Chapter Twenty-Seven

Rhys set the last rock in place and rose to his feet with a heavy heart. It had been a terrible, frightening day, though it was still early afternoon. He ached for Luka. He’d helped them scrape out a shallow trough between Aspen trees in a small meadow, which would fill with wildflowers come spring. But for now, the grass was shorn and dry, covered with the golden leaves of autumn and patches of snow.

Luka had knelt by Loralyn, kissed her lips, then wandered to the edge of the trees while Rhys and Calan covered her with the dark, fertile soil. Luka now stood beneath a towering oak, a forlorn figure in his tattered tunic, braid tangled. His hand rested on the trunk of the tree, skin brown as the bark, though red sores dotted his face and hands. Rhys sighed, knowing how much Luka’s gentle heart was hurting.

Calan cleared his throat, his gaze on Luka as well. A stray snowflake landed on his face and he glanced at the gray sky. “We should go soon, before the snow in those clouds begins to fall in earnest,” he said gruffly. His breath plumed in the cold air and he hunched into his coat.

Rhys nodded in agreement, then put out his hand. “Thank you for this, and for carrying Luka to safety as well. I am in your debt.”

Calan clasped his hand in a firm grip. “You saved my son. We will not speak of debts between us, only abiding friendship.”

Rhys studied his grave, appealing face, and inclined his head, grateful to have the strong man on their side.

“Return to camp. I’ll bring Luka shortly,” he requested, and waited until Calan was hidden by the trees before going to Luka. His lover stiffened slightly at his approach, and kept his face averted, though Rhys could see the tears wetting his raw skin.

“Luka?”

Luka glanced at him, sorrow swimming in his eyes, but he averted his face at once. Rhys’s heart jumped when he realized Luka was self-conscious with him, as if Rhys would give a damn about his appearance, as long as the dear man still lived. Going to him, he put his arms carefully around him and pulled him back against his chest.

“Are you well, sweet witch?” he murmured in Luka’s ear, placing soft kisses on his turned cheek.

“No. My heart is broken, Rhys. But it will mend, like the rest of me, at its own pace. Is it time to go?”

“Yes. Calan thinks it will snow soon, and we should be on our way.”

“Very well.” Luka straightened, squared his shoulders, and Rhys was relieved to see the spark return to his dark eyes when he turned toward him. Luka smiled, tentative, and put a hand on Rhys’s arm. “I am more thankful than I can say that you are with me. It would prove too hard, otherwise.”

“I’ll always be with you,” Rhys promised, and placed a chaste kiss on his abused lips. They made their way to the others, Rhys catching the aroma of a stew on the air before they came up to the fire, and his mouth watered. Luka’s stomach grumbled, and they exchanged a small grin.

“Something smells delicious,” Luka said, his glance moving between Tarian and Ravan, Calan standing over them.

Tarian blushed with pleasure while Ravan explained, “Tarian worried you’d be hungry and gathered herbs, mushrooms, and tubers from the forest while I melted snow and kept the fire going. There are nuts drying in the coals as well.”

Luka looked touched and smiled sweetly at Tarian. “Thank you, lad. This is kind of you.”

Tarian mumbled something, clearly embarrassed, and Rhys came to his rescue. “Bowls and spoons are in my pack, if you’ll help me hand them out?” he asked and Tarian nodded, happy for something to take the attention off him. They dished out the stew and ate crouched around the fire, Rhys grateful for its warmth and for the savory burst on his tongue. The company finished quickly, in silence, then Tarian took the dishes to clean in the snow while the others packed.

When all was ready, they gathered to stand at the fire, a tired, forlorn group as the first flakes of snow fell. Rhys wished he could think of something heartening to say. Luka was especially discouraged, wrapped in a wool coat dug from Ravan’s pack, his lip bloody where he chewed on it.

Luka sighed, lifting his hands in a helpless gesture. “I’m sorry, my friends. This is not how I pictured the day going.”

“You could not have foreseen Aethan taking a hostage,” Rhys cut in. He wasn’t about to let Luka spiral. “He won this match. So, what is next, my witch?”

Luka opened his mouth, closed it again, peered at them one by one. “Calan, please take Tarian home.” He held up his hand when Tarian scowled. “Aethan will only find a way to use you against me again.” He moved closer and put a hand on Tarian’s shoulder. “I need to know you’re safe, before I do what I must.”

Tarian nodded, setting his lips, in that moment looking older than his fifteen years. “If that is your wish, lord,” he said stiffly, and bowed, high color in his face. Luka turned to Ravan. “Will you see they arrive home safely?”

“Of course. You will call to me if needed?”

“Have no doubt.” A tired smile tugged Luka’s mouth, squeezing Rhys’s heart. “I will meet you at the cabin afterwards, my dear.”

Ravan nodded, seemed about to say more, then simply embraced Luka and glanced at the others. “Will you come with me?”

“Of course, my lady,” Calan said, while Tarian bowed to her, his youthful face working. He hesitated beside Luka, but stomped after his father without speaking, not ready for open rebellion, though Rhys could feel his anger and frustration.

Luka watched him, confusion on his face, and Rhys smiled to himself. Luka would never realize how much the tragic hero he appeared to the young man. And once he’d saved Calan’s life, he’d earned Tarian’s love and loyalty, probably for life. They hadn’t seen the last of him, whatever Luka might wish. Though hopefully he stayed away until Aethan was dealt with.

Ravan whistled, and in a moment her horses trotted out of the trees, neighing when they saw her. She laughed and held out her arms, caressing each as they came up.

“Calan, will you and Tarian take the roan?” she asked, then looked back at Rhys and Luka. “Paddy is yours, Father, as long as you need him.” The stallion passed her and came over to nudge against Luka’s shoulder. Luka rubbed his nose.

“Thank you. Take care, Ravan,” he replied, and waved when she mounted her white mare and the three of them disappeared into the trees.

Rhys scattered the ashes of the fire, packing snow over a few glowing coals. Luka watched him, troubled, unsure, and Rhys gave him time to think. Their next move would be crucial, of that he was sure. It wasn’t until he gathered the packs and put a hand on the stallion to mount that Luka stopped him with a touch on the arm.

He didn’t quite meet Rhys’s searching gaze. “You could travel with Ravan,” he said quietly, and moistened his cracked, abused lips.

Rhys’s heart thumped, but he put a finger under Luka’s chin, tilting his face so their eyes met. “Is that what you want?” he asked, keeping his voice even, though his pulse ran riot. “You know I will follow you wherever you go.”

“Even if I take the horse?”

“Then I will be tired when I catch up.”

Temper flared in Luka’s eyes, but then his shoulders slumped, his face crumbling. “I made a grave error today, Rhys, that proved fatal. I can’t keep you safe.”

Rhys gently pulled Luka to him. He resisted, but Rhys merely smiled, tugging him closer. Their thighs touched, chests, and hunger crossed Luka’s face. He knew Luka wanted to kiss him and Rhys would have been happy to oblige. Instead, Luka dropped his head on Rhys’s shoulder with a deep sigh. Rhys would have none of that. He nudged Luka’s face up again and placed a tender kiss on his lips. Luka’s blood didn’t worry him, though he mourned Luka’s pain, both physical and the anguish of losing Loralyn.

He didn’t deepen the kiss, pulling back sooner than he would have liked, and studied Lukas face. “You seem to be healing,” he said with some surprise, the ugly red of his burns fading, the open sores closing.

Luka nodded. “Loralyn is strong—” His voice caught, tears shimmering in his beautiful eyes.

“She was amazing,” Rhys agreed. He held him a moment longer, then, “Shall we go, my sweet witch?”

“Yes. At least a short distance. I want to be away from here.”

Rhys swung his pack on a shoulder while Luka did the same, and they mounted the stallion, Luka in front of him. Rhys nudged the horse, and they headed into the woods the way they’d come. In a short time, Luka was nodding, and Rhys eased him back against his chest, cradling him between his thighs when Luka fell asleep with a murmured word of love.

Snow fell lightly as they traveled, filtering through the evergreen branches overhead, but steadily giving way to watery sunshine. Rhys opened his cloak and wrapped Luka snug against him, welcoming his warmth. A shuddering breath at last escaped him, and he felt he couldn’t fill his lungs as he allowed the terror of nearly losing Luka to overwhelm him. Damn Aethan to the void. If he’d lost him…

Rhys scrubbed the tears from his face with a shaky hand, trying to calm the mad beat of his heart, and huffed a laugh, knowing Luka would chide him for his anger and close despair. But then Luka would kiss him and tease away his dark mood with soft caresses that turned sure, his gaze heated and hungry…

Rhys’s arms convulsed around Luka and a desperate sound escaped him as his pulse surged, lust pounding through him. He groaned as his prick swelled. It was crazy! But his fear turned to an overwhelming need for Luka, who was sprawled against him. Luka’s thighs were warm under his hands, lean and strong. He knew the taste of the nut-brown skin; lighter colored and softer between his thighs, heating as it neared his balls and that beautiful, thick cock…

He moaned and hid his eyes against the top of Luka’s head. What was he doing? Luka was injured and in mourning. It didn’t seem to matter. He felt out of control, reckless, the horror and grief of earlier culminating to this moment in time and this man in his arms. The horse moved beneath them, knowing where to go, and Rhys shifted closer to Luka so that his dick rubbed against him with the powerful motion of the stallion.

A soft gasp escaped Luka, and he tilted his head back, blinking sleepy eyes. Naked, open, Rhys stared down at him, unable to hide the lust pulsing through him. Luka’s eyes widened, and flashed, and he shifted about to slide a hand up Rhys’s tunic, cup the back of his neck, and pull him down into a kiss.

Rhys groaned into his mouth, drowning in the sweet heat that welcomed him with delight and an answering need. He tried to pull back when his tongue slid over a rough patch on his lips, but Luka murmured and held him in place, tangling their tongues further. Frantic now, Rhys worked the buttons on Luka’s pants, shoving his hand inside when they loosened.

Luka growled low in his throat, urging him on, and he wrapped his fingers around the hot, thick member waiting for him. A groan broke from Luka, and he laid his head on Rhys’s shoulder, his face flushed, lips parting on desperate pants. Rhys ran his tongue up the column of his neck, tasting sweat and salt and warm skin. He craved Luka’s cock in his mouth to suck and lick until they were both shaking with the pleasure of it. But Luka collapsed against him, hips bucking as he thrust frantically into Rhys’s fist.

Rhys nipped the tender skin under his ear and Luka arched his back, coming close to unseating them as he came with a strangled cry. Rhys held him as he shook, then released him straight away and pulled the horse to a stop. He slid from the stallion’s back, taking an unresisting Luka with him. Luka staggered and Rhys went with him, pushing him up against the trunk of a nearby tree, thrusting a knee between his thighs as he captured his delicious mouth again.

He drew back, heart thumping madly. “I’m sorry. I—”

“No.” Luka fisted his cloak with both hands, a wild, feverish look on his face. “I’m cold and achy inside. I need you to love me, Rhys. Fuck me hard. Please. Help me… Remind me I’m alive.”

Rhys groaned; his cock painfully hard, unable to stop himself from turning Luka to face the tree. After stripping off Luka’s pack and his own, he planted a hand on either side of Luka’s head, then took a moment to calm his breathing, cool the madness racing through him. He wouldn’t hurt him, not this sweet man, anguished and lost. He tugged down Luka’s pants, nudged his legs apart, then knelt behind him. Luka sighed in surrender, crossing his arms on the oak tree and resting his forehead against them.

Hands shaking, Rhys cupped Luka’s ass and opened him, breath catching, his own white skin a stark contrast to Luka’s beautiful rich brown flesh. He pressed his face close, inhaling Luka’s musk, and ran the tip of his tongue along the lighter crease, over his opening. Luka shuddered, a soft moan escaping him, and Rhys’s chest swelled, love and desire swirling in his head.

He moved lower to take his tender sack in his mouth, sucked gently until Luka trembled in his hands, moaning raggedly. Unable to maintain control any longer, Rhys stood, planting kisses on Luka’s neck as he undid his own pants. Spitting on his hand, he stroked himself a couple of times, then opened Luka again and eased into him, massaging Luka’s balls until he could slip deep inside.

They groaned together, an erotic sound in the stillness, and Rhys paused, Luka hot and tight around him, hard again in his hand. A single, exquisite moment in time, poised on the edge of bliss. And then Luka shoved back against him, startling him into motion. Their lovemaking was usually a slow build to completion, pleasure mounting with each touch and taste and stroke. But Luka had a wildness to him this time, pushing to meet Rhys’s thrusts, shoving into Rhys’s hand.

Then Luka raised his arms to twine their fingers together against the tree. Rhys gasped, jolted as Luka’s pleasure in their coupling rolled through him, confusing and fierce, intense, his own pleasure building feverishly, hurdling him toward orgasm. Luka convulsed, arching back into Rhys as he came with Rhys’s name on his lips. Overwhelmed, experiencing Luka’s ecstasy on top of his own, Rhys shouted as he came hard, buried inside his lover.

He floated for a moment, then remembered to breathe, and became aware of shaky legs and Luka trembling against him. He eased out gradually, already missing Luka’s glorious heat around him. He tucked himself away while Luka did the same, then pulled him back in his arms, turning him to see his face.

Luka gave him a tentative smile, dark brown eyes shining. Recalling Luka’s delight in him, Rhys’s chest tightened, and he dipped his head, tenderly kissing him. “I love you, my sweet witch,” he whispered, and deepened their kiss, pouring all his affection into it. Luka murmured approval, but he still trembled, betraying his exhaustion.

Rhys pulled reluctantly away and picked up their packs. “Shall we find a safe place to sleep tonight?” he asked and hated that their moment had passed and sadness returned to Luka’s eyes. The stallion stood grazing a short distance away and came when Rhys called.