, I’m not ready to go past what we’ve already done. Are you going to be okay with that?”
“I thought Hayley was it for me,” Ángel says. When Tony pulls back, both eyebrows arched, Ángel drags him back, rolls him over so that Ángel is sprawled against his chest. Ángel taps the spot over Tony’s heart. “I thought she was it. The one that I was going to be with forever, and I was wrong. She and Tanner—they’ve got something different. She and I are still really close. We’re always going to be close, probably best friends. But she’s already developed this synchronicity with him that makes me kind of jealous because they were both mine, and now they’re just so perfect with each other.” He makes a face. “I have a point I’m making, I swear. Bear with me.”
Words are things that run away with Ángel sometimes. Blurt out when he’s least expecting them, or tangle around his tongue. It’s more obvious with Hayley, the way she’s always talking. Ángel tries to consider his words, tries to trap them long enough to make them make sense. But this needs to come out, and he has to make sure it’s said tonight. “This is different,” he says slowly. “We don’t have the same synchronicity, not yet. But when you said that yes, that was a date at the drive-in, it lifted so much stress from my shoulders. Everything snapped into focus, and I didn’t have to worry about it anymore. It feels right, and I can just explore what comes next and not worry about getting it wrong. Not worry about fucking it up. Because we’ll probably both do stupid shit, right? I’m only twenty. I’m leaving to head north, back to PHU, and you’re here and rebuilding your shop. Gabi and Cleto are going off to start school this summer, and everything’s getting complicated. So we take our time, work around our schedules, figure it out as we go. You can come visit me, and I’ll be coming home and visit you then.”
He licks his lips; Tony tracks the motion, so Ángel leans forward, barely presses his lips to Tony’s. “You’ll come visit me, right?” Ángel whispers.
Tony slides his hand down Ángel’s back, stops at the base, just above his waistband. “I’ll visit,” he promises.
“Good.” Ángel seals the promise with a kiss that turns long and lingering. Tony’s chest rumbles under his hand, fingers are warm against the skin of Ángel’s back. It’s good, and Ángel would be happy to stay here for a long time, doing just this.
“Go to bed! The rest of us are!” Luca’s voice rises from somewhere below, just before the back door slams.
Tony laughs against Ángel’s mouth. “He has a point. Tomorrow’s another day.”
“Today,” Ángel counters, because it’s long past midnight already. “Tomorrow I leave.”
“Then we’ll just have to make the most of today,” Tony points out. He nudges Ángel back to the window, offers a hand to help him climb through. “Think you can handle that?”
Ángel’s mouth is dry as Tony strips down to boxers for bed. He does the same trying not to think about all the things that won’t be happening, because what they’ve got right now is good. “Yeah,” he says, burrowing under the blankets, head pillowed against Tony’s chest. “I think we’re going to be good.”
