Relieved that Morgan Rivers chose that moment to appear at the booth in front of them with sizzling steaks on this tray, Silk released Tristan’s cock beneath the table. “Charred and wrapped in barbecued bacon, just as you requested,” said Morgan as he slid their plates in front of them.
Carefully tucking his now-softened cock into his slacks, Tristan eyed the charbroiled steak and the baked potato covered in cream cheese and green chives. He wanted to dig right in, but he also needed to know if the four men had actually been the ones sent to find him. Popping one last mushroom in his mouth, he risked a glance at the front entryway. The men were now impatiently waiting to be seated.
“Father,” Silk whispered, “seat them in the front alcove. And be swift as a kestrel to quietly tell Rian that they are on the premises.”
“Robin,” Morgan said, focusing on the lone, dark-haired Blackthorn seated across the room on the raised platform, “he’s well aware they’re here. If you’d noticed, he’s removed his blade from where it was leaning against the wall near the hearth. Fear not, son. He’s prepared if trouble should arise.”
Morgan moved off through the crowded room, and Silk watched him with worry in his eyes. “Trouble?” asked Tristan as he picked up his knife and fork.
Silk shrugged. “Been a world of trouble ever since Lord Preston hired the whole bloody lot of Tavosh clansmen from the south of Delvaria. More than a hundred in this company! Two of the brutes got themselves into a squabble down at Dark Mouth Plaza over a whore. After they were found floating in the Anson River, the whole lot of them burned down Old Burra’s House of Pleasure.”
Savoring a bite of his steak, Tristan noted the four Tavosh mercs seemed to be smiling like hungry wolves as Morgan took their orders. None of the men so much as glanced toward the booth where they sat, which was a good sign.
He was certain now these men had not been sent to find him. If these were the hunters determined to take his life before he escaped the city of Brystyn, their eyes did not betray them. No, they seemed to be there only for a meal.
Silk said, “I think it wise that you seek sanctuary, Tristan.”
Tristan looked at his raven-haired lover. Before he could respond, Silk offered him a warm smile. “Father has connections with the Brotherhood of the Rose Chapel. Allow me to take you by the swiftest route to that safe haven.”
Forcing himself to chew slowly, Tristan appraised Silk, feeling sincerity in his intense stare. He swallowed. “Why do you think I might be seeking sanctuary?” he asked.
When Silk’s eyes shifted ever so slightly, skimming like a skipped rock across the surface of a clear pond, Tristan’s heart thudded in his chest. My boy Silk, he thought, is reading my body language as if he were reading a book.
Silk gave Tristan a knowing wink. “I know why you are here in Brystyn. I also know why you must also seek protection. Father has received three separate visits by those inquiring about you. Making it to the city gates and beyond would not be an easy task. You’d have as much luck as a mouse scampering through the den of a ravenous mink!”
Tristan replied, “I assure you, Silk, I am not a mouse! And any ravenous mink wanting to stop me would find itself hard-pressed to do so!”
Silk frowned. “I admire your tenacity. But this has turned more serious than you realize. By contracting for your hire, you’ve made some very dangerous enemies. They will not want you leaving here alive. Please come with me to the safe haven, Tristan.”
Tristan offered him a mocking smile. “I am merely a courier for a book collector from lower Delvaria. I am in no need of this sanctuary you offer.”
Silk asked, “Since when have books become so valuable that they need a well-armed courier to transport them? Though I know you are very capable, you are far out of your league, my love.”
Sipping gingerly at his cold and sparkling blackberry wine, Tristan kept his eyes focused on the food on the table before him.
“This is very good, Silk,” he said, opening his eyes and taking a quick glance around the room. “I thank you for your concern, but there is really no need to—”
His words froze as he noted the sudden widening of Silk’s eyes. He stared straight ahead toward the front entryway and cursed softly under his breath. Slowly sipping from his frosty tankard, Tristan continued to study Silk’s troubled features and heard him mutter, “The mink has come calling!”
Tristan heard the voices in the common room drop to a low murmur as patrons of the Owl became aware of the new arrival moving across the crowded common room. The laughter, boisterous conversations, and incessant chattering dwindled to a trickle as heads turned and eyes narrowed as the mud-splattered Sir Robar shot Tristan a triumphant smirk.
Robar glided up to the booth. “Tristan Storm, best come with me. I will play with you ever so tenderly for a while, then turn you over to my father’s mercs.”
Sir Robar cocked an eye at Silk seated there next to Tristan. “I can’t tell you,” he softly growled, “how much I am going to enjoy raping you for your betrayal, Silk. And a dozen mercenaries in my father’s hire will take their turns.”
He raised one hand in the air, made a fist, and pumped the air repeatedly.
“Ouch!” he said, laughing loudly.
*
Rian Blackthorn casually glanced up at Sir Robar confronting Tristan Storm at the booth, curious as to what was taking place between the lordling and the mercenary. However, as he deftly sent another chip of wood flying from the tiny falcon he was carving, Rian made a firm decision. Whatever tapestry Fate is weaving on this rainy night, he thought, it is none of my concern.
He slowly removed the leather-bound journal from the depths of his leather case. Since his meeting with Robar, Rian had become quite paranoid about his mysterious appointment as guardian of Corin’s writings. He knew if those who plotted Corin’s death had possession of the writings, they could further justify their cause. With this sort of evidence against the young prince, they wouldn’t need to plot his death in secrecy. Bringing this book to the attention of the king and his priests, they could simply demand public execution.
Illuminated by the blaze in the hearth behind him, the flowing script drew him as he began to read:
It had been an extremely hot summer day. Both of us were sweaty and reeking from a long, hard session with practice swords. As we descended into the pool chambers beneath the old keep, Silk playfully pinched and prodded me all the way down the stairs. At the edge of one of the steaming pools, Silk eagerly looked down into the spring-fed waters and quietly asked, “Would you like for me to wash your hair, my lord?”
Silk then reached up and grasped both sides of my head. Gently, he planted his lips on mine. Even more gently, he kissed my forehead and both of my cheeks, and once more kissed my lips. He then led me down the steps to one of the shallow pools.
After pouring an entire jar of sweet-smelling mint balm shampoo onto my head, Silk proceeded to wash my hair. By the time he’d finished, I was so relaxed that all I could do was close my eyes and allow him to continue his pleasing touches to my scalp, my neck, and finally my shoulders.
When Silk stopped his gentle strokes down my spine, I was covered in gooseflesh. Silently, he pointed to a padded bench in a shadowy alcove some distance from the pools.
Once inside the alcove, I assumed a prone position, lying facedown on the bench. Silk moved in behind me, spreading a sweet-smelling salve of cinnamon and cloves all over my back and shoulders. I could only lie there, quietly sighing as he worked out every kink in my muscles. He worked his magic, using first his fingertips, then his palms to push and prod and burrow lightly into my flesh. It felt so wonderful that I found myself drifting off to sleep.
When Silk stopped, he grasped me by both shoulders and spun me around, lightly pulling me up to a sitting position on the bench. As he kneeled before me, he smiled up at me as he began to work his hard cock into the center of my butt crack. I lifted my hips to give him access to my slowly loosening hole. He gave a quick little shove, poking his pre-cum-polished head inside me. I grunted once, then lay back, sprawling onto my back, my legs spread wide as he slowly snaked his eight inches of rock-hard manhood deep into my bowels. Once he was all the way in, Silk began to lose control, sighing and moaning above me, then finally bringing his head down to lap at my nipples.
He withdrew his cock to within an inch of coming out of me, then drove deep and fast. I gasped. He gasped. We both began to whisper sweet nothings as he started jack-fucking me like a horny rabbit. I looked down over his arching back to see the two perfect globes of his ass rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He glanced up at me, to see if he was hurting me, but when I mouthed, “Fuck me silly!” he renewed his effort, bucking up on me and sliding his dick in and out. He could not help himself then as the drive took over.
He planted his hands on my shoulders, pulled me down onto his stake, and humped me madly, breathing through his mouth and nose both, making little mewling sounds as the pleasure overtook him. I flopped around like a rag doll, grasping his head, his shoulders, and finally wrapping my arms around him, hugging him close as I began to cum.
We came simultaneously, his cock spurting spunk deep inside me, six, seven, maybe eight times. He cried out at the end, going mad with thrusts and humps and a few last pumps. I threw my legs wide, embraced him even tighter around his upper body, and felt my sperm bursting up between us, splashing its warm juices all over our stomachs.
When he was done, Silk collapsed on top of me, the sharp, pungent odor of freshly churned sperm wafting up from between us. I collapsed beneath him as I felt his drool running down my left shoulder. When he pulled free, he said, “Corey, since you and I came together, I’ve never felt so loved as I have with you by my side. I don’t want these days to end, but I know they must. I will go, as you asked me to. But I am afraid for you. How do you know Rian will be so easily swayed? He may break your heart, Corey. I’ll be far away by then with my merc boy, and who will comfort you?”
I felt a stab of pain at his words. Rian Blackthorn had been at the center of my thoughts ever since I first met him in the Hall of Swords two years ago. I loved him at first sight. Each time I met with him for practice sessions, my feelings for him grew stronger. Though he did nothing to show me any more attention than he did my war band of Falcons, I could see in his eyes that he cared about me. Rian has such kind eyes. His eyes once met mine, and I saw such a depth of feeling in them that I was forever trying to get him to meet my gaze just to be swallowed by his look when he spoke to me.
Love is so strange. I cannot see it, touch it, taste it, for it is like an unseen force that takes control of my emotions. Whether he loves me back or not, my love for Rian connects me to him with powerful, yet invisible threads.
I go to sleep at night thinking about him. I awake each morning, and Rian’s face comes to mind at once. And then the painful ache creeps into my heart. I have fallen so deeply in love with him that I could not bear to be without him. I imagine over and over that I am holding him in my arms, kissing his face, whispering to him, and sharing with him all of my hidden and secret desires. And oh, it hurt so badly when I came out of such daydreams, to find that in reality Rian might have been offended had he known of my obsession.
But then, there was the slight hope that Rian Blackthorn might be just as lonely as I. That he might, to my utter amazement and delight, feel the same about me. I’ve appreciated Silk and his friendship, but I’ve always known that it was simply a relationship for the time being. Perhaps even a time of learning how to please another in certain, special ways so that when I finally am allowed into Rian’s embrace, I can be experienced in such things. Never so with Silk, for I know he and I were only meant to be friends. Not true lovers.
I must wait. There will come a time when I can express my thoughts and feelings, and let Rian know that I love him above all others.
I will be his.
He will be mine.
It will come to pass.
This I must believe.
But how can I make him love me?