Chapter 12 Successful distraction
Successful distraction.
“Alastair the First killed his first man when he was only eight years old. There was an attempted coup at the Traveling Market, and a group of rebellious merchants wanted to claim the RWE Baggers for themselves. They detonated explosives and two of the Market founders were injured during the explosion. Back in those days, the mutants were only children, and their reputation hadn’t grown into the beast it is now.
The attackers stormed the throne room, expecting to find no resistance, but faced an angry eight-year-old demigod.
It is said he fell on them with manic rage, unpredictable and unhinged, and inflicted damage to all of them.
One bled out to death in minutes from a deep wound to an artery.
The coup failed miserably, and the surviving merchants were put to death the next day.
From then on, Alastair became the Traveling Market’s executioner: the one the founders sent to deal with their enemies.
Nowadays, Alastair doesn’t get his hands dirty as often, but people would be wrong to forget what he’s capable of. ”
STELLAN
I made a dangerous mistake, one that might very well cost me my life: I got distracted.
I was checking out the quiet caravan and noticed that the lock on the door was broken.
It gave out just as a woman screamed in the building behind me, where Alastair had just disappeared.
My head snapped up, and the sudden urge to go help him overtook me.
That’s when the man who’d been hiding in the caravan jumped at me from the open door with a knife.
I raised my gun, but the shot missed his head by an inch.
The man lunged at me, tackling me to the ground.
Now I’m in the dirt, grappling with a fetid middle-aged survivor who is definitely not Johnny.
I let go of my gun during the fall to block the knife aiming for my gut, and I don’t know where it fell.
The impact knocked the air out of my lungs, and I’m still reeling.
The man uses the distraction to try to stab me in the throat, but I dodge just in time and he buries the blade in my shoulder instead.
I grit my teeth, annoyed but barely registering the pain, and headbutt him with all my strength, properly destroying his nose.
A torrent of blood gushes from his face and onto my neck and chest.
I tear the knife from my shoulder and I’m about to finish him when Alastair appears behind him, fury etched on his usually smooth features.
He places both of his large hands on the man’s face and twists.
There is so much force behind the action, the survivor’s body follows the momentum, but not enough to save his neck from breaking.
There’s an audible crack, and he goes limp.
Alastair pulls him off me and throws him unceremoniously in the dirt.
“Stellan,” he says, voice deep and dangerously calm. His hands are already on me, wiping the man’s blood from my chin and neck, and tearing at my clothes to check for wounds.
“I’m fine,” I say, grabbing his wrists. “He just nicked me in the shoulder. All this blood isn’t mine.”
Alastair sighs, and his hand lands on my right cheek. “Are you sure?”
His sudden gentleness disarms me. “I’m—I’m sure.”
Before I realize what’s happening, he has gathered me into his arms and pulls me to my feet as if I weigh nothing more than a sack of grain. I’m a big man, and no one has ever manhandled me like this. It’s… strange.
“Thank you,” I mumble, pulling away from his embrace. Then I wince from the pain in my shoulder finally making itself known.
Alastair’s pale eyes narrow. “He did more than just nick you. Let me look at it.”
“Later. It’s fine for now; it’s not bleeding much. Let’s figure out what happened to Anna and Johnny, and we can be on our way and find a spot to spend the night. Then, I’ll wash and stitch it.”
He’s usually the one giving orders, and I can see him hesitate to push the issue, but he seems to think better of it. I can be stubborn, too.
“Stay here,” he says. “I left the woman alive. I’ll be right back.”
I grab my gun from the ground and lean on the truck while he disappears into the building once again. Seconds later, I hear screams. When the silence comes back, it’s deafening.
“They attacked Johnny and Anna on the road three days ago,” Alastair says when he returns. “They killed them.” A muscle in his jaw flexes. “Let me check the caravan for anything we can take, and we’ll be on our way.”
I sit in the truck and send a message through the radio that the caravan is up for the taking. Nothing goes to waste in the world after the Rise. In the matter of hours, the closest traveling merchants will be here to scavenge it.
My shoulder is on fire, and I can feel my blood seeping through my clothes.
Minutes later, Alastair comes back with a bag full of food and a plastic water tank over his shoulder. “You’ll be able to wash with this. You smell awful.”
I glare at him. “It’s not me. The man stank like death.”
“I know. You usually smell good,” he says before disappearing behind the truck to load the tank in the camper. I blink, flustered. He comes back a moment later. “Move. I’ll drive.”
“I’m fine.”
“Can’t you just fucking relax for a moment and let me handle things?” His anger surprises me, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m scooting over to the passenger side like a scolded child. “Good man,” he says.
I glare at his profile as he drives us away from the dilapidated casino.
Just as Alastair isn’t used to being disobeyed, it’s uncommon for people to ignore my anger and resentment. I’m a big and scary man, and normally only Perri and my mothers play with my boundaries. But it appears my king is learning to do just that, and I don’t know how I feel about it.
I drop my face on the window, the glass feels nice on my heated cheek.
I doze off until Alastair stops the truck in the middle of a field of yellow grass—one spark and it would set the whole thing ablaze.
He puts a hand on my arm. “Come now. Let’s take care of you first.”
I sigh and follow him to the camper at the back of the truck. I stand awkwardly in the middle of the cramped space as he turns on the water heater in the shower.
“Take your clothes off and get in,” he says.
I eye the narrow shower stall. “I won’t fit.”
“Yes, you will. I’ve used it before, and I’m bigger than you. Hurry up.”
No need to remind me.
I don’t feel like arguing right now, and a warm shower sounds heavenly.
I try to pull my t-shirt off, but the burn in my shoulder intensifies and I grimace.
Alastair comes to my rescue and gently pulls the bloody garment off my back.
He wrinkles his nose and throws it through the open back and into the field.
Then he sees the wound on my shoulder, still bleeding, and growls faintly.
For some reason, his little show of temper makes me smile.
I’m glad to know I piss him off as much as he pisses me off.
I chuck my pants and underwear while Alastair rummages through drawers to find soap and shampoo. As I enter the narrow shower stall—my butt and cock almost touching the walls—I swear he glanced at me over his shoulder.
Checking out the goods? I almost joke, but I’m afraid it’ll just make things awkward. I’m not really a funny guy, and only Perri finds me hilarious.
I turn the water on, and groan as the warm spray hits my head and shoulders. I close my eyes for a heartbeat, enjoying the luxury of a hot shower in the wastelands, then do my best to wash quickly—it feels decadent to be wasting water on something as trivial as getting cleaned up.
When I step out of the narrow stall, steam billowing in the small space, Alastair waits for me with a towel. I stare, at a loss for words. He wasn’t joking when he said he was going to take care of me, and his commitment to the task is disarming.
“Thank you,” I mumble as I dry off and tie the towel around my waist. It barely covers me.
“Sit at the edge of the bed,” he says. “I’ll clean your wound and stitch it up before you’re covered in blood again.”
“I can do it.”
“On your shoulder? I don’t think so.”
I sigh and sit on the bed obediently. What the hell is happening right now?
Alastair pulls out a first-aid kit from another drawer, and to my astonishment, he nudges my legs open with his knees to stand between them. My face warms considerably as he uses antiseptic and gauze to clean my wound.
Too close, I think, holding my breath.
“It’ll hurt a little,” he says, his breath tickling my collarbone. “I need to flush it. The blade was probably filthy.”
I stare at the ceiling. “I don’t mind. I’ve survived worse.”
“I don’t doubt it. Tell me about Perri.”
He’s hoping to distract me from the upcoming pain. There’s no need really, but I appreciate the effort.
“You know him,” I say.
“Do I? We’ve only been spending time together in recent weeks. I’ve learned more about you two in the last four days than in all the years you’ve been living at the Traveling Market.”
He inserts a large syringe, which I think contains sterile saline water, into my stab wound and starts flushing. I’m happy I’m not already wearing clean clothes as the water and blood drip all over my chest, ruining the towel around my waist.
“What do you want to know, then?” I ask, still looking up. His face is dangerously close to mine, and I’d rather not meet his gaze.
“Do you always share lovers?”
I can’t help it; for a heartbeat, I lower my eyes to look at him. Luckily, he’s focused on cleaning my wound. I barely register the throb in my shoulder, his distraction is successful.
“Not always,” I say. “Our tastes differ greatly, but we often share him—Perri—even if we don’t touch each other. Perri wants to make sure his new lover understands we’re a package—and he likes the dual attention, really—and I want to make sure his new man treats him right.”
“And what happens if his new lover doesn’t treat him right? You throw him over a bridge?”
A smile pulls at my lips. “Among other things.”
“Have you killed for him?”
This time when I look down, he’s watching me. “Of course. Plenty of times. I’d burn the world to the ground for him.”
Alastair hums. “Must be nice to be the object of your devotion. I envy him.”
Wh—what?
I don’t know what to say to that, so I keep my mouth shut and stare diligently at the ceiling of the camper.
“I’ll start stitching now, so stay still.” His fingers are deft and gentle as he pushes the wound closed, then I feel the sharp pain of the needle and thread piercing my skin. “So how come you’ve never shared Perri with me?”
My eyes widen slightly, but I manage to contain my reaction and not pull away. “You’re my king.”
“And?”
“I didn’t want to stir up trouble.”
“Are you afraid I’m going to be jealous of the two of you, get mad and throw you out of the Market?” he asks.
“Something like that.”
He chuckles. “Have some faith in me, I’m not that petty.” His white locs tickle my chest as he looks down to grab a clean gauze. “And I just feel left out.”
Left out? Does he… actively want to share Perri with me?
I hiss as he pulls on the knot, finishing the stitches, and rubs alcohol over the wound. He leans closer to cut the thread—with his teeth, of all things—and his groin grinds on mine. My cock gives a traitorous twitch under the towel.
And why does his hair smell so good? He’s always so put together, his hairstyle sharp. I wonder how much time he spends maintaining his locs every day. I’ve seen him rub oil in his hair sometimes before bed, so that’s must be why.
I clear my throat and lean back a little. “Thank you.”
Alastair smiles knowingly. “The pleasure was all mine, Stellan.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
I hold on to my towel for dear life as I rummage through my bag for clean clothes. Luckily, Alastair leaves the camper to give me some space to change.
What is happening? I wonder again as I put on a shirt with buttons to avoid taxing my shoulder.
I’m so used to having Perri as a buffer between me and his lovers, I have no idea how to act around the King.
I don’t know how to deal with people without him, period.
Jess joked once that I was lucky to have found Perri at a young age, because without him I would have spent my life alone, roaming the wastelands like a grumpy, lost soul.
“Let’s not make a fire tonight,” Alastair says as I come out of the camper. I eye the ocean of yellow grass and nod. There’s no need to help the wastelands spread faster than they already are. “I’ll take the first watch. You need to rest. You lost a lot of blood.”
I want to argue that it was nothing for a big man like me, but I know he won’t take no for answer. Maybe he’s right, and I need to relax. I should enjoy having someone else in charge for a change. And soon, I’ll be reunited with Perri, and things will go back to normal.
We eat quietly as the sun sets over the golden field, and when the dark is upon us, I climb into the camper and fall asleep in Alastair’s sheets while trying not to imagine his big body against mine.