Chapter 12
12
Marcelis
We made it back to the discharge area of the culvert down by the settlement’s catchment without being recognized, but I’d watched where I was going and kept my head down until we squeezed inside. Toorin had walked in front of me so that the man at the market wouldn’t think I’d come back to steal his fruit, though at this point, with the way my stomach rumbled and twisted on itself, I might have risked it for one bite to fill my belly.
From my room in the tower, I’d always had a morbid curiosity about the people living on the fringe. As someone who’d lived under the strict rules of my sire, I had romanticized the lawlessness of the fringe as getting to do whatever you wanted. Something that seemed enticing to me when I rarely got to do anything that wasn’t at the direct edict of my sire.
But I didn’t think about where people on the fringe got their food. Or their clothes. Or where they bathed or slept. I was hungry, dirty, sleep deprived, and I had things much better on the Lark than the people in the ramshackle shacks on the fringe did.
Someone should do something about that.
Except that someone should have been my sire.
Under his rule, nothing would ever change. At least not for the better.
Beyond the bars of the culvert, I still heard the commotion.
“Stay here,” Toorin said, “I’ll see what’s going on.”
I hooked his arm before he could turn to leave. “Be careful.”
“Always.”
He held my gaze for a moment or two. Enough to make it difficult to swallow before he dropped his small pack on the ground, and I did the same. I rubbed at my shoulder where the camel leather straps had dug in. My mouth was as dry as I imagined the badlands would be, but I didn’t reach into my pack for my waterskin in case we needed to make a run for it.
It took Toorin way too long to return. I’d about decided to go looking for him when he ducked into the protected area between the boulder and the culvert.
I blew out a breath, slapping a hand over my heart. “Moon and mars. I thought you’d been captured.”
Toorin grinned and lowered his voice to an intimate, rolling timber that vibrated through my chest and up the culvert. “You worried about me?”
“I—No—I mean yes, but—”
Spit it out, Toft.
I abandoned what I’d been trying to say. That I did worry about him. Probably in ways that I shouldn’t. “What’s going on out there?”
“Chaos.” Toorin squeezed through the bars and sat beside his pack. “The drovers are trying to round up the stragglers, but the animals aren’t cooperating. And I’ve never seen so many chancellor guards. Not even when they were raiding the fringe looking for contraband. Plus, they’re trying to catch everyone that snuck in and send them out the gate, but they’re no more cooperative than the camels.”
“In other words, we’re fucked.”
“For the time being. We’ll have a much better chance of getting past the gate guards if we wait and cross in the wee hours before dawn.”
I settled beside him, and a small shiver went through me as air blew down the culvert from above. With day approaching late afternoon, there was a coolness in the air.
As much as I’d like to get back to the relative safety of the Lark, it wasn’t worth risking getting caught by the chancellor guard. Unlike the others, the guard wouldn’t throw me out of the gates. They’d bring me before my sire. I had no clue what they’d do if they caught Toorin with me, but I wasn’t willing to find out.
Toorin opened his pack and pulled out two packages of food. My mouth watered at the dried fish and hardtack inside. He set them on the ground between us. “You have the waterskins?”
“Oh, yeah, sorry.” I dug into my pack and pulled out the first of two waterskins. I handed it to him, but he shook his head.
“You first.”
After so many years of being deferred to, I didn’t need—or want —deference. I wanted people to treat me like everyone else. Despite what my sire wanted everyone to believe, being his spawn didn’t make me special. I continued holding it out, our eyes meeting and holding long enough that it should have been uncomfortable, but it wasn’t.
Finally, Toorin took the waterskin. He took large, gulping swallows. Trickles of water spilled over the sides of his mouth and ran down his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. My mouth grew drier.
I wanted to kiss away the trickle of water and follow it to where it disappeared beneath his shirt. But we weren’t here for that.
He finished drinking and handed me the waterskin. I shook the intrusive thoughts out of my head and took my first sip of the warm, watered-down mead, but I was so thirsty I’d drink camel piss if I had to. When I had my fill, I offered it back to Toorin, but he waved it off. I replaced the stopper and set it between us.
Besides the dried fish and hardtack, Toorin found wrapped camel cheese at the bottom of his pack. The acrid scent hit first, but once you got past that, the flavor didn’t overpower my tastebuds.
I leaned against the curve of the culvert, my back conforming to the shape as the heels of my boots landed in the thin stream of water running down. I washed down the excessive salt from the fish with more mead. “Did you want more before I put it away?”
“Aye.” Toorin drank, but not as voraciously as before. We probably had more than enough mead to last us until we escaped in the morning, but better to conserve some in case we were stuck longer.
We cleaned up our mess as best we could, not wanting to attract the rats. They grew large in the post-war era. People theorized that some had managed to return to civilization from exclusion zones and breed with local populations. All I knew was that we didn’t have a stick with us strong enough or thick enough to fight a bunch of them off.
With our hunger and thirst sated, we settled in and waited for nightfall. The occasional howl of the chancellor guard beating someone intermittently interrupted the peaceful chirp of insects.
“You okay?” Toorin asked.
The question came out of nowhere. I was safe. Relatively warm. Fed. Watered. And besides the obvious things like hiding from the guard and needing to find a way to return a heart that didn’t belong to me, I was maybe better than I’d been in a long time.
Maybe ever.
At least out here, people didn’t treat me with unearned deference or thinly veiled contempt. “Are you ?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
I shifted, turning to face him. “Besides the obvious?” I hitched my thumb toward his chest.
He shrugged. “I’ve been worse.”
As darkness continued falling, it cast much of Toorin’s face in shadows. Maybe that gave me the courage to ask what I’d been dying to. “Can I feel it?”
He blinked at me a few times before raising the front of his shirt. The bumps and ridges of his scar line caught the scant light filtering in. I reached over, my finger starting at the top and slowly sliding down each bump, each pucker, each needless dog ear. In contrast, my scar had healed nearly flat, nearly perfect.
Whoever had sewed him up didn’t care what it looked like and probably didn’t care if Toorin had lived or died. Honestly, I’m shocked they hadn’t left him and Bodie for dead. From what I knew about the reapers, that’s all too frequently what happened.
Toorin’s head fell back against the culvert with a dull thump, and he blew out a breath. I placed my ear to the center of his chest where my palm had been earlier in the day.
I held my breath. The whir in his chest had this almost soothing swooshing sound only occasionally interrupted with a disturbing click, or knock, or… I didn’t know how to describe it, but it alarmed me. Is that what happened those times when his heart stopped? Something clicks instead of clacks, and then everything stops?
I continued to listen, realizing I’d never had my head on anyone’s chest before. And I’d never heard a heartbeat besides my own. “Do you feel it? When it makes those clicks?”
I heard his Mmmhmm more through the vibration in his chest than the sound in my ears.
“It’s…” I didn’t quite know how to express the way that made me feel.
“It’s…” Toorin started, then stopped as if he had trouble describing it as well. “Disturbing,” he finally settled on.
I sat up.
He had a resigned smile as if my quiet devastation registered. “But only at times like this, when I’m still, and it’s quiet.” I didn’t think he’d finished, so I waited him out. “The nights, with only the slap of the waves beneath the Lark to keep me company… they’re the hardest.”
I couldn’t look him in the eye anymore. But when I looked away, he caught my jaw and gently turned my face back to his.
“I’m so—”
“Don’t,” he said. “Don’t apologize for something out of your control. We’re both victims here.”
“If you say so,” I said, unsure if I could have been as magnanimous if the situation had been reversed. Of course, that didn’t mean he didn’t want his heart back. I didn’t—and couldn’t —blame him for that. I would, too, if something precious and vital had been stolen from me.
My eyes fell to his lips, and I don’t know if they did that to avoid eye contact or if I wanted to kiss him. I swallowed, but I might as well have been swallowing Juniper’s blade as cutting and difficult as it was. I felt the strain afterward.
And my dick?
Well… luckily, Toorin’s trousers fit me with room to spare. So, yeah, I guess the answer was yes, I wanted to kiss him. But wanting and doing were two entirely different things. I’d lived most of my life in that same state, either physically unable to do something I wanted because of my weak heart or unable to do it because of my sire’s demands and control.
But… even though things were different in more ways than I’d ever dreamed, I couldn’t bring myself to bridge that minuscule gap between his lips and mine.
I leaned away, and Toorin raised on an elbow, twisting toward me. “Can… can I listen?”
I stilled.
I hadn’t thought to ask if he’d want to hear his heart. That sharpness in my throat returned. Outside, it had grown quieter, the shouts more sporadic, making the world outside easier to ignore. I pulled off my shirt and leaned back to give him better access.
He’d seen my scar back on the Lark, but this felt different. His expression softened as he scanned my chest up and down. It looked better now than a week before, and I didn’t doubt it would nearly be invisible after fully healing, whereas Toorin would carry the ragged scar for the rest of his life.
I braced for the impact of his touch, prepared for the same jolt it had given me on the Lark, but he didn’t reach out to place his fingertip on it.
His eyes met mine. “It’s… pretty.” I heard the like you in my head, words he never spoke, but I drank them in as if he had.
He shifted, bracing one hand beside my hip and the other on the other side of me. His ear touched my chest. We were both awkward, holding our breath. In a way, I’d prepared for his anger, prepared to see a glimpse of the man who’d once stood toe to toe with me, telling me I had something that belonged to him.
Would he lash out?
Would I bother to protect myself?
I think not.
But instead of lashing out, his warm breath escaped in an overwhelming rush as he melted into me. He wasn’t holding me, but his arms trapped me. He was silent for the longest time, and I didn’t do anything to disturb him.
I released my breath and relaxed into the culvert, getting as comfortable as possible, prepared to stay as long as he needed.
Then Toorin’s body started to shake. He was quiet. Not so much as a sniffle. But I knew what he was doing. Before I could think better of it, my arms wrapped around him, and I held him tight, one hand cradling his head to my chest. His arms gave way, and I took nearly all his weight, attempting to comfort him.
Eventually, his body stopped shaking, and I eased a little further down the side of the culvert, the boots on my outstretched legs in the water, but I hardly noticed as the wetness soaked through to my skin.
My fingers scritched in his hair. He didn’t stop me, so I continued. I think it soothed both of us. At one point, he shifted as if he was going to move away, but I tightened my hold, and he settled in again without complaint.
His arms went around me, loosely, but enough that I thought it counted. I can’t remember the last time someone held me or touched me when it wasn’t out of necessity.
Or some completely transactional midnight assignation.
I’m not sure my sire knew how to hug.
Toorin
At some point, we both dozed off, cocooned in our little world, tucked away and safe, Marc’s heart beating steadily beneath my ear. Between the warmth of his body and the comforting sounds of his heart, for that brief moment, I was at peace.
I shouldn’t find solace in his arms, in his touch, in his fingers tracing small circles in my hair. But I did.
The scuffling of feet woke me, but Marc pulled me closer, balling our bodies tighter together. Someone squeezed through the bars, not sparing us a glance as they sprinted up the culvert. I stiffened, expecting one of the chancellor guard to be behind them, but no one came.
Marc’s grip loosened, and I felt obligated to pull away, even though that was the last thing I wanted to do. I’m not sure why, but if I could have stayed like that the rest of the night, I would have.
I sat up, averting my gaze, not wanting to see the pity in Marc’s eyes after he’d helped me through that spell of weakness. But I needed to say something. “Sorry, I—”
“What did we say about apologies?”
I glanced up, and instead of pity, I saw compassion. It looked good on him. Sexy. I didn’t know how it was possible, but all I wanted to do was kiss those lips. I hesitated. It wasn’t like I hadn’t kissed a man before, but this felt different. I was different.
This felt… sweeter. More intimate than some of the acts I’d done in places I’d rather not think about.
I didn’t ask, but as I leaned closer, our lips a breath apart, he didn’t push me away.
Then he closed the distance, his lips brushing mine, a savoring, scorching touch, unlike the hurried and hungry kisses I’d had in the past that left me feeling… nothing.
My heart whirred from the contact faster than it had when we’d sprinted up the culvert.
Mmmmm. The deep, rich, near growl emanating from the back of Marc’s throat nearly did me in. I pulled back on my mental reins. I wanted to keep the kiss soft and exploring.
I tilted my head, biting his lower lip and raking my tongue across it. He tasted of the weak mead that we’d shared and a potency all his own. His hand went to the back of my head, and I shivered. A shiver that settled in my bones in the shape of this man.
Finally, we broke apart. His eyes remained closed as if he were reliving the contact. I’d done that. We’d done that. We’d created something I didn’t think either one of us had been prepared for.
It seemed immensely fragile and infinitely strong at the same time. Like a bond had been forged of the strongest, ballistic steel.
It almost seemed wrong to speak and break the spell between us, but we needed to return to the Lark. We had a mission and couldn’t accomplish it kissing in the culvert.
I stood. “I’m going to see if it’s safe to leave.”
I saw the vague movement. I assumed it was a nod. I stretched the aches out of my muscles from being curled up in the culvert for so long. It was quiet as I slipped through the bars and crouched to peek around the boulder. In the building moonlight, I didn’t see any camels trying to escape capture. I didn’t hear any footsteps slapping the ground or the thud of the broadside of a blade hitting flesh.
The settlement was as quiet as it would ever be.
I returned to the culvert. “Let’s go.”
Marc was already standing, one of the packs on his back and the other he held out to me. I took it and pulled it through the bars. My throat was dry, but I could wait until we returned to the Lark to drink.
Marc squeezed through and stepped in front of me to take the lead. I’d been to the settlement numerous times to trade chips and scrap for credits, but I didn’t know my way around the settlement the way Marc did.
He took my hand as we rounded the boulder, sticking to the shadows as we worked through the settlement. I told myself that his grip was to keep us together so we wouldn’t lose each other in the darkness. But it wasn’t that dark. And Marc hadn’t perfected moving with stealth. I could have tracked him by his footfalls alone, but I didn’t let go of his hand.
We passed a few people and only one chancellor guard too far away to see us in the shadows. We stopped fifty yards from the gate and crouched to watch. No one came in or out, which wasn’t unexpected considering the time and what had happened earlier in the day.
We crept closer and closer. Two guards came out of the guardhouse where usually there was one. We got as close as we could and still remain behind cover, but there would come a point where we’d have to make a run for it. I didn’t trust that we could walk through the gate into the fringe and not be stopped or have a guard recognize Marc, especially since the chancellor had the guard looking for him. They’d be scrutinizing everyone closely.
We braced our hands on the cool ground. I eased closer to Marc and kept my voice low. “We could run for it and hope they’ve had enough of chasing people for the day.”
I heard rustling in the trash pile behind the guardhouse built up over the years from the guards throwing anything and everything behind them once they’d finished with it. I ignored the noise. There were always animals or desperate people scavenging for scraps.
“I don’t see where we have a choice,” Marc said.
The guards spread out on either side of the road, walking away from the gate. They each had a longbow across their chest. They usually didn’t patrol far before turning back again. “They’re far enough away that we can beat them to the gate.”
“I’m not sure we can beat the arrows, though.”
“Let’s hope they’ve got bad aim,” I said.
“Agreed.” The rustling in the trash pile grew loud enough to catch the guards’ attention.
This was our chance. “Go!”