Crossbones

CASPIAN

T hat’s the last of them.”

Carter stands beside me on the beach just above the tide.

I can hear the ocean waves at my back, hissing as they race up the sand.

Reaching—always reaching—attempting to drag me back into their depths.

I tune it out and nod at his words, satisfaction and relief drifting through me.

Another successful delivery of people who deserve better than the shit their kingdom put them through.

A kingdom that’s supposed to protect its people—not make them refugees.

Most were forced into servitude—the rest left with nothing but ruin.

I was like them once—a child in chains, abandoned by the kingdom who was supposed to protect me.

In more ways than one seeing as it’s my father who wears the crown.

My unfortunate circumstances didn’t arise in the same manner as these refugees but their plight is a continuous reminder of the horrors that exist in this world and in my nightmares.

“Wanna grab a drink?” Carter asks, pulling me back to the present.

He’s looking at me with those gold eyes of his that always make my breath catch—they are even more beguiling in the torchlight coming from the nearby town.

He pushes a hand through his blond hair and gives me a half cocked smile at my attention.

Carter is one of those men who looks like he comes straight from the home of the gods—so perfect they must have accidentally left him here on earth because no human should look this good.

While he’s a good time, and trust me, we’ve had many—sometimes his perfection irritates me.

Sometimes during sex all I want is to see him ruined.

I want to see what’s under that perfect facade.

Except I know what’s underneath—more perfection. It’s downright annoying.

But if there is one thing I need right now, it’s a distraction. Something to help me forget—at least for a little while—how fucked my life is and to put aside the fact that I’m the spare prince of a kingdom I hate and son to a father I loathe—rebelling in the only way I know how.

I throw an arm around Carter. “Yeah, let’s go get a drink, mate.”

We walk up the shore to Foxhollow glowing gently like a beacon in the night.

It’s a town I’ve helped bring to life with my own hands.

Seeing it flourish over the years is unlike anything else—I liken it to what it must feel like to have a child and watch them grow and prosper.

Not that I have any children to compare the feeling to, but the pride I feel as we walk down the main street fills me up and helps keep the shadows and guilt at bay.

Shadows of all the people I couldn’t save and the guilt that I’m somehow complicit in the horrors because I share the same blood as a monster.

Carter pushes open the door to the Fox the rogue man of mystery who’s larger than life to people who find themselves on the brink of hopelessness.

A name whispered in the same breath people use to speak of salvation.

If I’m being honest, I don’t think I enjoy being either of them—both cause me to have to pretend and both were created from circumstance—not from who I see myself to be.

And that in itself is another question—the ominous, who am I?

question. One I’m entirely uninterested in exploring because that would require going into my head, which is a dangerous place to wander these days.

In the end, Fox is a persona. Another mask to hide behind.

Just in case dear old dad catches wind of what I’m doing.

Or worse, my brother—but those are all problems I’m not going to think about right now.

I shove it all down and thrust my face into my ale, drinking deeply.

I have to admit, Old Man Halloway is good at brewing the stuff.

I catch his eye across the bar top and raise my glass to him.

He winks but the man may as well be stone for how elusive his smile is.

I’d found him caught under a roof that had fallen in—bleeding out, half dead already.

Every time I come in here he tries to give me free drinks, which I refuse, so I started sneaking into the back and leaving bags of coin on his kegs.

I take another drink, damn my brain. It’s hard to turn off the memories when looking at each of these faces simply reminds me of how I’d found them.

Carter slides a shot of amber liquid over the sticky counter and holds an identical glass up towards me. I pick it up and my lips twitch as the ale does its work to calm me.

“Cheers, Cas,” he says. “We take the wins, remember?”

We clink glasses, and I throw back the drink, letting the fumes burn me. I slam the glass down and sling an arm around Carter as Old Man Halloway immediately fills both glasses with another shot. The edge of exhaustion I was teetering on earlier is beginning to get crowded out by the alcohol.

“That we do, my friend!” I say in his ear. I pick up my glass and raise it in salute to Old Man Halloway. “To the finest establishment in all of Adrasea.” The man shakes his head and simply sets the bottle down in front of us before walking away.

I nudge Carter. “I think I almost got a smile this time.”

Many, many shots later and after trying, and failing, to get a smile out of Old Man Halloway, Carter and I spill out into the night, cackling at nothing.

The good news is, my exhaustion is gone.

Bad news—I’m drunk. My mind had been so loud I’d tried to drown it in alcohol and when that didn’t succeed I’d joined in when the patrons of the tavern roused the entire place into singing multiple shanties.

It left me with no voice but it certainly was distracting.

Carter is talking but my ears are still ringing and when he bumps into me, all I can focus on is his mouth and the sudden urge to kiss him.

He laughs. “Did you hear me, Cas?”

“Not a word.” I enunciate carefully as I drag him into the shadows behind the tavern. “But I have something else in mind for that mouth.”

I only make it a few steps before his lips crash into mine and we careen drunkenly into a nearby wall.

The kiss is sloppy, full of teeth and tongue while we laugh quietly into each other’s mouths anytime one of us fumbles.

He tastes like rum and salt, intoxicating in my drunken haze.

I can feel his hands messing with my pants.

I twist my fingers into his blond hair and shove him to his knees.

Leaning back against the wall, I play with his silky strands while he pulls out my dick.

Rough hands stroke me from base to tip before I drag his mouth to me.

“Don’t be a tease.” My voice is a growl, low and raspy.

He chuckles, those gold eyes looking up at me with that bratty look that both drives me crazy and makes me hard.

He braces his hands on my thighs but it doesn’t stop me from shoving my cock down his throat.

My eyes fall half-closed as he swallows around my head and I bite back a groan.

I let him suck in a breath before pulling him close again and set a punishing pace.

I throw back my head and close my eyes, sinking into the sensations.

Men are so different from women and sometimes I’m in the mood for this: hard planes and rough hands—while other times I want plentiful curves and soft skin.

I don’t think one is better than the other, I just like to keep my options open.

My breathing grows ragged as I approach the edge.

I will readily admit Carter knows what he’s doing on his knees.

I look down to see him stroking his own cock.

He’s deep in his own pleasure as he sucks the fuck out of me, his other hand toying with my balls.

But it’s his fingers sliding back to circle my ass that has me coming down his throat, gasping a curse.