Chapter Eleven

A spontaneous smile rose on Rhys’s lips. The room within was warm and welcoming, bright with candles and a merry fire on the hearth. Something bubbled in a cast-iron pot, smelling gloriously like a savory stew. A table was set with fresh bread and butter and honey, along with a pot of tea. Rhys could have wept, only then realizing how worn and anxious he’d become.

“Are you going to let all the heat out of the cottage?”

The last of Rhys’s tension eased from his shoulders and he hurriedly shut the door behind him. “Well met, Ravan,” he said, bowing to the witch who stepped out of a dark corner with a bowl of apples in her hands.

Raven set the bowl on the table as she hastily passed it, then pulled Rhys into a tight embrace. He barely heard the words vehemently whispered in his ear, but the horror and growing dread eased its hold on his heart, and he drew the first easy breath he’d taken in a long time. Tears filled his eyes, and he made no move to hide them. After Luka had sent him away, Widow Ravan had been his ally, even when his pride wouldn’t allow him to accept her help.

She put him back in one of her abrupt moves, sniffing at her own tears. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it,” she confessed, then drew a deep, steadying breath. “Well, you’re here now and dinner’s ready.”

“Thank you—”

Ravan waved off his words, going to the fire. “Luka asked for my help. Of course, I came. How is he?”

Before he could answer, the latch on the door rattled and Luka entered in a rush of cold air and snow. He shoved the door closed against a brisk wind and stomped the caked ice from his boots before turning to them. “The storm’s growing worse.” He took in the room and his face lit with a smile. “This is delightful. Ravan, thank you. I’m nearly starved and half frozen.”

Luka crossed to them, giving Rhys a shy smile as he walked by him to embrace Ravan and place a kiss on her forehead. Rhys studied them. In his dream, Ravan had called him Papa. But that couldn’t be so. Silver already overtook her light hair, her face worn though still pretty, while Luka seemed much younger. Rhys had thought him thirty years old at most, body well-built and virile.

He tore his hungry gaze away from him to look at the fire, hoping Ravan hadn’t caught the longing in his eyes for a soft bed and Luka’s arms. A smile twitched his lips as he wondered if Luka was aware he planned on seducing him that night.

Ravan clapped her hands like a young girl, regaining his attention. “Now that we’re all safe, please, sit down. There’s much to discuss.”

They took a moment to wash with some water simmering at the hearth, Rhys salivating from the delicious smell of stew wafting from the pot over the flames.

“Let me serve you,” he asked, reaching for the ladle.

Ravan returned his smile. “I feel the exhaustion in you. Go and sit with Luka. But there is something,” she continued with a sly wink. “You can make us breakfast.”

“My pleasure, madam.” Rhys sketched a bow, heart light with joy and a peace he hadn’t felt in what seemed an eternity. He’d often brought in eggs from the barn and made them breakfast while Ravan mixed her potions nearby. Those had been happy days, despite the ache of loss that never left him. He wished now that he had accepted her offer of a room back then, rather than live on his own in the rough lean-to he’d built outside of town, and spent most of his lonely nights, until he’d gotten work at a farm… But pride had always been his folly.

He took the chair beside Luka at the table and saw the yearning in his gaze before Luka glanced away, blushing slightly, making his heart skip. Ravan handed them full bowls, the aroma intoxicating, and settled with her own opposite them. Hungry as he was, he waited while the two witches closed their eyes and soundlessly thanked their beloved earth and sky for this safe haven and warm hearth and the food set before them.

In a moment, Ravan handed him a plate of bread and butter and honey and took up her spoon. “Luka, can you tell me now what has transpired? I think you owe me this much.”

Rhys watched him. Candlelight glinted on the strands of silver in his long braid, but he sat up, body as vigorous as ever, eyes keen, intelligent, beautiful. “Most of the story you know,” Luka began. “But I would like to hear from Rhys how he’d come to be in Aethan’s hands again.”

Rhys swallowed his mouthful of stew at the expected question. He’d wracked his brains for any reply that wouldn’t wound Luka, but finally concluded that the truth was the only answer he could give. Luka would know it, otherwise.

“When I left you, Luka, I was lost. I didn’t know what I had done wrong, that you would send me away like you did. I had somehow lost your love that was everything to me.” He ran a finger through the condensation on his water goblet, laughing a little. “I was barely eighteen and heartbroken and felt life had lost all beauty.” He grieved a little for the young man he’d been, once again alone in the world. Luka’s sound of hurt was a slight balm for the painful memory.

“Ravan met me at the bottom of the trail and took me in as her apprentice to learn her ways of magic. But it ate me alive to be a burden, doing nothing to earn my keep save for a few chores around the cottage.” He went on despite Ravan’s muttered protest. “I built a shelter for myself outside town and did whatever odd job needed doing, whatever put food in my belly, finally laboring for a nearby farmer, Calan Dunne—

“You know him?” he asked when Luka growled in his throat.

“Only that he is a brutish man,” Ravan put in angrily before Luka could speak.

Rhys shrugged. “He wasn’t kind and worked me to the bone. But I had a meal and warm bed every night—”

“And no friends and no chance of making any,” Ravan interrupted again. “You should have stayed with me. I could have kept you safe—”

“I couldn’t ask that of you,” Rhys countered, leaning toward her across the table. “Aethan had found me once before. Without Luka’s protection, it was only a matter of time before he unearthed me again.”

Ravan visibly paled and quickly glanced at Luka. Rhys turned to him as well, wishing he could take his words back. Luka’s eyes were downcast on the bread he was crumbling between his fingers, lines of suffering etched on the profile he kept to Rhys while his chest rose on a quavering breath. He wouldn’t look at Rhys and Rhys hurried to finish his tale.

“I was out late one night last summer, chasing an errant goat through the woods, when I walked into Aethan. Lorin was with him and I had no chance to escape. They never said how they’d found me. Why would they look on some isolated farm outside Sweetbrier? However, they had done so, and locked me in that room you found me in, Luka, for their…amusement. At first, I made many attempts to escape, but the punishments were painful, and I at last gave up.” He couldn’t help but add, “There was no one out in the world who cared what became of me anyway. Except maybe Ravan,” he added, to be fair.

He waited, but Luka didn’t speak, though there was a glimmer of tears in the corner of the eye he could see. Luka had hurt him deeply, but he never realized until now how angry he still was at the man.

“I answered your question,” he said quietly. Luka flinched and rubbed the tears from his eyes with an impatient gesture.

Ravan put out a hand in protest. “You mustn’t blame Luka, Rhys. This is my fault. I was charged with watching you. And failed. I didn’t even realize you’d been taken. I recognize now I must have been bespelled. Whenever I felt for you, I was filled with reassurance and peace. You were safe. But that was obviously not so. I failed—”

“Enough, Ravan,” Luka said. His tone was soft, but an instant silence fell on the room. Pressure built in Rhys’s ears as the earth took a breath, then sound burst back in, the fire crackled loudly after the utter quiet.

Rhys turned to Luka in concern. “You’ve set a ward. How… Are they near?”

Luka lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “They won’t come this way.”

Ravan thumped her hand on the table, making them both jump, and Rhys drew a quick breath at the fire in her green eyes. “That isn’t a ward. Papa, what did you do?”

“I will keep him safe,” Luka vowed, and set his lips in a grim line. The fire crackled in the sudden tension between them.

“That isn’t an answer. The earth…shifted. What did you do?”

Luka gave her a defiant look. “I made a wish.”

The color drained from Ravan’s face betraying her fear, and Luka’s expression softened. “It was a little wish, honey. Nothing to shake the foundations. I merely turned their thoughts from Oak Knoll. We need rest, Rhys especially. I’ve guaranteed we’ll get it.”

Ravan clearly wanted to argue but shook her head instead. “You know the danger of this, so I’ll say no more. I only worry for your safety.”

“I know and thank you for your concern.” Luka drew a deep breath and turned unexpectedly to Rhys. “You have questions.”

Rhys scrambled to gather his myriad of thoughts. “Too many to express,” he said with a slight laugh, and watched, dismayed, as Luka’s expression turned wistful. He nodded, coming to a decision. “But I don’t want to hear any answers until morning. We’re tired and anxious. Let’s eat this delicious meal, sleep, and gather back here tomorrow.”

Luka smiled faintly. “You wish to spare me. You needn’t. I deserve your anger, and much more.”

Ravan made an exasperated sound. “Enough, Luka. Listen to the boy. There will be time enough in the morning for recriminations.”

Luka laughed aloud, and Rhys’s heart hurt for the desperate tone underneath. “As you wish.”

They ate in silence for a moment, then Luka took Rhys’s hand under the table and Rhys’s swirling thoughts calmed. He raised their hands, kissing Luka’s knuckles. “I love you,” he said, searching the dark eyes fixed on him. “We’ll get through this,” he continued and saw a fire kindle in Luka’s gaze.

“I love you too.” Luka held Rhys’s hand against his cheek.

Ravan dropped her spoon in her now empty bowl and rose to her feet, giving them a wry look. “Now that that’s settled, I’m going to my room. For the rest of the night,” she added plainly, and winked when Rhys gaped at her. Giving a merry laugh, she left the table, picking up a candle and book off a nearby shelf before disappearing through one of the doors in the far wall. Rhys caught a glimpse of firelight in a cozy room before they were left alone.

He turned to Luka and saw the dark blush on his face, but also the heat smoldering in his gaze on him. Rhys rose and leaned over him, bent to nibble at his lips.

“Why don’t you attend to the fire while I clear the dishes?” he suggested, and Luka nodded helplessly, his gaze on Rhys’s lips. Warmth flooded through Rhys, making his cock stir.

“The fire?” he said more firmly. Luka stood, snatching a kiss as he passed Rhys, his eyes flashing. Joy combined with the lust licking Rhys’s senses. He loved ordering the powerful witch around, up until the point Luka took control and drove him mad with his touches and teases, fucking him gloriously.

He hastily cleared the table, taking a moment to carry the butter down to the root cellar. He’d left it out to spoil once upon a time, and Ravan had boxed his ears. Keeping the lesson in mind, he washed the dishes using the simmering water from the hearth and Ravan’s soap, fragrant with herbs, before joining Luka on the rug before the fire.

Rhys took a moment to look down at him. Luka sat cross-legged, compact body held loosely, belying the intense gaze in the soulful eyes he raised to Rhys. Firelight played over his handsome features starting an ache in Rhys. He found nothing more erotic than to see his own pale skin twined with Luka’s mahogany limbs, their fingers woven, Luka’s dark hair spread around them mixed with his light tresses.

A flame ignited in Luka’s eyes and he reached eagerly for Rhys, pulling him into his arms. Rhys straddled him, kissing him repeatedly while he undid the string in Luka’s hair and slowly unwound his braid, sliding the soft strands between his fingers. Luka moaned against his lips and Rhys slipped his tongue into the warm depths of his sweet mouth.

He pulled back, pressing their foreheads together. “Take me to bed,” he demanded, staring into Luka’s dark eyes, and saw love and lust flare, then settle into smoldering passion.

“As you wish,” Luka answered and slid his hands under Rhys’s ass, pulling him against his hardness. Joy burst in Rhys’s chest. Luka’s obviously forced politeness betrayed his tight control of emotions running rampant under the surface. Rhys would soon have the pleasure of pushing him beyond his restraint and watching him come apart.

“I love you,” he declared, and smothered Luka’s answer in a deep kiss. He untangled from Luka’s arms and rose to his feet, drawing Luka up with him, kissing him as he led him by the hand to the open door in the far corner of the room, his pulse racing in anticipation.