Chapter Sixteen

Rhys chewed his lips, uncertain. They’d traveled many leagues that day, and as evening approached, Luka searched for a place in the woods they could fortify for the night. There was something wrong with him. Rhys had sensed a change in him when he’d come out of that circle in the oak grove, growing stronger as the day progressed. A distance, as if Luka cut off a part of himself.

He’d have none of that. Luka was often led by his fierce, passionate heart, willing to put himself in danger for those he loved. He had something planned, something Rhys wouldn’t condone, and strove to hide it. Rhys would confront him with it that night before Luka did something they’d both regret.

Luka drew the dark stallion to a halt and studied the boulders in the small clearing they’d entered. Pride and love stirred in Rhys as he watched him. He could feel the power in him, the strength in his taut body. Noble and beautiful in the long cloak Ravan had lent him. He marveled again that such a man could love him, the bastard and plaything of his enemy.

“Luka?” he whispered, throat tight.

At first, Luka seemed not to hear him, but then turned, dark eyes glittering in the fading light. “What is it, dear heart?”

Rhys rode up next to him, leaned and clasped the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss. Somehow Luka always tasted sweet, a heady wine to his senses.

“I love you,” he said firmly. “We’ll make camp and eat. Afterwards, we’ll discuss what’s weighing on your mind.”

Luka blinked, and his lips twitched in a reluctant smile. “You seem sure of yourself.”

“I know you, my witch. You’d bear the world on your shoulders. I won’t allow it.”

Rhys held his breath. There’d been a flash of temper in Luka’s handsome eyes. Had he pushed too far? But then Luka blushed and glanced away, seeming shy.

“As you wish,” Luka yielded. He took another look around the glen. “We’ll stay here tonight.”

Rhys slid from the mare’s back, taking the time to rub her down with the cloth Luka handed him. Tall trees surrounded the glen, the scent of pine and rich soil and fern thick in the cold air caressing his face. Luka did the same with his mount, then left Rhys to lead them to the small spring in a corner while he went over to the boulders.

Rhys scratched the mare behind the ears while she drank, his boots sinking into the thick moss, then did the same to the stallion, who snorted and bobbed its head, shaking him off.

“Thank you for carrying us today,” he murmured to them. “After I’ve fed our sweet witch, I’ll warm the grain Ravan has packed for you.”

He left them, then came to an abrupt halt halfway across the glen, a thrill shooting through him. Luka stood at the tall boulders, hands held in front of him, palms out, and Rhys closed his eyes, letting the wave of power wash over him. He knew Luka felt uncomfortable in the lush robe Ravan had provided him, but it suited him, the rich burgundy complimenting his dark complexion.

He peered through his lashes, moistening his lips. Luka stole his breath, powerful and beautiful. He would have gone to his knees for him then, taken his thick cock in his mouth. But Luka needed to be wooed, though he didn’t realize it, a service Rhys was more than willing to perform.

“Are we safe?” he asked, coming up to him.

Luka cocked his head as if listening. “I think so. Ravan has put them off our trail, though it is temporary. We’ll need to be on our way by dawn.”

Rhys nodded, and couldn’t help but touch his hand as he passed him, having spotted dried limbs on the edge of the glen, perfect for starting a fire. Luka gave him that shy smile again, and Rhys stopped to kiss him, grateful he had the right to do so.

Dinner consisted of leftover stew and Ravan’s bread. Luka had paused, head bowed, to give his thanks, and Rhys’s chest expanded with the love he felt for this good man. After eating, Luka rinsed the few dishes in the spring while Rhys built up the fire and fed the horses. It had been a cold day, and he feared the temperature might drop below freezing during the night. He thought about staking the horses close by, then concluded any of Ravan’s creatures would have enough sense to stay near the fire’s warmth.

He returned to the fire and watched Luka walk to the edge of the glen, no doubt checking his warding. Seeming satisfied, Luka started back and Rhys hungrily watched his lithe, strong figure as he approached. Last night had been amazing. He’d always enjoyed his time with Luka, his sure touch, gorgeous cock, but their lovemaking had been overshadowed by Aethan’s cruel use of him. But it seemed last night, as Luka caressed him, he’d gathered all the hurt and humiliation and horror of Aethan’s attentions, and washed Rhys free of them with his lips and tongue and murmured blessings. He could meet Luka now with a whole heart, unhindered by nightmares.

Luka appeared thoughtful as he came up to the fire, then caught Rhys’s stare. Rhys thrilled at the dark blush that flooded his face. But even as their eyes met, Luka’s gaze slid away. Rhys’s heart pounded. Time to find out what was going on with his secretive witch. He allowed Luka to crouch across the fire, stir the embers before adding more wood against the growing darkness, but didn’t remove his focus on him.

Luka squirmed and at last looked up. “You have questions?”

“Yes. You’re concealing something from me. What is it?”

Displeasure once again flashed in Luka’s dark eyes. He wasn’t used to being challenged. But Rhys wouldn’t let it lie. This was too important. Gathering his courage—Luka could be formidable when angry—Rhys pressed. “What is bothering you, my love?”

Luka shrugged, but then his lips twitched as if he realized it was a childish gesture. “If I appear preoccupied, it’s because I’m worried about keeping you safe and keeping the Well out of Aethan’s hands.”

“There’s more to it than that,” Rhys countered, and held his breath.

Luka raised a brow, giving him an aloof look, a barrier going up between them. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Rhys leaned toward him, the heat of the flames uncomfortable on his skin. “I think you do.”

Luka growled in his throat and stood. “Believe what you want. I’m going to bed.”

He marched past Rhys, who scrambled to his feet, boot slipping on the moss covering the glen. They’d build the fire close to the boulders, creating a warm pocket in which to sleep. Luka reached the tall rocks as Rhys came up to him, and he turned, thrusting out his arm. His hand landed flat against Rhys’s chest, keeping distance between them.

Rhys grunted at the impact, widening his eyes with surprise. He knew Luka was strong, muscles lean and toned. He’d licked them often enough. But there had been a strength in that push he hadn’t expected. Nothing magical. But Rhys was young and strong, sure he was an easy match for Luka. But now… If they were to grapple, he was no longer certain he’d come out on top. Somehow, that thought thrilled him to the core. He wanted one day to be at Luka’s mercy, held down by that powerful body, unable to free himself…

The firelight reflecting off the rocks highlighted their features. Luka must have read his expression, sucked in a breath, though he only said, “Let me be, Rhys.”

Rhys shivered at the warning in his voice. “No.”

He took a step closer, forcing Luka to drop his hand or push him away. Thankfully, Luka lowered his arm, allowing Rhys into his space, though he wouldn’t meet Rhys’s searching gaze. Rhys cupped his chin and Luka clenched his jaw.

“What is going on, Luka?” he asked softly, studying his averted face, willing Luka to look at him. “There’s a…a coldness in you I’ve never sensed before. It’s been growing since you returned from the oak grove. I’m worried for you.”

Luka’s exhale came out on a sigh. “You needn’t be concerned. I know what I’m doing.”

Rhys forced his chin up. “No, I don’t believe you do.”

Fire flashed in Luka’s rich brown eyes, temper flaring. Rhys moved closer, forcing him against the stone wall. He still held Luka’s chin and placed his free hand on the rock beside his head, trapping him with his body.

“Tell me,” he demanded, staring into Luka’s glittering eyes.

Luka drew himself up, body trembling with fury against Rhys. “No.”

Rhys shivered. This was it. He was no match for Luka, either physically or in the use of magic. Perhaps love could win out over both. That Luka could brush him aside like a gnat and simply leave, there was no question. Would he hurt him? No, though he could so easily shred his heart.

The fire crackled behind them, cold air pressing on his back. One of the horses shifted. A small animal rustled in the nearby bushes. Firelight played on Luka’s face, carved mahogany, and his dark eyes glowed, proud and angry, devastating.

“Tell me,” Rhys urged roughly.

Luka raised his chin, eyes narrowing to smoldering slits. Power surged in him, flowing into Rhys where their bodies touched. It swept through him like fire, bursting into his mind like a spike. He winced at the sharp pain, tears springing into his eyes.

“Tell me,” he forced out. He pressed his forehead to Luka’s, both slippery with sweat, and fell into his eyes. Anger and fear and stubborn pride swirled hotly around him, though love was mixed throughout. Rhys pushed deeper, ignoring the agony building in his head. There was something… He came against a barrier of ice, a locked door.

“Don’t,” Luka whispered in his mind, a command, a plea. Dread.

Rhys felt the moment Luka pushed back, driving him from his thoughts. Frantic, Rhys threw himself against the ice, and screamed as the terrible cold seared into him, freezing his limbs, his heart, lungs. He couldn’t breathe! His body collapsed, his mind swirling in a vortex of exquisite pain into darkness.

He was back instantly, slamming into his body with a cry that scorched his throat, leaving it raw. Luka held his sprawled body, head bent over him, and a tear splashed against his upturned face.

“I’m well,” he whispered and struggled to sit up, wincing at the pain pounding in his head. Luka pulled him against his chest, pressing fingers to his throbbing temple. His pain eased, though his body felt beyond exhausted.

“Why didn’t you stop?” Luka asked him in anguish. Tears choked his voice.

Rhys pushed away, climbing to his knees, and Luka dropped his arms to his sides, looking defeated, miserable. Rhys cupped his cheek, felt him flinch, but didn’t let go. “I saw what you had planned.”

Luka tilted his head back against the boulder, hands clenched on his drawn-up knees. “I won’t let them hurt you. Never again,” he said defiantly. His defiant gaze challenged him.

“You would kill them,” Rhys said carefully.

“If I had to.”

The admission shocked him, though he had seen that dark thought, buried in ice. Angered, frightened, he nudged between Luka’s knees, grasped his hands to pin them against the stone. “You will not,” he said forcefully, glaring down at him.

“I will, if I have no other choice.” Luka set his lips in a stubborn line. They stayed like that a moment, gazes clashing, then Rhys’s shoulders slumped as all emotion left him, except one of profound sorrow.

“You cannot kill for me, Luka,” he said. Begged, his heart aching that his beautiful, gentle witch would have such thoughts. Something shifted in Luka’s eyes, the piercing light fading.

“Why, Rhys, if it is to protect you?”

Rhys’s heart stumbled at his uncertainty. “Because, my dearest witch, you are all that is good and pure. You hold life sacred above all else. I would not have you go against your nature. I would rather die myself than see it happen.”

“No,” Luka said brokenly, and dropped his gaze. “You can’t leave me…alone.”

“I never will,” Rhys promised fervently. “We will find another way to deal with our enemies.”

Luka let out a shaky breath and nodded. Rhys smiled slightly and bent to kiss Luka’s tears from his eyes. He became aware of how they sat, Luka against the wall, Rhys between his legs. He moistened his lips and Luka’s breath caught. The heat of his body crept into Rhys, and then fire scorched through him when mischief glinted in Luka’s eyes and he dropped his knees open in clear invitation.

“Oh, you don’t fight fair, witch,” he murmured and eased into Luka’s embrace, relishing the feel of his solid body against him. But he also felt Luka’s exhaustion, in both body and mind, and quieted the riot of his blood. He kissed him once, the soft brush of lips, and groaned, wanting to drown in him. Luka held on to him when he pushed away, and he gave a breathless laugh. “We’re both beyond tired and need to sleep,” he explained. “Let’s see what the morning brings?”

Doubt flickered in Luka’s eyes, but maybe it was the firelight, because he smiled and kissed the tip of Rhys’s nose. “Very well.” He moved to sit up, but Rhys pushed him gently back.

“I’ll take care of the fire. Sleep now,” he suggested, and waited until Luka wrapped in his cloak with a sigh and settled against the stones, head pillowed on his arms.

Rhys crossed to the fire, banked the coals, and added several larger pieces of wood. The horses stood nearby, heads down. Night had closed around them, a dark cold wall on the edge of firelight. Rhys checked Luka’s ward. Still strong, even after all the energy he’d expelled that day.

“My witch,” he murmured, heart full, humbled. He wanted in that moment for all of it to be over, that they could forget about the Well of Hope. Find a home to share and live together in peace. But Luka had taught him the dangers of wishing.

Instead, he clenched a fist. “We’ll end this soon, darling,” he said, and joined Luka against the stones.

Luka looked up at him, eyes unreadable in the flickering light. Rhys tucked his cloak tight and lay down beside him, smiling as Luka rolled to his side, pulled Rhys close, and nestled his head on his shoulder.

“Goodnight, my heart,” Luka whispered, reaching for his hand.

“Goodnight, sweet witch,” Rhys said, and let sleep take him.