Chapter Six

Rhys stretched, weary from the long hours of travel. The mare was tired as well, head down as they plodded the barely discernable deer trail through the tall pine. Luka dozed, draped on the horse’s neck. An hour ago, he’d leaned to the animal’s ear and whispered something, then patted Rhys’s thigh and gave himself to sleep.

The horse seemed to know where she was going, so Rhys relaxed, letting his mind wander. It had been cold like this the day Luka sent him from his side. He’d been scared, unbelievably hurt, with no knowledge of what he’d done wrong—why Luka no longer loved him.

Snow had sifted through the trees, stung his face, the trail growing darker, like this one, as he came off the mountain. Worn, heart sore, the scent of wood smoke from the village only served as a reminder of the warmth and love he’d found at Luka’s hearth. He’d pulled the thick coat Luka had given him tighter against the chill air and thought of the embraces he’d never feel again.

Rhys huffed a laugh at the memory. He’d been so young. So lost in love with this man in front of him, who’d swept into that vile cellar like an avenging god to save him. Rhys had worshipped him, until Luka’s diffident glances betrayed the love he tried to keep hidden, and Rhys finally saw him as a man, as lonely and vulnerable as himself. He couldn’t help but love him in return, and one glorious night he climbed into Luka’s bed and gave him his heart.

The trail turned, opening into a rocky space on the side of the mountain with the mouth of a cave gaping across the small area. The horse came to a halt and Rhys looked cautiously around, listening. Only the reassuring rustle of a small animal in the brush reached him and he swung to the ground. Luka sighed, coming awake, and Rhys helped him dismount, holding him close, hand on the small of his back when he landed.

Luka looked at him and gorgeous color flushed his cheeks, a self-conscious smile lifting the corner of his mouth as he glanced aside. Rhys chuckled, sure Luka had been dreaming of him while Rhys did the same, and delighted in the shiver that ran through Luka’s lean body.

“We’ll stay here tonight,” Luka told him hurriedly and eased out of his arms. Rhys let him go, though he’d rather hold him a while longer. It had been five weary, lonely years, after all. He could be forgiven his need.

Luka patted the horse’s shoulder, then found a large stick and scraped at the snow and ice near the trees. Understanding dawned and Rhys knelt beside him to uncover a patch of grass for the horse, who began nibbling on the tough sward before they’d finished.

They drank at a nearby spring then Luka rose and stretched. “Will you gather wood for a fire while I find us something to eat?” he asked, indicating fallen tree limbs on the edge of the rocky outcrop from past storms. “You may build the fire in the cave. There’s a crack in the roof for the smoke.”

“As you wish,” Rhys replied, swallowing a sigh. Luka didn’t eat meat, so it would be pinon nuts and a few berries, if they were lucky, when Rhys was hungry enough for a rabbit or two.

He gathered an armful of the smaller pieces of wood and crossed to the opening of the cave. He had to duck to get inside, but the space within was roomy with a ring of stone near the entrance holding remnants of previous fires. The floor was of fine sand and he sat, cross-legged, and stacked kindling inside the stones.

Snow fell lightly outside the cave and he sat back, hands resting on his thighs. He drew in a deep lungful of air to find his center, again, and serenity spread from his heart. When Luka had taken him from that cellar and brought him home, Rhys had been a wild thing, driven half mad with pain and abuse, nearly starved. Luka’s patience and gentle words had calmed him. Luka had taught him to find the quiet space inside himself and from there gather strength.

Rhys went there now, peace settling over his troubled thoughts. He felt the power in the world around him and lured it inside. One of the first gifts Luka had given him was how to make fire. Rhys focused the energy in his hands, concentrated, then spilled it into the pile of sticks. Flames sprang to life, danced along the surface of the wood, and warmth soon filled the interior of the cave.

Once the fire was going strong, Rhys gathered larger pieces of wood to last them through the night. At one point, he looked into the shadowy forest, concern beginning to gnaw at him. Luka should be back by now. He chewed his lips then retreated to the entrance of the cave. If Luka didn’t return soon, he’d search him out, dangerous as that might be. He added a log to the fire then went back outside. The mare stood nearby, shaking in the growing cold, and Rhys coaxed her closer to the fire where heat flowed from the cave’s entrance.

The scrape of a boot on the edge of the outcrop sent his pulse hammering, and a relieved breath escaped him when firelight caught Luka’s form approaching from the spring. For an instant he’d panicked, thinking Aethan had found him.

Luka met his frightened gaze. “For the moment, he is far away, my love,” he assured him, his deep voice a welcomed sound in the gathering dusk, and Rhys smiled as he went to the fire. His tunic was pulled up, and he knelt, dumping out his findings. Rhys gaped at the pile of mushrooms, wild onions, garlic, frozen cranberries and crabapples, rosehip, cattails, and even a handful of black walnuts.

“Can you bring me a flat stone?” Luka requested and Rhys hurried to comply. The last of the light was going, the snow falling harder, and he hastened back to the warmth of the cave, kneeling by Luka’s side. His stomach grumbled, and he gave Luka a sheepish glance.

Luka kissed him, his lips quirking. “I can’t let my lover starve,” he explained, and Rhys felt his face warm. He watched curiously while Luka placed the stone in the middle of the fire. Flames leaped up around it, sparks flashing into the sky, quickly going out. When the fire settled, Luka placed their meal on the stone to heat, shoving the cattail roots into the embers.

While they waited, Rhys took up several stones and cracked open the walnuts, adding them to the pile on the stone.

“Where did you find all this?” he asked, impressed. He hadn’t noticed any of it while they were riding.

Luka shrugged. “I know where to look. Remember, I’ve spent my entire life in these woods.”

Rhys stirred the fire, keeping the flames away from their meal. “Are you from Sweetbrier?” he asked cautiously, referring to the town below Luka’s cottage Rhys had fled to after he’d left him. Luka rarely spoke of his past, though Rhys longed to know everything about him.

Luka was silent and Rhys despaired of him answering.

“No,” Luka said abruptly, and Rhys sighed, wondering if he’d ever open up to him. He watched the fire until Luka picked up his free hand, kissed his palm.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, lips against Rhys’s skin. “I don’t mean to be secretive, but much of my past is too dark to speak of, too dangerous to know.” He placed Rhys’s hand against his cheek, covered it with his own, his gaze pleading when he spoke, “Rhys, all I’ve longed to do was move forward with you. Leave the tortuous web of my life behind. But all my plans are coming undone. All my choices seem wrong. I don’t know—”

Rhys covered his lips with his fingers, halting the rush of words rising on a note of panic. “Stop, Luka. You needn’t tell me any more. We are together now, and I am content with that.”

Luka drew a shuddering breath. “No, my heart, there are things I should tell you now, though you may hate me afterward. But I swear I never knew the depth of my folly until this moment.”

Rhys pressed their foreheads together, looking into Luka’s eyes swimming with tears. “I am sure there are many things you have to tell me, but not tonight. We are both tired and worn. Please, Luka, let us eat and get what sleep we may. There will be time enough in the morning for revelations, if you still feel the need.”

He kissed Luka’s face, his lips, tasting his tears. Sitting back, he rubbed at his own eyes then plucked a cranberry from the stone, finally warm, and offered it to Luka, who opened his trembling lips. Rhys took one for himself, enjoying the tart, faintly sweet taste as it burst on his tongue. They ate their fill, Luka showing him how to scrape the cattail roots that hinted of potatoes when Rhys chewed them.

They shared the walnuts and Luka’s mood seemed to lighten as Rhys teased him for the last bite.

“You’re greedy tonight,” Luka said fondly, and the love in his eyes made Rhys’s pulse jump.

“Everything is delicious,” he defended himself and scooped up the last mushroom. He fed it to Luka, his fingers lingering on his full lips as he watched the lovely color mount in his dusky cheeks. Luka took everything so much to heart, seizing blame where maybe there was none. Rhys kissed him once more. “Sleep now. Things will look better in the morning.”

Luka appeared skeptical but gave him a slight nod. He sat up and dug in a pocket, pulling out several stones. He chose the granite, tucking the others back away. Rhys wondered what they were for. Luka never did anything without purpose.

Luka rubbed the granite between his hands, the stone the size of a small egg. “I found this by the spring when I washed our food. Would you mind banking the fire for tonight while I ward the cave?”

“Of course.”

Rhys knelt up and stirred the glowing embers of their fire into a pile, adding a few large pieces of wood against it, then sat with his back to a nearby wall, feet toward the fire. He’d seen Luka ward their home with sage and sweetgrass. Widow Ravan used cedar. What would Luka do with a stone?

Luka moved to the center of the cave and took a slow turn around, banishing any malicious energy from the hollow. Raven had taught Rhys that much, explaining they wouldn’t want to trap anything negative in with them when she warded a place. After several long heartbeats, Luka sat cross-legged on the sandy floor, a dark figure in the bright glow from the fire, relaxed, comfortable, as if he rested in his own home. Watching him, pride stirred in Rhys’s breast. Most others he’d witnessed would strut around the area they warded chanting under their breaths, making grand gestures and filling the space with smoke that stung his eyes. It all seemed to be for show, their wards precarious at best.

It was never like that with Luka. He went calmly about his business, with purpose, and a reverence for the magic of the earth. He sat calmly now, his focus on the stone he passed back and forth between his hands as if weighing it, studying its structure, its essence. He did this for a long moment, then stilled.

The hair on Rhys’s arms and the nape of his neck lifted, and he shivered. The air felt different, charged. His senses heightened. His cock stirred as well, and he sat forward, his heartbeat quickening. Witnessing Luka use his power never failed to arouse him.

Luka rose fluidly to his feet. Tucking the stone in a pocket, he held his hands open in front of his chest, palms out, and walked to the mouth of the cave. The air crackled as he stepped outside as if he pushed the ward wider. The mare snorted and stomped her front hoof as Luka approached her, but he spoke quietly to her and she settled, a shiver running over her when he placed his hands on her back. He stayed with her a moment, then left abruptly and hurried back to the fire.

“It’s getting cold out there,” he said, flashing Rhys a smile as he knelt, holding out his hands to the hot coals. He continued to shake, and Rhys sat back against the wall and opened his arms.

“Come here,” he murmured. Luka hastened to comply, crawling between his knees to sit with his back against Rhys’s chest. Rhys wrapped him in his arms, holding him close until he quit shivering. Once warm, Luka sighed and settled comfortably against him. Rhys kissed the top of his head, then moved him so he could undo his long braid and run his fingers through the silky hair. Luka practically purred, his eyes closing as he eased back against Rhys while Rhys continued to stroke his hair. It wasn’t long before Rhys followed him into sleep.