Chapter Eighteen #2
“Jem!”
Was he hiding? Hurt? The shadows grew longer. Deeper. Cador knew these woods like his own cottage, yet he stumbled, pine needles scratching his face and muffling his steps. His heart drummed too loud in his ears in the silence—then even louder when a crow cawed from the branches above.
Cador had never felt lonely in these woods, yet he did now, jumping at shadows, worry gnawing. He understood Jem couldn’t even look at him after what he’d done, but he needed to know he was safe.
As he searched, his mind returned to Jem telling the stories from his beloved books.
How avidly the children and parents had listened, no traces of suspicion toward Jem remaining.
Cador had thought it best for everyone to keep Jem apart from Rusk.
He hadn’t barred him from lessons with Austol—as tempted as he’d been to ease his own jealousy—but nor had he encouraged his people to know Jem.
He’d thought the mainlanders so different. They all had. Yet as much as he wanted to maintain Ergh’s independence from the clerics, he could now envision a future of sharing and fellowship with the people of Onan. A future with Jem accepted and welcomed on Ergh.
Yet first they were to wage war, and Cador dreaded it more than ever.
“Jem!” He stopped to listen. Nothing.
No trace of snow remained, the ground muddy and thawed.
The white flowers that burst up to carpet the forest at the first hint of true spring poked their heads through, eager for just a few hours of sunlight to bloom.
Byghan calves would stand on spindly legs, and Cador would hunt in only his vest, soaking in the warmth before winter returned too swiftly.
For the moment, he was glad of his cloak and tunic although sweat clung to his skin. Shivering, he felt raw. Flayed. Perhaps it was for the best—let Jem hate him for this and all his treachery. Let them share no more forbidden pleasure.
Cador didn’t deserve him. He’d always been so damn sure of everything. That the gods were false and the mainlanders the enemy and that he’d never fall in love.
Gripping his spear, he shoved aside a bough of sharp needles. Love. What madness! Surely he could not love so quickly. Bryok would scoff and say he should abandon Jem to the boars and the approaching night. Once, Cador might have laughed along with him as though it was a jest.
“Jem!” He screamed it now, his throat dry.
He slid to a halt, every muscle tensed as he listened. There had been something. A noise that didn’t fit. A voice. A response. He strained, blood rushing in his ears.
There!
He rushed toward the call of his name—diving into the bitter embrace of a tree just in time, a hairy, snorting boar thundering toward him. Snorting, the boar skidded as Cador struggled in the mud, his boots slipping as he crashed to his arse.
Distractions were fatal, and Cador had let his churning thoughts take over. He reached for the spear on his back—no, he’d been holding it. Where, where, where?
Fingers grasping, his heart was going to tear through his throat as he scrabbled in the underbrush, reaching blindly, the boar’s hooves deafening as it returned to defend its territory.
He yanked his dagger from his boot, a last resort. There was only a flash—bulging eyes, mighty tusks, teeth bared in a ferocious grimace—and Cador knew this was the end even as he slashed with his dagger.
He heard his last shout of defiance as if from a great distance, as though he was deep under the icy waves of the Askorn Sea. Another cry ripped through the forest, and Cador blinked at the boar, trying to understand why its tusks hadn’t impaled him. His clean blade was still clutched in his hand.
Inches from his boot, the boar shook and snarled, a spear driven through its thick body. As it gave its final death rattles, Cador followed the spear upward to the hunter who wielded it.
Blood was flecked across Jem’s sweet face. Lips parted, he gasped, eyes wild as he stared at the felled boar. He gripped Cador’s spear so tightly his knuckles looked about to burst through the skin.
Cador dropped the knife and pushed to his feet. It would have been more honorable a death than he deserved, but he’d never been so grateful to still be breathing. The boar was barrel-thick and all muscle, and Jem had felled it.
“You saved me,” Cador marveled.
Chest heaving, Jem stared down at the stilled boar. With a loud straining grunt, he yanked the spear free. Blood oozed from the fatal wound. Jem looked to the spear as though he didn’t understand how it had gotten into his hands. He dropped it to the red-soaked earth.
“My little prince will be a hunter yet.”
Almost flying, his cloak fanning around him, Jem leapt forward and shoved his palms against Cador’s chest. Even fueled by resentment and the energy of a kill, his strength was no match for Cador’s bulk.
But Cador welcomed the aggression. It was either that or Jem might burst into tears, and he didn’t think he could bear it.
Jem’s harsh breaths filled the stillness. He looked from Cador to the boar and back again, his empty fingers twitching. “I—” His fine brows met. “You—” He bit out a frustrated groan.
Cador understood this mess of anger over the books, fear of the snarling boar, and the kill’s undeniable rush. Again, Jem shoved at his chest with both hands. Cador barely budged and could have easily remained on his feet, but he guessed what Jem craved in that moment.
He willingly—eagerly—dropped to his back on the muddy, bloody soil, Jem straddling him and thrusting his hard cock against Cador’s swelling shaft through their leather trousers. Jem shoved his tongue into his mouth, kissing him with a desperate moan.
He knew this frenzy well, and although he hadn’t speared the boar himself, he joined in Jem’s desperate drive. Taking Jem’s face in his hands, he licked the warm spray of the beast’s blood and fed it to Jem in a deep, sweeping kiss.
Gasping, Jem tugged at their fastenings, freeing their stiff cocks. Cador would have lifted his legs for Jem to fuck him, but Jem desperately stripped his lower half bare and impaled himself on Cador’s prick, crying out.
It had to be painful. Indeed, Jem gritted his teeth as he took Cador fully. Cador tried to soothe with gentle caresses, but Jem impatiently slapped his hands away and tore off his shirt so he rode him naked.
What a sight.
Lean thighs flexing, mouth open and back arched, eyes screwed shut, Jem dug his fingers into Cador’s chest as he fucked himself. His stiff prick was flushed purple, his nipples red and peaked.
Yet he couldn’t seem to find the release he so clearly hungered for. He grunted and whined and didn’t ease up despite the roughness without oil. Cador worried he might actually hurt himself, though he was taking his shaft like a warrior.
Cador would be ready to shoot his seed any minute, but there was something not right for Jem. As he rode Cador’s cock, despairing confusion creased his face.
Gripping Jem’s waist, he lifted him and shoved him into the mud, rolling atop before Jem could even protest. But he didn’t protest—indeed, he moaned gratefully as Cador crushed him down and captured his wrists. Even with the fire of a fresh kill blazing through his veins, Jem craved being taken.
Cador surged with odd pride that he had been right about what Jem needed; it twined with pleasure at the trust in him. He took his face in hand and kissed him deeply. Cador had already been hard, but now his prick was absolute iron. How had he ever thought Jem beneath his notice? Beneath his touch?
“So eager for my mighty cock, hmm?” he taunted playfully, sitting up, keeping Jem’s wrists pressed to the earth on either side of his head.
At Jem’s nod, Cador clucked his tongue in pretend disapproval.
“Look at you. Naked in the muck.” He sat back farther, letting go of Jem’s wrists and straddling his knees.
Jem didn’t move aside from the heaving of his chest. His shaft strained and leaked.
Cador was still dressed aside from his throbbing prick standing proud from his open trousers. He unfastened his cloak from around his neck and let it drop behind. Keeping his tunic on, he let his gaze rake down Jem’s bare body.
Jem’s cock twitched, and he made pleading little sounds in his throat.
Cador drew a finger down Jem’s shaking chest. Never had he been so torn between merciless fucking or smoothing his hands over warm flesh with his lips following a tender path, slowly tasting until they both quivered with the need to join and spill their seed together.
“Cador?”
He shook off his reverie, realizing he was rubbing his prick with his other hand. “I want to do everything to you.” With you. “You’d let me, wouldn’t you?” He circled Jem’s nipples with his fingertip.
“Yes,” Jem breathed.
“You’ll let me do anything.” It wasn’t even a question.
Yet he answered. “Yes.”
The trust in that simple word—uttered while he waited in such a vulnerable position—made Cador’s heart clench. That he was the first man Jem had allowed to touch him made it all the sweeter.
First and only.
It was more than a passing thought—it was a vow, swift and ruthless like the charging boar aiming its tusks for the soft, secret part of Cador’s soul.
The idea of another man putting his grubby hands on Jem, entering him and spilling seed in his core, sparked fury that rose up from deep within, like when he hunted and another challenged him for the prize.
The need for Jem to trust him burned blisteringly hot. He knew he didn’t deserve that trust, but he ached for it all the same. He vowed to earn it.
“Please. I need you.”
It was barely a whisper, but Cador jolted as though it had been a shout. He had failed in so much, but this? He could give Jem exactly what he needed.
“Fuck me,” Jem pleaded, and it fired Cador’s blood to hear him speak crudely.