37. Cato
Cato
I wake slowly, and for a second, everything feels right. I’m warm and loose, with Aryn’s scent in my nose and my body curled around his. Last night comes rushing back, bringing a whirlwind of thoughts with it.
Morning-afters are always filled with regret. These are the times I want to pull away and rebuild my walls, and put some space between our bodies to make sure there’s no question about where we stand. They’re when I sneak out of rooms and pray we don’t bump into each other later.
I wait for the usual urges to creep in, but instead of feeling like I’ve gotten what I came for, I only want more. My restless heart is settled, and that certainty is strange.
I don’t hate it.
Memories flicker through my mind—the way Aryn took control, and how easily I melted under him, whimpering and begging while my brain turned to static. After a lifetime of needing to be in charge, I’d expected to wake up feeling different.
Smaller, maybe. Ashamed, even.
But I don’t. If anything, I feel steadier for trusting him with that kind of power. Lighter, but not in a floating sort of way. This is more like a weight I didn’t even know I was carrying, and now it’s gone. The admission is scary, even just as a thought in my head, but it’s also… brave?
I cringe, but fight past the knee-jerk reaction to puff out my chest and argue with myself.
Is it brave to admit I wanted him to take care of me? It… feels like it is, even if it’s not the kind of bravery I’m used to. There’s no enemy to stare down, and no charge into the fight.
That’s always been my measure of courage, and the only one I knew how to gauge.
This is something different. Harder, in its own way. I’ve spent weeks fighting the pull toward him, and so much time pretending I wasn’t okay with him taking the lead. Admitting it—really admitting it—feels like its own kind of win.
Like I finally stopped running from the one thing that actually matters.
My front is pressed flush against his back, and what started as morning wood has quickly turned into something hungrier as I replay how he felt around me last night. He’s like a damn drug, and my body is already aching for another hit.
I rock forward slowly, groaning inwardly at the friction.
Aryn is all lean muscle and hard lines, but like this—relaxed and soft with sleep—his ass is plump enough to nestle my cock between those perfect cheeks.
I wrap one arm around him, then trace my hand down his front to palm him through his underwear.
He’s half-hard already, thickening under my touch.
Aryn stirs with a sleepy hum, rolling back against me. “Morning, kitten,” he murmurs, voice gravelly. “Greedy already?”
“Shut up,” I mutter, but there’s no bite to it. I stroke him slowly, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. “I just… I want you.”
He lets out a soft, pleased sound and rocks into my fist. “So have me.”
I groan and tug his underwear down over the curve of his ass. His hole is slippery with slick and pliant from last night, and as I press two fingers inside him, he flexes around me.
“Can I?” I plead softly against his ear.
He doesn’t speak, just reaches to where my fingers are working him open and grips my wrist, guiding my hand away. His spine arches and I rock forward, the head of my cock catching on his rim.
A loud knock bangs on the door. We both freeze, but when it’s quiet outside, Aryn pushes back just enough for me to barely slip inside him.
“Fuck,” I moan softly.
We silently agree to ignore whatever is happening as he relaxes into my arms. He rocks his hips, letting the head of my cock slide in and out of him a few times, but another loud knock comes. Aryn sighs heavily, then scoots forward and sits on the edge of the bed.
“You’re a tease,” I groan. “Just let me do that like, ten more times and I’ll be done.”
Fighting a grin, he glances at me over his shoulder. “Always so charming.” He hesitates, and for a second I think he’s going to crawl back into my arms, but the knock comes again, rattling the frame this time.
“That sounds important,” he says with an apologetic smile.
I flop onto my back and throw an arm over my eyes. “Whatever that is can’t be more important than this. They can wait.”
Aryn leans over, kisses my jaw, then pries my arm away from my face. His gaze flicks down to my obvious bulge with a smirk. “Behave.”
I flip him off half-heartedly.
He chuckles as he pulls on a pair of pants, then swings the door open. Cameron and Ronan stand there, both looking far too fucking awake for this hour, and Cameron’s eyes drift past Aryn to where I lie on the bed.
I curse under my breath and roll over, shoving a pillow over my face. “Fucking hells, Aryn. Warn a guy.”
“You two look cozy,” Cameron drawls.
“What do you want?” I demand, voice muffled by the pillow. “And why couldn’t it wait two minutes?”
“Two minutes, huh? That’s telling,” Cameron says with a grin in his voice. “We’ve got a surprise. Get dressed and come with us.”
Aryn glances back at me as I sigh dramatically, but I roll out of bed, adjusting myself before pulling on my clothes. My erection refuses to flag, and Aryn is endlessly entertained as I tug my shirt down.
I flip him off again.
The morning air is crisp and clean as we follow them through the village, picking up Lillith and Taryn along the way.
We walk past the main square and up a winding path toward a large glass-and-timber structure built into the mountainside.
I realize it’s a series of greenhouses, and my irritation fades into curiosity.
I glance at Aryn, who looks just as intrigued as I feel.
Whatever this surprise is, it better be good.
Humid air washes over us as we step inside.
The whole place is filled with the smells of rich soil and growing things.
It’s pleasantly warm from the sunlight filtering through the glass panels overhead, and rows of plants stretch out in every direction.
Some we’ve seen out in the wild, while others are new.
They’re strangely beautiful—glowing faintly or curling around trellises.
At the center, a small group of Drüinae waits for us.
They’re all small and lean, with pointed ears and varying shades of deep green skin.
A female stands at the front, her pale sage hair braided and woven with dried flowers and herbs.
Several younger Drüinae stand behind her, watching us with wide, curious eyes.
“This is Elowen,” Cameron explains. She offers us a nervous smile, eyes darting between the group.
Aryn’s expression softens as he steps forward with a respectful bow of his head. “It is an honor to meet you,” he says, voice gentle.
Ronan watches the interaction with heavy emotion in his eyes before taking a deep breath. “She is Nyx’s sister.”
“What?” Aryn breathes, his gaze swinging between them.
Elowen’s words come haltingly as she searches for the right ones in English. “You… know my brother?”
“We do,” Aryn agrees softly.
Cameron sniffles, tucking himself under Ronan’s arm. “He is our family.”
“We did not… understand. When he…” She shakes her head and continues in Elyrian.
Aryn translates for the rest of us. “She says they searched for him for many years and always wondered what happened to him.”
Her eyes grow misty as she reaches out and takes Aryn’s hand in both of hers. “He was… always…” She says something else that makes Ronan chuckle softly.
“Curious,” he supplies for her.
She nods. “He was curious. Always exploring. Finding caves and rivers. Brave. Too brave. I feared…” Again, she slips into Elyrian, the words flowing more easily in her mother tongue.
Aryn’s voice is soft as he translates, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.
“She thanks us for taking care of him. She says she prayed every night that someone kind found him. These are her children,” he continues, waving his hand at the other curious faces surrounding Elowen.
“His nieces and nephews. This one”—he gestures at the smallest in the back—“is named Nyxar, as an homage to her brother.”
Cameron’s eyes are already wet as he cuddles further into Ronan, and despite not knowing Nyx well, my throat tightens, too. “The house we stayed at that first night?” I ask. “That belonged to his family, correct?”
“It did,” Ronan agrees with a heavy sigh. “Many years ago, the Viskari moved south. The Drüinae are peaceful people, and they tried to coexist. The weather grew colder and food became scarce. Their family was enslaved, essentially. Forced to hand over their food and give up their home.”
Aryn’s eyes widen as he slowly shakes his head. “My father… he was sent to rescue a Drüinae family...”
When Elowen doesn’t understand, he repeats himself in their language. “Brave,” she agrees, staring up at him with wide, mournful eyes.
Aryn kneels in front of her, speaking so softly it nearly cracks my chest in half.
I don’t have to understand the words to know what he’s saying.
A few tears slip down her mossy green cheeks before she throws herself into his arms. Aryn holds her gently, closing his eyes as a single tear escapes his own.
If I wasn’t already gone for him, this moment would’ve done it.
Everyone dries their eyes, and Elowen gathers herself with a few deep breaths. “Come,” she says to us with a wave of her hand, though her voice is shaky. “I show.”
She guides us through the greenhouses, showing us row after row of carefully tended plants. With Aryn and Ronan’s help, she explains how they use their magic to boost growth in the arid mountain soil. The younger Drüinae trail behind us, shy but smiling.
Lillith wipes her eyes. “Nyx would love this place.”
Cameron nods, voice thick. “He’d be geeking out right now, running between the plants and telling us their names.”
Aryn stays close to Nyx’s sister, listening patiently as she speaks. At one point, she stops in front of a cluster of vibrant blue ferns—the same kind we saw on the trail—and touches the leaves with a sad smile.
“He loved these,” Aryn translates. “She says he used to bring her bouquets of them when they were small.”
Elowen looks between the rest of us, eyes hopeful. “Nyx… he is happy?”
No one mentions the hard life Nyx led, or anything that was done to him. It’s in the past, and there’s no good in sharing his pain just to cause hers.
Ronan’s voice cracks as he answers for us. “He is. He has a good life. People who love him and protect him. He’s safe.”
She nods, pressing a hand to her heart, and the quiet emotion in the greenhouse becomes almost overwhelming. For a long moment, no one speaks, then Nyx’s sister smiles through her tears and gestures deeper into the greenhouse.
“Come,” she says in her soft, accented English. “I show you his favorite flowers, then we eat.”