Chapter Six
T he beast was gone.
As Jem groaned on the hard ground, his body aching in places he hadn’t known possible, he blinked in the murky dawn light at the empty grass beside him. He bolted up to sitting, the furs sliding to his lap. Had Cador abandoned him? He wasn’t sure whether to be hopeful or terrified.
But no, the others were still there, although Jem was the only one still abed—if one could call huddling under animal pelts on the hard ground “abed.” The fire blazed, some of the Erghians sitting by it eating, a few milling around.
Cador wasn’t in sight, but the pale horse they’d ridden still grazed at the stream.
Shivering at the layer of dew covering him, Jem pulled one of the furs tight around his shoulders. He inhaled Cador’s lingering scent, musky yet fresh, like moss on a stone. Or perhaps it was ice after all.
No one so much as glanced his way, although at least that meant Jem wasn’t being mocked for the moment.
He hoped Cador’s father would be more welcomed in the South.
He would be, of course—Jem’s parents were nothing if not gracious hosts.
Jem supposed he should be grateful he’d been fed and given furs.
He’d huddled under them, sticking close to Cador in the darkness.
Cador had given his word, and surely Ergh’s chieftain would expect Jem to be in one piece come the Feast of the Blood Moon, and Cador would be punished if Jem was carried off by wild animals into the night, human or otherwise.
He prodded the bandaged burn on his palm, wincing. The bonds of marriage had never felt so very real and imprisoning even though he and Cador hadn’t even…
The memory of the carnal sounds he’d heard flooded back with a hot rush, his morning erection swelling despite his mortification.
People had actually been coupling—in one case, Jem was certain it was a thrupling—right there in the open!
Even if it had been too dark to properly see, they could certainly be heard.
Not that Jem had tried to see.
But the grunts, groans, moans and cries, the suckling and slapping of flesh—it had painted vivid pictures in his mind’s eye despite his best efforts to ignore it and sleep.
In all his dark fantasies of being mastered, he’d never actually imagined it occurring outside on the earth. Morvoren riding her merman lover’s cock on a warm, sun-kissed beach was one thing. Here on the muddy ground, it seemed all the baser and shockingly real.
It shouldn’t excite him. It was crude and animalistic, and perhaps this sort of activity was exactly why the gods banished Ergh in the first place. Jem rolled his eyes at himself and muttered, “Now I believe in the gods?”
But the mainland of Onan was a land of civility, despite any tension or disputes.
A place of sleeping in beds with feather pillows and nibbling on sweet cakes served on gilded plates.
Though this was merely Jem’s experience in the castle, and he knew others weren’t nearly as pampered.
He’d taken it for granted since boyhood.
Now he was trapped alone with these brutes who hunted their food and skinned them while the animals were still warm.
And yes, some of the animals Jem had grown up eating were hunted, but he’d only ever encountered the meat cooked on his plate, usually with a fragrant cream sauce.
He’d never understood his privilege in eating meat without being confronted with the reality of the killing.
Regret stewed in his belly now. He could scarcely believe that less than a week ago he’d lazed in his own feather bed, safe and warm, sunlight beaming through the ornate glass windows. With not an inkling of what was to come.
Gripping the fur around him, Jem missed his home with a pang so fierce it stole his breath. He was wed, and of all the men he’d imagined for a husband, not one would shove him off a horse.
He spotted Cador strolling out of a copse of trees to the north with his friend Jory. They spoke and made their way to the fire, and Jem waited for Cador to at least glance in his direction.
Yet it was as though Cador had forgotten him completely. Jory sat beside him at the fire, his flame-colored hair wild. He passed Cador a steaming mug, and they took turns sipping from it, broad shoulders brushing.
What had they been doing in the woods?
“It doesn’t matter,” Jem muttered. “I don’t care. They’re free to do whatever they like.”
By the fire, Jory laughed about something. Jem cringed, remembering how Jory had offered to bed him. Was he mocking him now? Had he and Cador gone off to pleasure each other? He imagined them jesting about how awful it would be to bed someone small and inexperienced like Jem.
Jem needed to get up and do… Well, he didn’t know what, aside from relieve himself. But he needed to do something—anything—other than watch Cador and Jory. Yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away, examining this Jory.
He was smaller than Cador, though few were larger. Bigger than Jem, although that wasn’t difficult. Cador had said they’d lain together, and Jem couldn’t help but imagine the two of them naked. Did they kiss each other? Did barbarians even kiss?
He’d heard wet sounds the night before but wasn’t sure if that was mouths kissing, or mouths…elsewhere. He put Cador and Jory into different positions in his mind until he realized his morning erection had grown rock hard.
Shame heated his cheeks. Although he sat in plain view, he felt like an invisible spy forgotten in the grass, like a sarf slithering on its belly. He’d imagined copulation so many times and in so many ways even though he’d never had the courage to actually reach out and touch another.
Jory and Cador had, and he couldn’t look away. What would it be like to touch Cador properly? How would that bare flesh feel beneath his fingers?
Jory leaned in and whispered something in Cador’s ear, his lips close.
Cador smiled, his eyes crinkling and laugh soft.
For the first time Jem had witnessed, there was no derision or boasting.
It was a true smile that dimpled his cheeks, and it made Cador beautiful, his face seeming bathed in sunlight even in the gray dawn.
Jem felt strangely hollow as he watched.
As if feeling his gaze, Cador turned suddenly to meet Jem’s eyes.
His smile vanished like a puff of smoke, and guilt surged in Jem that he was the one who’d stolen Cador’s momentary joy.
Yet it wasn’t his fault they’d been forced together.
And why should he care about Cador’s happiness and whether he smiled or scowled?
Cador certainly didn’t give a damn for Jem’s contentment.
Jem shrugged out of the furs, jumping to his feet and kicking them aside.
His legs seized, the muscles strained and aching after a day on horseback.
To his horror, he got tangled in the furs and toppled back to the grass.
Where he’d been ignored before, now the entire group watched him, laughter ringing through the valley.
Quite tempted to curl up again and pull the furs over his head, Jem forced himself to find his feet and walk calmly to the trees to relieve himself. Head high, he ignored the barbarians entirely.
Yet he could not ignore Cador so completely once they were astride the horse. Cador deposited Jem over the stallion’s back, and Jem couldn’t stop a shamefully plaintive little cry from escaping his lips.
Seating himself behind, Cador growled, “What now?”
“Nothing.” Jem sat as straight as he could, away from the heat of Cador’s body.
“Bullshit. Speak.”
Frustration nipped at Jem as the horses walked back to the dirt road. What did Cador think it was? “It hurts,” he gritted out, keeping his eyes forward. “I’m not accustomed to riding, remember?”
Silence. Then, “Still?”
Jem had to laugh, although there was no true humor in it. “Yes. Worse today.” He grimaced at that unfortunate truth.
“Are you all so weak and breakable here?”
“Are you all so thick-skulled and—and—smelly on Ergh?” He cringed inwardly at his attempts at insults. His brother Pasco could surely come up with much better.
“Yes. We work hard on Ergh. Build strong bones. We’re not spoiled princes who can’t even sit without complaining.”
“Didn’t it hurt when you first rode?”
More silence before Cador said, “I don’t know. Can’t remember a time before I rode.”
After an hour, Jem’s back throbbed and his rear was so tender he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to sit again. He had no choice but to sag back against Cador, who didn’t seem to notice.
How far away was the Askorn Sea? As far as Jem knew, the Holy Place sat like a crown atop the mainland, and surely the ocean was nearby. It was said no fish or creature could live in the inky, icy depths. How far north was Ergh?
These questions remained unspoken as the morning plodded on, Jem’s body hurting with each step. Then a cry rose up from ahead, Cador’s terrifying older brother shouting something on the brisk wind.
Although the Erghians spoke the common language of Onan, they had their own words and phrases that Jem didn’t understand. The tone was harsh and short, although that seemed the usual for Bryok.
Before Jem could ask if there was something amiss, Cador urged the horse into a faster pace.
With each strike of hooves on the hard earth, pain slashed up Jem’s spine from his backside.
He hunched over, trying to relieve the pressure.
He snatched at the flowing mane to keep his balance, his branded palm protesting.
An iron band locked around Jem’s waist, Cador’s arm keeping him safely in place on Massen’s back, which was a relief. Jem was grateful, although it was likely more bother for Cador than it was worth if Jem plunged to the ground and he had to go back and fetch him.