Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
AURIN
Aurin woke to a room of blistering sunlight and a sharp throbbing in his head that felt offensively personal.
Salem was a warm weight against his back, and they were—he lifted the blankets to see—yep, both naked.
He had a vague recollection of having sex. His body certainly ached in all the right places. He had flashes of memories of passionate kisses and wild fucking. He remembered the orgasm Salem had beckoned out of him...
Oh yes, he remembered that.
His body flushed warm all over, heat pooling deliciously in his belly and curling around his spine. But then the warmth didn’t subside. And Salem was getting warmer at his back, and then it was all too hot, and Aurin needed to cool down.
He needed water.
To drink, to dive into. To submerse himself.
To morph.
He needed to go home.
Yes, he needed to talk to Ciaran. Yes, he’d withheld Salem’s true identity, and yes, he’d need to explain that. But he needed the cove. He needed the water of his home.
But first, he needed to get out of bed.
He lifted Salem’s arm, causing him to stir and try to tighten his hold. “No, my sweetheart. Stay.”
“I need to get up,” Aurin said. “I need water.”
He sat up, putting his feet on the floor. His head pounded, aching from his eyeballs to the back of his neck. “Ohhh,” he mumbled, then huffing out a breath as his stomach rolled.
Salem sat up. “What’s wrong?” He was bleary-eyed, his black hair mussed up and sticking out in all directions. Then he put his hand to his head. “Ow.”
Aurin chuckled. “Yeah. That’s what’s wrong.”
“You need water,” Salem said.
Aurin sighed. “Yeah.” He stood up, testing if his head and stomach agreed. He didn’t fall or vomit, so he pulled on his pants. “The stream. I need to go to the stream.”
“You need to go home,” Salem said gently.
Aurin met his eyes and he gave a nod. “Yes.”
Salem smiled for him, his yellow eyes softening. “Then we shall go.”
“Are you well enough to make the trip?”
“I am recovered, yes. Mostly, anyhow. This hangover is not helping.”
“No sympathy for self-inflicted wounds,” Aurin said, repeating what Kellan would say to the boys after a late night of too many beers.
And that made him think of Dylan and Hendrix and how they’d bonded with Kellan. A magnificent trio if there ever was one.
Which there never had been before.
Not a triad of mated cephamorphs anyway. He wondered how they were getting on.
He missed them terribly.
Salem was on his feet and pulling on his pants before he took Aurin’s arm. “To the stream with you.”
Aurin went willingly. He needed it more than he’d realised.
They walked out into what appeared to be the midday sun breaking through the mist that clung to the mountain, the lack of sleep making its effects known as they walked along the forest path.
The shade of the trees was a relief, but the smell of the forest was damp and cloying and did Aurin’s tender stomach no favours at all.
“How much did we drink last night?” Aurin asked, kinda rhetorically, kinda not.
“I told you it was potent stuff,” Salem said.
“You could have said it was lethal,” he complained. “Ugh.”
Salem laughed, the sound rebounding through the trees. Or maybe it was just echoing in Aurin’s brain. It wasn’t fun either way.
“I’m never drinking again,” Aurin added, grateful for Salem’s hold on his arm.
He was too dry, too hot, too hungover....
The stream wasn’t far, Aurin knew this, but it felt like a mile. When he heard the sound of water, when he could smell it, he found some pace. His need for water was now instinctual and bordering on desperate.
“Okay, my love,” Salem said. “Steady on.”
“Sorry,” Aurin said, but he was already undoing his pants as soon as they could see the stream. He let them fall down his legs and then stepped out of them as he walked straight into the water.
It was cold against Aurin’s hot skin, and it took all his will power to not morph on contact and melt into the shallows. The water was clear enough to show every stone, each one flattened by water and time and slick with algae, shifting slightly under his weight.
He waded in until the water met his knees, and even this contact made him feel better. He could feel it rehydrating him, slowly seeping into his body.
He turned to watch Salem follow him in. He stepped in with a hiss, breath catching halfway to a curse, then stood there ankle-deep, pale and unsteady, like the shock had momentarily erased his hangover misery.
Aurin laughed just as the sun broke through a gap in the misty cloud, its rays hitting Salem right in the face.
“Oww,” he muttered, eyes squeezed shut. “More punishment.”
Aurin laughed again and held out his hand. “Come on. Feeling ready to morph?”
It had been far too long for Salem, though his injuries were healed well enough by now, surely.
“It will make you feel better,” Aurin said. “Clear your head and stretch out those muscles.”
“Did I not stretch my muscles enough to your liking earlier this morning?” Salem asked, his eyes sparkling.
Aurin made a thoughtful face, as if he couldn’t remember. “I think I recall something about you and me in bed. I might need a refresher, though.” Then he thought about that, his mouth pulling downward. “When I’m feeling better.”
Salem laughed this time. “Yes, please have some mercy on me.”
They now stood side by side. “Did you want to morph?” Aurin asked, more seriously this time. “If you’re not up for it...”
He inhaled deeply. “I think I need to. Like you said, it will make me feel better. My body is healed enough, if the rigorous test we put it through this morning was any indication.”
Aurin nudged him as he laughed. “I’ll be close by, okay?” he said. “If it doesn’t feel right, don’t push it.”
Salem gave him a grateful smile. “Okay.”
They walked in further, until the water met their hips and Aurin couldn’t deny himself any longer.
He sank under the surface, morphing as he did.
The relief was immediate, even in this fresh water.
For a few seconds, his body filled out, arms curling and stretching over the smooth river rocks, the cool water was... enough.
For now.
A quick, half fix. A substitute for the real thing.
But still, it was unbelievably good, and Aurin was grateful. He turned in time to see Salem sink down under the surface. His form was dark and shadowy, and it took a moment for his shape to fully form. But his eyes were the same, wide and yellow, looking right at Aurin.
Aurin wound an arm around one of Salem’s. Do you feel okay? Any pain?
I’m okay. A little pain, like a muscle pulled too tight. He let his arms splay out, stretching and rolling, shaking out his tentacles.
Aurin slid his arms along Salem’s, coiling around and pulling him close. He held their bodies close, his eyes closed, and for a long moment, they stayed like that, an embrace, of sorts, in this natural form.
It was a relief Aurin couldn’t explain.
To have Salem in one piece, alive and well, was something he’d never take for granted.
You are not okay, Salem said. Even his mental voice was quiet.
Hungover, Aurin replied.
And missing home.
Aurin opened his eyes and gently caressed the side of Salem’s face. I miss my brothers, and I miss the water in the cove. But my home is wherever you are.
His yellow eyes went soft. My little golden one. Such sweet words.
Honest words. I mean them with all three of my hearts.
Salem’s laughter was cut short by a wince. Ow. My head. That damn honey mead. Kills me every time.
Aurin had flashes of memories from last night, some so absurd, he wasn’t sure if he’d dreamt it or not.
Salem chuckled. Oh, it was real.
Aurin remembered beings—he wasn’t sure what else to call them—coming out of the forest sometime after midnight. They were humanoid but looked to be made of leaves, moss and stardust.
Sprites, Salem said. I like the stardust analogy.
They looked like fairies.
Fae are different.
Fae are real?
After what you saw last night, you still doubt? He chuckled in his mind. The fact that you and I exist is proof enough, yes? Most creatures from human folktales are steeped from reality.
Aurin couldn’t believe it. Well, he could.... It was just a lot to take in.
Then he remembered something else.
He blinked at Salem. And in the trees. Birds—a lot of them. Then his memory formed fully. Tiny birds with shiny eyes. The way their eyes shone in the darkness, blinking. Well, I suppose they weren’t really birds. Not the birds we know of anyway.
Dreoilín, Salem replied. The druid’s bird.
Aurin wasn’t even surprised by that. The way they blinked and moved, they’d have been scary if Cern hadn’t welcomed them so warmly.
Aurin could remember them dancing with the faun. Oh, the female faun. And the forest sprites. They were all so beautiful, Salem. I can’t believe these creatures live in these mountains and we never knew.
Salem smiled at him. Because of Cern.
The god of the wild things. It makes so much sense now. And you? Aurin coiled a tentacle around him, giving him a gentle squeeze. You belong here.
Salem pulled back, his eyes wide. Here? I belong with you—
It wasn’t the reaction Aurin had been going for. No, not here—without me—here. I just meant here with these beautiful wild-thing folklore creatures, having midnight forest parties with other folklore creatures. You belong with me. Let’s just clear that detail up right now.
Salem nudged his forehead to Aurin’s. Just as well.
Aurin nuzzled in closer, their tentacles intertwined. Always. I love you.
A splash at the stream’s edge made them both turn, and they could see feet and legs in the water. More accurately, the feet and legs of the two younger boys, Voh and Cyd. They could hear their excited chatter, so Aurin popped his head up out of the water.
Both boys shrieked with delight, and when Aurin raised one tentacle out of the water and waved, they jumped and clapped. The sound of their laughter echoed down the stream, and bubbles escaped Salem’s mouth as he burst out laughing.