Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
We make it back to Elvarstyne Keep. The house is well-lit tonight, torches burning at regular intervals along the walls. I can see guards on patrol. Lord Clayborne put Kitty in charge of them.
No signs of unusual activity or Wiolant forces gathering for an attack.
But that doesn’t mean anything. If Rhianelle chooses Damnation, the attack could come at any moment. There’s no way to know.
The hallways are quiet, most of the household either still at the festival or already asleep. I check the corridors and every shadow for threats. My hand stays near my blade even though we’re deep inside the keep, surrounded by Clayborne guards.
My hypervigilance kept me alive this long. Garrett closes the door behind us and turns the lock, sealing us in from the world.
“Wolf.”
I turn to find Garrett watching me from beside his desk.
He’s pulled off his formal coat, leaving him in just the fine linen tunic underneath. The fabric is thin enough that I can see the outline of his body beneath it. His hair is slightly mussed, a few golden strands falling across his forehead.
“You need to relax,” he says.
“I need to keep you safe.” I cross my arms over my chest. “If the Wiolants attack—”
“They won’t. Not tonight.” He moves to the sideboard where he keeps the wine, pouring himself a glass. “Queen Rhianelle will not choose Damnation.”
The certainty in his voice grates against my nerves. “You can’t know that.”
He takes a long drink, then pours another glass.
“We danced earlier. She told me herself that she won’t destroy House Clayborne. Not yet, anyway. She’s giving me a chance to prove myself first.” He meets my eyes. “You can relax tonight, Wolf. There will be no siege or attack.”
My heart sinks like a stone. “What does that mean?”
“It means tomorrow I face her champion in single combat.” He says it casually. “Trial by duel.”
The bottom drops out of my stomach. Tomorrow. He’s going to fight Rhianelle’s best warrior tomorrow.
I watch him down the second glass like water.
“You’re drinking too much,” I chastise.
“Probably.” He pours a third, not even pretending to care about my judgment. “But tomorrow I might be dead, so tonight I’m going to get drunk in my own room with the only person whose company I actually enjoy.”
The way he easily mentions his death makes my jaw tighten. “You’re being careless.”
He crosses the room toward me, wine glass in hand. “Do you want some? It’s good. Fae wine from the southern Avalon vineyards.”
“No.”
“Your loss.” He takes another drink, then stops in front of me. “I have a plan, you know.”
“What plan?”
“A good one.” His smile is slightly lopsided now, the wine starting to show in his expression. “You’ll see. Everything will be alright.”
I should do something. Maybe I should help him train or run him through drills to make sure he’s ready for tomorrow. I look at him again.
Garrett doesn’t need training. He is one of the best swordsmen I’ve ever seen. Better than me, I’ll admit.
He’ll win tomorrow. I’m confident of that.
But he needs to stop drinking or he’ll be too hungover to fight properly.
Garrett hums the melody from the ballroom. The same song we danced to. It’s off-key and a little slurred from the wine, but it makes me smile anyway.
“You’re a terrible singer,” I tell him.
“I know. It’s one of my few flaws.” He grins at me. “Along with being too drunk and reckless.”
“Those are significant flaws.” I cross my arms, trying to look stern.
“But you like them anyway.” He takes another drink. “Admit it. You’d be bored if I was perfect.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I’d settle for you being sober enough to fight tomorrow.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ve fought with worse hangovers.” He laughs at my expression. “What? You think I haven’t shown up to sparring sessions absolutely destroyed? I’m an Aldarelf’s son, Wolf. Drinking is practically a requirement.”
Despite everything, I almost smile. “That explains so much.”
“See? You’re smiling. I knew I could get one out of you.
” He moves closer, swaying slightly. His movements are still graceful despite the fae wine.
For a moment I almost believe that he has some brilliant strategy that will save everyone.
If there’s anyone who can think of a political maneuver and way out of this impossible situation, it’s him.
Then I notice the slight unfocus in his green eyes. Garrett’s more drunk than I thought. He takes another step forward, misjudges the distance, and stumbles slightly.
Wine sloshes over the bottle and splashes across my borrowed coat and trousers. Dark red soaks into the cloth and seeps through to my skin.
“Shit.” Garrett stares at the stain. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine.” I look down at the spreading wetness.
“No, it’s—” He sets down the bottle on the coffee table and reaches for me, his hands going to the stain on my thigh where most of the wine landed. “I can fix this. Let me—”
He presses against the fabric with his hand, trying to blot away the wine. The pressure sends heat through me despite the cool wetness. His hands rest on my thigh, rubbing small circles that do absolutely nothing to help the stain but do everything to make my cock stir.
My breath catches.
“Garrett,” I call his name in a grunt. “That’s not helping.”
He pulls his hands back, looking almost sheepish. “You should use the bath. Get cleaned up before it sets.”
The coat is probably ruined already but standing here letting it soak in won’t help. Plus, I need distance and a moment to collect myself before I do something stupid.
“Fine.” I move toward the bathing chamber attached to his room. “I’ll be quick.”
The washroom is as luxurious as the rest of the keep with a large marble tub that could fit three people comfortably.
I’ve used the heated shower system a few times over the past weeks after long days of surveillance.
Tonight is no different. I strip off the wine-stained clothes and turn on the water.
It comes out warm immediately, another luxury I’ll never get used to. In Tiamat, hot water meant heating it yourself over a fire. I had cold showers more often than not because fuel was expensive. Here it’s just available and easy. Just like everything else in this world Garrett lives in.
I step under the stream, letting it wash away the stickiness of the wine. The water runs red for a moment before clearing. I work quickly, scrubbing at my skin and hair.
I need to get back out there and keep watch. I have to make sure Garrett doesn’t do anything stupid while drunk and that he’s prepared for the Duel tomorrow—
The door opens.
I freeze, water streaming over my face.
Garrett steps into the bathing chamber, holding that half-empty bottle. His shirt is unbuttoned now, hanging open to reveal the perfect planes of his chest and stomach. He’s all lean muscle and golden skin without a single scar to mar the perfection.
“What are you doing?” I demand.
“Checking on you.” He sets down the bottle and starts pulling off his shirt completely. “Making sure you got all the wine out.”
“Garrett—”
“You missed a spot.” He’s unbuttoning his trousers now, completely shameless. “Let me help.”
I have to stop this before it goes further. But I can’t make myself move as Garrett strips completely and steps into the shower with me.
I’ve seen countless naked males before. I never looked at them twice. But I can’t stop staring at him. The water hits both of us now, plastering his golden hair to his head and running in rivulets down his perfect, chiseled body.
I track the water droplets caught in his eyelashes and watch them as they slide down the sharp line of his jaw. Some pool and cling to his collarbone before they fall.
“This is inappropriate,” I manage to say.
He reaches up, fingers gentle as they brush wet hair back from my face. “Do you want me to leave?”
Fuck no.
Instead of answering, I lean down and kiss him.
Part of me expects him to push me away. I’m surprised when his fingers dig into my hair and he claims my mouth just as desperately.
Our kiss is fueled by weeks of tension and the terror of tonight.
I taste the fae wine on his tongue. It’s strong and sweet and intoxicating even secondhand. No wonder he’s drunk.
His fingers dig into muscle as he pulls himself closer, pressing our bodies together under the warm spray. I can feel every inch of him against me. Every perfect inch. The contrast between us is stark. His smooth skin against my scarred flesh. But he doesn’t seem to care.
My hands find his waist, gripping hard enough to leave marks. I want to leave marks. It’s the proof that this is real. Garrett is here and he’s choosing this.
He’s choosing me.
“Wolf,” he breathes against my mouth.
I break the kiss long enough to look at him. Water streams over his face, plastering his golden hair to his head. His lips are swollen and flushed from kissing. His green eyes are dilated, pupils blown wide with want.
I kiss him again, harder this time. My hands slide down to grip his ass, lifting him and pushing him back against the tiled wall.
The cool surface against his back makes him gasp.
I swallow the sound, kissing him until neither of us can breathe.
My hips press forward, grinding against him. The friction makes us both groan.
Garrett pushes back suddenly. He’s sliding down my body, kisses trailing across my chest and stomach as he drops to his knees in the shower. Water streams over both of us.
“What are you—” The words die in my throat as his hand wraps around my cock.
I’m already hard. Have been since he stepped into the shower. Maybe before that.
Garrett looks up at me through wet lashes, a smile playing at his lips. His hand wraps around my cock. My eyes widen as I stare down at him.
What the hell are you doing?
Then he leans forward and takes me in completely, to the back of his throat.
“Fuck…”