35. Beautiful Cage
BEAUTIFUL CAGE
ASHER
L ev’s muscular ass in tight riding pants was the only reason Asher hadn’t turned around and gone back to bed.
“It’s freezing,” Asher said through chattering teeth.
“You’ll be sweating soon enough,” Lev said briskly and hooked an arm around Asher’s shoulders, sharing his warmth as they walked.
Ivy crawled up and over tall stone walls and rained scarlet leaves. Triangular ponds overrun with lily pads and acid green algae marked the four corners of the square garden. Rose bushes ran amok in weedy flowerbeds, neglected for so long branches had tangled into brambles.
“I’ve let most of the gardens go. It’s far too much upkeep. The vegetable garden in the conservatory is mine, though.”
“Did Luna teach you?”
“Wendell, actually. He said I needed to watch something living grow from decay after Mum died. Planting a seed taught me more about faith than any religion could because I had to trust that the seed was growing beneath the surface, even if I couldn’t see it.”
“I’m glad you had Wendell.”
“I quite agree, especially because I despise store-bought tomatoes.”
A statue stood watch over the enormous arch leading to the moors, a mirror image of the one guarding the front gate. “What’s with the statues?”
“Statues?” He followed Asher’s gaze. “Oh. Those? They’ve been here so long I forget they exist.”
“I thought the one at the gate was pointing in a different direction than I remembered when I tried to leave that night, but I was too busy trying to escape to worry about it.”
Lev’s smile twisted into a frown. “Which way was it pointing?”
“Which way is it supposed to be pointing?”
“Toward the castle.”
Maybe Asher had misremembered the statue pointing away from the castle that first night. Asher squeezed his hand. “Hey, I’m still here. You saved me, remember?”
Lev kissed Asher’s hand, then pulled a metal rod up from the ground and heaved the gate open. “The stables are through here.”
Miles of verdant moors, lumbering hills, and evergreen forests dotted with splashes of goldenrod and burnt orange stretched on endlessly. Squat stone walls divided the valley into pastures.
“This is beautiful. Who knew all this was hiding behind the castle?” He’d paint it later.
“When I see Lichenmoor through your eyes, I almost believe it’s beautiful too.” Lev veered left, trampling over withering thistles toward a long brick building with a mossy thatched roof.
“You don’t think it’s beautiful?”
Lev shrugged a shoulder. “It’s a cage. ”
Asher linked his arm with Lev’s, slowing him down enough to kiss. “I’m going to break you out of this cage one day.”
“You’re certainly stubborn enough to keep trying.”
“Rude.”
A very dirty Great Pyrenees guarded a flock of sheep on a small hill.
“Are the sheep yours too?”
“God, no. I wouldn’t know the first thing to do with sheep. I lease some of our land to local farmers.”
“But I thought you dated the sheep farmer’s son?”
Lev’s hearty laugh boomed across the meadow and flushed birds from their roosts. The dog barked.
“The dog is Bruno.”
Lichenmoor’s stable was a brick building that sheltered the horses from all sides, though once Lev hauled the sliding iron door open, the layout was the same as every stable he’d seen in America.
All the stalls were empty, aside from the two in the front where a gray gelding and Rebecca nudged their noses through the gaps in their stalls.
“That’s Dorian. You two share similar temperaments—stubborn and prickly, a little stoic, definitely nippy. Prone to running off. You can ride Rebecca. She’s far more pleasant.”
“Ha-ha,” Asher deadpanned.
Lev showed him to a saddle room cleaner than his mother’s kitchen. Dewdrops slid down the panes of narrow arched windows. Polished amber wood lockers with built-in benches lined the widest wall.
Asher whistled lowly. “This is a far cry from our dusty stable back home.”
“Horses shit on the ground, anyway. I doubt they care about dust.”
He hadn’t expected such a crass reply, and burst into laughter.
Lev watched him fondly. “You’re so greedy with your laughs, I get a little kick of dopamine when you do.”
“Imagine how good you’d feel if you were actually funny…”
Lev plunked down on the bench and swapped his rain boots for knee-high riding boots.
“Rebecca’s things are above her saddle,” Lev said, head bent as he fought with the zipper of his boot.
A crop leaned against the wall below the bridle and bit hanging from a hook.
Asher picked it up. Ben had used a crop on him.
At first, Asher had liked it—there was a reason he had so many tattoos—but Ben had used pain for psychological warfare, lashing out unpredictably until he’d lost all sense of safety and surrendered to subserviency.
Bees buzzed in his ears. His skin itched, and his throat tightened. Ben wasn’t here. He could breathe, even if it felt like his throat was closing up. He leaned the crop back against the wall and wiped his shaking, clammy hands on his pants.
“Are you trying to suggest something, Blakely?” Lev murmured.
Asher spun around, startled by his silent approach. “I’m not into impact play.”
Lev picked up the crop. “Pity.”
“I’m sorry.” He couldn’t do that again, even for Lev.
“What for? Setting a boundary?” Lev took a step back, giving him more space, in that emotionally intelligent way of his.
Asher’s tension eased slightly, but he couldn’t drag his gaze away from the crop in Lev’s hand.
“Are you into that?” Asher asked. “Sadism, I mean.”
Lev’s fingers twitched on the handle. “No.”
Ashed exhaled.
Lev lifted the crop, and Asher’s instincts took over. His eyes slammed shut. His hands shot up to guard his face. But the blast of pain never came. Lev dropped the crop and kicked it aside, sending it skittering across the stone floor, out of his reach.
Strong arms enveloped him. Lev guided the side of Asher’s head to his heart, and the slow, steady drum rooted him in the present, helping to pull him from his panic.
“I’ve got you. You’re safe,” Lev said in a soothing hush. “You’re with me. I will never hit you, I promise. I was trying to hang it on the hook behind you.”
Shame filled Asher. Lev would never hurt him. Why had he reacted that way? When would he get over Ben? It’s not like Ben had abused him. Asher had always consented, and Ben never left a lasting mark.
The scars on his heart didn’t count.
“Try slowing your breathing to match mine, hm?”
When had he started hyperventilating?
“Breathe in, darling.” Lev’s chest swelled.
Asher inhaled, comforted by the jasmine in Lev’s cologne and the oak and moss of Lichenmoor, as Lev stroked his back in a lazy rhythm.
“And out.” The pillow of Lev’s chest ebbed. “Good lad.”
After a few rounds of Lev-guided breathing, Asher finally made it to the other side of his panic attack.
“Well done, Ash.”
Lev released him and bared his palms to prove he was unarmed, then bent his knees, lowering halfway to a deep squat, making himself smaller, less of a threat, and it was so fucking thoughtful, Asher fell in love with him even more.
“I’m so sorry I frightened you,” Lev said, brow wrinkling with contrition as he looked up at him. “I was trying to flirt, but I fear I’m rather rusty.”
“You did nothing wrong.”
“Neither did you.” Lev stood slowly. “May I hug you again?”
“Yeah.”
Lev wrapped him in a gentle hug and kissed the top of his head.
“Tell me what he did to you.”