Spellbound by Marcus Atley Read Free Book Online Page A

his gaze to stay upwards, refusing to give into the temptation to look again.
    “But you’re a cambion.”
    “I know what I am, brat. I didn’t say he was my sire,” he scoffed. He disappeared into the kitchen and if Elion leaned back, he could watch Stavros trying to reach into a cabinet that was further away than their bond would allow him to go. Elion frowned at Stavros’ stubbornness and rolled his eyes when Stavros finally got his hands on what he was reaching for. He heard the clanking of glasses and then Stavros was back with a glass of wine extended in Elion’s direction. Elion eyed it carefully for a second, letting the shock of the casual action sink in.
    “Thanks,” Elion said. “Do you feel like something’s missing?”
    “What do you mean?” Stavros mumbled as he reclaimed his place on the floor.
    “I don’t know. It just seems like something’s missing from all of this.”
    Elion made a memo to phrase his words better after that. The almost casual Stavros was shot back to Oblivion, and the grumpy, threatening Stavros was back in the bat of a lash, grumbling, degrading, and cussing at Elion without hesitation.
    “Are you telling me how to do my job? I think I would-“
    “I wasn’t blaming you! I was just asking a damn question! Why do you always have to turn everything into a fight?” Elion demanded. “Just forget I said anything.” He snatched another file from the coffee table and placed it in his lap, ignoring the burning stare from Stavros.
    ~~
    Stavros glanced up to find Elion slouched back with his eyes closed. A file was spread across his lap and his head was leaning at an awkward angle. Stavros knew it was immature to start another fight with the brat. He knew that Elion wasn’t accusing him of poor work ethic, but he couldn’t help snapping at him. Mikhail had told him countless times to stop blaming the darkness in himself for his shitty attitude, but he couldn’t. He knew that Mikhail had the power to do something like this to them, he just didn’t think that Mikhail would. The old bastard had never been so cruel.
    He groaned under his breath and tossed his work into a sloppy pile. Nothing productive was going to come from anymore reading.
    Elion was right, as much as it annoyed him to admit it. There was something missing and he couldn’t figure it out, and that only pissed him off more. He didn’t mean to take it out on the brat; he just happened to be there. With his silky skin and bright smile. It made Stavros want to break something.
    Now the brat was sleeping on his couch and staining it with the scent of flowers and innocence. It infuriated him. Yet, he found himself tugging the brat into a flat sleeping position and covering him with a blanket.
    His legs were aching from sitting on the floor so long, but going to his room was now impossible unless he woke Elion up. He knew that would only lead to another awkward silence or argument. There was no way he was going to sleep on the floor every night just because the kid had to sleep. He rarely did himself, even when his body demanded it, which is why when he began to drift off with his head leaning on the couch and his own breaths falling in sync with Elion’s, he didn’t have an answer for that either.
    Stavros trailed his heavy-lidded eyes over Elion’s features, taking in his angular jaw and long lashes resting against flawless skin. Elion’s nose scrunched with distaste and his fingers sleepily brushed at the strand of hair tickling his pointed ear before falling back to his chest. Elion looked at peace in his sleep and Stavros wondered for a moment what that was like, to be able to close your eyes and drift off so carelessly.
    “Stavros, wake up.”
    He growled, cracking an eyelid enough to make out the form of the half-awake elf in front of him.
    “I need to piss,” Elion whined.
    Stavros groaned as he heaved himself upwards. He waited in the hallway, his forehead pressed to the wall while he resisted the