Chapter Four
T he beast was naked.
Cador had been snoring off and on as the black hours ticked by interminably.
Jem was wide awake, desperately relieved they’d simply pretend they’d lain together.
He’d heard many terrifying stories of Ergh, and Cador certainly seemed capable of violence.
Jem had waited in the darkness, jumping at every sound, his branded hand throbbing.
Meanwhile, Cador had annoyingly slept like a babe. In the weak light now diffusing through the high windows of the chamber, Jem peeked over the bed frame. The pale dawn illuminated Cador’s sprawled body.
His naked body.
His naked body that, despite his cruel and crude demeanor, was Jem’s secret, dark fantasies in the flesh. The completely naked flesh.
The sheets had twisted in the night, now tangled around Cador’s powerful thighs. Jem’s gaze roved helplessly. Cador’s lips were parted, his stubbled chin more shadowed than the previous day. His nipples amid coarse hair were a dark red in the weak light, the ink of his tattoo shadowed.
Jem puzzled over the pair of curved lines that extended out and up from the center of his chest to his collarbones. Gritting his teeth, he eased the bandage from his hand and squinted at the brand he’d been too nervous to ask about.
The brand and tattoo were similar, and they were clearly tusks, surely that of the wild boar he’d once believed to be mythical. Massive boars were real, and the Erghians themselves existed—the proof of which was splayed right in front of Jem’s eyes, close enough to touch.
Not that he ever would.
Cador’s cock was, as promised, enticingly massive. Springing from a nest of curls, the ruddy shaft and meaty bollocks were impressive even at rest. Jem imagined sliding his tongue up that rod, tasting…what? Sweat and skin. Man.
If he stretched his jaw wide and sucked down as far as he could, how much would he be able to swallow? The thought of choking on it was both alarming and tantalizing.
“If you keep your pretty mouth shut…”
Jem was certain Cador hadn’t meant anything by the word pretty —that if anything, it was an insult and not praise—yet it echoed in his mind. He ached to be called pretty by someone who meant it.
Whether or not his mouth was attractive, now he could only think of opening it to swallow that thick staff of flesh.
What would Cador’s seed taste of? Was a barbarian’s different from a civilized Southerner’s?
Jem had experimentally tasted his own a few times.
It had been salty and a little metallic.
Cador snorted and kicked, his rumble of a snore cutting off suddenly.
Holding his breath, Jem dropped to a ball on the rug, which wasn’t thick enough to truly soften the stone floor.
He hadn’t even bothered attempting sleep.
He still wore the white wedding garment, but only for warmth as the night had cooled. His palm stung intensely now.
Curled on his side, he listened. Cador was still breathing evenly. Jem counted to a hundred, then rolled to his knees and peeked up again. He bit back a gasp.
The beast’s cock was alive.
That most intimate flesh was filling, and Jem watched in awe as it rose to full mast. Cador’s legs had spread even wider, and he murmured in his sleep, licking his lips.
Jem often woke hard and eager for release, and he kept luxurious, sweet-smelling oils by his bed so he could pleasure himself while he imagined being taken by a hairy, muscled man who made him scream in ecstasy.
Just like Morvoren’s bold merman in the worn pages of that beloved book, where it happened quite often and in shockingly creative ways.
Some mornings—in the dark of night as well—Jem oiled a candle and penetrated himself with it, imagining it was a hard cock belonging to a strong, broad man who might push him to his hands and knees ruthlessly or shove his ankles up around his ears, pinning him down helplessly while he was taken.
Jem eyed the barbarian’s hard cock now, his mouth going dry at the forbidden sight.
Between silky sheets in his own chamber with the door locked, it was only him and his imagination.
He was safe with his books and his trusty candle, which he’d actually packed in his trunk for the journey, just in case.
The idea of taking Cador’s very real cock was terrifying and thrilling at once. What would it be like to actually touch another so intimately? To have that rod of iron flesh inside him? To be filled with it. Not in control. At this beast’s mercy…
Cador shifted and murmured again, grumbling something and kicking so suddenly that Jem stumbled back. His arse hit the rug with a too-loud thump before he curled into a ball again, heart in his throat.
Silence stretched out, no more mutters or snorts emanating from the bed.
Cador was awake. Jem could sense it, as though the air itself had become thicker with the force of his consciousness.
Cador yawned audibly, the sheets rustling, and Jem could imagine the stretch of his strong limbs, the arch of his spine, his hard prick—
Bare feet hit the floor, and Jem squeezed his eyes shut. Cador moved a few steps, and Jem sensed him looming.
“You’re not sleeping,” Cador stated.
Jem cracked open an eye, then bolted up to sitting. Cador did indeed tower over him. Still naked. Cock still hard.
In fact, Cador lazily stroked himself, his callused fingers teasing the hood of skin at the head. Jem stared, a slave to his fascination. He was undeniably excited, his own manhood swelling. Thank gods he still wore the long white robe that pooled over his thighs.
Thick brows meeting, Cador looked down at himself, following Jem’s avid gaze. He grunted and dropped his hand to his side as if he hadn’t even realized what he’d been doing. He shrugged and ambled to the water basin, in no hurry whatsoever.
Now Jem’s view was of Cador’s rounded, firm backside, which did nothing to cool the arousal that flushed him from head to curling toes. He remained sitting on the rug with his legs tucked beside him and his shame concealed by the wedding robe.
Cador’s flesh was pale all over his body, and Jem wondered if the globes of his backside were smoother since there seemed little hair there. He’d never been in such proximity to a naked man who wasn’t family, and that had been in childhood. How would it feel to—
Stop! He’s a beast! Please retain a shred of dignity.
Jem tore his eyes from Cador’s body and pushed to standing, his feet cramped in his boots.
The servants had apparently left him and Cador fresh clothes during the wedding feast, and he went about changing.
It was a relief to get the boots off even for a few minutes. His feet were often bare by the lake.
His erection thankfully waned as he ignored Cador’s nakedness. How bizarre to think that this rude, crass stranger was his husband, and would be forever more, barring an early death. Jem considered that, but couldn’t wish death upon the man, no matter how cruel he was.
Jem buttoned a red silk shirt after quickly stripping off his breeches and pulling on a fresh pair that clung to his slim legs.
It would be as Cador said—they’d take all the lovers they wanted, which would be expected.
Not that it was spoken aloud, but Jem could name plenty of couples who lived separate lives for the most part. His parents were an exception.
If Ergh was to truly be part of Onan again, then he and Cador would reunite sporadically for ceremonies or peace summits or whatnot, remaining acquainted strangers as the years passed and they came up with a variety of excuses for their separation.
It would be perfectly manageable, and Jem would have done his duty to his kingdom.
Then why did such sadness wash over him? Why did he yearn for so much more? He’d been perfectly content with the heroes of his books and the birds with broken wings who always left him to fly freely again.
Perhaps it really was time for him to be bold. There was no reason he shouldn’t seek a lover of his own choosing, but the knowledge that connection would never be found with his husband grieved him in a way he hadn’t expected.
Still, there was nothing to be done for it, was there? He and Cador dressed, with Cador donning his leather trousers, boots, and coarse tunic. They left the wedding chamber and followed a servant who told them breakfast waited in the great hall.
“Not hungry,” Cador grumbled.
Jem asked the girl, “Is my family ready to leave for Neuvella?”
She cut him a glance. “I believe they’ll be ready after breakfast.” Judging by the tightness in her voice, there was something amiss.
Jem examined her as they neared the hall, the morning breeze wafting in through the open walkway. “Is there something else?”
She shook her head, walking faster. Jem’s stomach clenched, and he glanced at Cador, hoping to share a worried look or some acknowledgment that there was clearly another unpleasant surprise awaiting. But Cador marched on with his gaze forward.
Most delegates were absent from the dining hall, likely still abed and being dragged by the horse after far too much mead. Jem was relieved to see Santo sitting beside their parents, Pasco and Locryn mercifully absent.
“Ah, the happy couple!” Jem’s father announced, and the smattering of murmured conversations ceased. “You must be starving.”
To Jem’s horror, Cador boomed, “Yes, it was a strenuous night.”
The high cleric who’d married them—Jem was married , and he still couldn’t wrap his mind around it—appeared, a placid smile on her wrinkled face. Jem was struck by the urge to grab her robes and shake her, demanding that she unleash whatever else she had in store for them.
“You’ll certainly both need warm food in your bellies before you begin the journey across the Askorn Sea,” she said.
Jem swore he could actually feel his blood run as cold as the North was purported to be.
Both. Journey to Ergh.