“Hot soup okay for dinner?” Casey asked after helping Simon up three flights of stairs to his apartment.

  Given the weather, that sounded fantastic. After he agreed, Casey started a recipe that involved boiling a package of dried noodles, diced vegetables, chopped bacon, eggs, and a shiny metallic packet filled with spices. Impressively swiftly, the soup was done.

  Casey filled two mugs with the soup, handed Simon one, and then said, “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink. How do you feel about wine?”

  “I have not had a drink in six months. I’ve missed it.”

  “I think we’ve both earned it, too,” Casey replied with a short laugh.

  Casey produced a bottle from a cabinet with a glass door and poured two generous servings of a dry white wine. Casey’s taste in drink was excellent. Simon drained half of his glass in several swallows.

  The salty soup was tasty, but it made him thirsty. Usually, he would have watered the wine, but what did it matter if he got drunk? He felt safe with Casey, and it would be good to relax. He finished the glass and did not even consider objecting when Casey refilled it.

  For a bit, they talked of nothing of great importance. Simon found himself telling Casey about Elynal. He missed his horse, and Casey listened intently as Simon talked about her.

  “I can ride,” Casey said, “though I suspect, nowhere near as well as it sounds like you do. Avery loves horses too, and he begged me to take lessons with him when we were kids. Also, any time we travel, he’s always finding a stable with trail rides.”

  “Trail rides?”

  “A recreational ride, usually in the country... somewhere scenic.” Casey added, “Maybe we could go for a ride together, and let you play tourist. You’re in a whole new world now, and you should get to see some of the sights!”

  He nodded, though riding a rented horse wasn’t the same as his own. Still, it would be good to explore some of the mountains around them.

  He’d owned Elynal since the day she’d been born, when Yienry had gifted the still-wet foal to him on his own birthday. Had Yienry recovered her, or had she been stolen and taken to an unknown fate? Was she safe, or injured? He didn’t know. It would do no good to speculate, and he didn’t want to upset Casey, so he only told him a few happy stories, and Casey listened with evident fascination.

  “Want the last?” Casey offered, then topped Simon’s glass off with what remained in the bottle.

  After finishing his mug of soup, Casey knelt in front of Simon. “Mind if I look at your ankle again?”

  Willingly, he stuck his foot out. Why had he ever had any objections to Casey fussing over him? The man was handsome. Vaguely, he thought he should be more worried, but he couldn't formulate a reason why. He quickly grew distracted as the warmth of Casey's touch mingled with the heat of the alcohol. His head was spinning, perhaps more than normal for a few glasses of wine. He'd lost so much weight!

  Casey unwrapped his leg with strong hands and said, “You say this is an old injury?”

  “I fell off a horse when I was eight and broke both bones in the ankle. It was Yienry’s new stud, and he was very pretty. Yienry forbid me to touch him, but I wanted to prove I could ride anything, so I snuck out to the stable early on a winter morning.” Simon realized he was babbling, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “He bucked me off in the barnyard, and my ankle has never been the same. I’ve reinjured it more times than I could count. I even spent two weeks last autumn unable to stir from camp after I twisted it running from Hunters.”

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  Casey looked up at him; then he prodded at Simon’s ankle with his fingers. Simon knew that bones had not healed quite straight, and the tendons were scarred, even though Yienry had engaged the best healers in the country to try to fix the injury.

  Had he noticed how long Casey’s eyelashes were or how brown his eyes were? The man was absolutely gorgeous, in all the right ways.

  “Well, I suppose we can give it a few days and see how you do if you’re sure you don’t need to see a doctor.” Casey seemed worried, and the concern made Simon’s heart melt the last little bit. He wasn’t used to people thinking of his comfort or being concerned for his health.

  Casey, still on one knee in front of him, was looking up at him with soft brown eyes. Simon impulsively reached a hand out to cup Casey’s jaw. He blurted out, “You’re handsome.”

  The big man jerked back in surprise. His eyes narrowed, in the way that Simon had learned meant the man was consulting his Gift. He plucked the mostly empty glass of wine from Simon's grasp. “Enough booze for you, my friend.”

  “I am not drunk. ” He considered the statement and compared it to his standards for intoxication. During the Harvest Festival, falling down was all part of the fun. “Well. Much.”

  “You weigh, what, eighty pounds? If that? Two and a half glasses are plenty. I should have realized...” Casey finished Simon’s glass himself in three quick swallows. Simon watched his Adam’s apple bob. then glanced back up at Casey’s lips. What would they feel like if they touched his own? He’d never kissed anyone in his life.

  He’d wanted to kiss Iorge, though. So very much.

  Casey said, “You’re, like, less than half my body mass. If I drank five glasses with dinner, I’d be blitzed.”

  “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re handsome,” Simon replied. He felt like he was missing an important detail in this conversation, but what was it? “And I liked the wine. I drink more than that at an average dinner. It didn’t occur to me to say no. There are lots of things I wouldn’t say no to."

  Casey snorted. “I have no idea if that’s the geas talking or the alcohol.”

  “You are an attractive man,” Simon insisted. Casey had to be enjoying the flattery, right?

  “Yes, I’m aware. I’m concerned that you’re being so direct.”

  “Oh. That must be the geas and the drink combined.” Simon grinned, even as he realized he was acting wildly out of character. He didn’t grin, and he certainly didn’t flirt like this! He said, still smiling, “Normally, I wouldn’t flatter a man, drink or no, but the geas makes me feel safe. I can trust you. And I do believe you can truly be trusted, else you'd have taken advantage already."

  “C’mon.” Casey returned to stand in front of Simon and offered him a hand up. “We’ll go downstairs and find you some crutches in the basement — we always seem to have a few around unless Avery’s rounded them up to donate to charity — and then have a chat with the book. You can sober up while I keep an eye on you.”

  When Casey pulled him to his feet, Simon ended up standing so close to him that he could feel the heat from the his broad chest. Impulsively, he threw his arms around the taller man’s neck for an embrace and pressed close, arching upward. He wasn’t tall enough to kiss Casey unless the man bent over, damnit.

  “Simon. Stop.” There was a warning in Casey’s voice.

  To his horror, he realized Casey was genuinely upset. The man’s tone was sharp, and he was stiff and unmoving.

  The full force of the geas crashed down. He’d not only displeased Casey, but he’d also ignored Casey’s clearly spoken wishes while doing so. It hurt as badly as the times he’d tried to defy the man openly. His vision whited out. The ground rushed up.

  Impact.

  Darkness.