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    Summary

    Alec kissed him like he had the first time, desperately, but tenderly, with all the rashness of a man in love.
    It was Magnus who pulled back, thumb gently brushing over Alec’s cheekbone.
    “I’m going to miss this,” he said, voice pitched low, “when we get back to Alicante.”
    “As will I,” Alec allowed, bowing his head to rest his forehead against Magnus’. “But I know we can show them how it’s done, you and I.”

    As long as he had this, the unconditional love of an extraordinary man, the gift of his passion behind closed doors and the tenderness of his eyes in the secrecy of his mind, as long as there was their burning bodies melting together to express what words couldn’t, Alec didn’t need to worry.
    What was the worst that could happen?

    This is a sequel to Dead Men Tell No Tales, but it can be read individually.

    Series
    Language:
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