Raylen
Chapter twelve
The echo of the applause from the Astronomy Pavilion is still ringing in my ears as we make our escape into the cooling twilight.
Sylar is practically radiating a quiet, stunned joy, his brilliant eyes wider than I’ve seen them in years.
I can’t keep my hands off him; my arm is slung over his shoulder, drawing his tall frame flush against my side as we navigate the outer edge of the pavilion.
“…heard it from a high court page,” a rushed, gossiping voice mutters from a cluster of Emberleigh nobles near a display of glowing lanterns.
Goddess, is it the same damn gossiping elf from before?
“Prince Aldian of Emberleigh is seeking a match this side of the mountain. Rumor says he’s poised to marry a commoner. A redhead.”
I freeze, my arm dropping from Sylar’s shoulder. Sylar goes entirely rigid beside me, his academic poise instantly snapping back into defensive alignment.
“Prince Aldian?” Sylar whispers, a sharp spike of panic in his voice. “Raylen, that’s absurd. Talia wouldn’t marry a prince. She doesn’t even like the royal court.”
“I know, I know,” I say quickly, trying to temper the sudden spike of anxiety bleeding back into his chest. I’m still on an absolute high from his massive victory inside the pavilion, and the idea of his sister bagging a royal seems more like a bad comedy than a real threat.
“Look, let’s just entertain the rumor for a second.
I know the Emberleigh royals are set up at The Three Cats, but at this time of day, they might be near the lower springs.
Let’s track him down and see if it’s just more market gossip. ”
We follow the trail of heavy, forest-scented incense down a winding, overgrown stone path that breaks away from the main thoroughfare.
The noise of the crowd slowly thins, replaced by the deep, rhythmic rushing of water.
We track the signs right through a narrow cleft in the rock face, expecting a royal guardsman or a lavish silk tent.
Instead, the path opens up into a hidden, breathtaking grotto.
There is no prince. There are no court pages.
There is only a cavern of dark, moss-covered stone, where the crystal-clear thermal water is entirely filled with hundreds of blooming Glow Lilies.
The flowers emit a soft, pulsing luminescence, painting the entire cavern in ethereal shades of violet, emerald, and gold.
“Wow. Raylen. It’s beautiful here.” Sylar leans down to skim his fingers over the water. “We must take a dip. It’s the perfect temperature.”
The search for the sisters completely evaporates from my mind. The atmosphere is too thick, too heavy, and entirely too romantic to ignore.
I look at Sylar. The colorful light of the lilies is dancing across his pale skin, casting long, elegant shadows over his sharp features. His breathing has already gone shallow, his eyes tracking the steam rising lazily from the water before lifting to lock on mine.
Without a word, the unspoken tension that has been building between us for a solid week snaps like an overdrawn bowstring.
We strip off our clothes in a frantic, silent blur, our cooling cloaks, leather boots, and my vest discarded onto the mossy bank. We slip into the pool, but the supposedly cooling, soothing effect of the water is instantly lost the exact moment our bare bodies collide.
The heat between us is scorching.
I reach out, calloused hands gripping Sylar’s waist and pulling him ruthlessly against the slick, mossy stone wall of the grotto. His usual stoicism shatters into a million pieces as a sharp, desperate gasp escapes his throat.
I don’t give him a chance to overthink. I lean in, capturing his jaw with my mouth, kissing a fierce trail down his throat to the hollow of his collarbone, where my silver necklace rests against his bare skin.
As we move together, the heavy sap from the lilies swirls around us, transforming the water into a rich, slick oil that coats our skin like a decadent bath oil.
Every slide of my hands over his skin feels impossibly smooth, making the friction between our bodies an intoxicating, effortless slide that drives us both wild.
I take several long moments to stretch him open with my fingers, using the velvety sap of the lilies to turn his tight heat into a slick, effortless slide. He grinds against me until I’m desperate, and horny with need.
“Enough,” he breathes, guiding the head of my cock to his entrance and sinking onto my length.
“I’ve wanted this since we were teens,” I groan against his heated flesh, my voice rough.
Raspy. Stripped of my usual playful filter.
Despite his eagerness, he’s tight. Too damn tight.
There’s no way I’m moving until he has time to adjust. “It’s true.
Every single day I was away, Sy. Every damn day. You were always on my mind.”
“Prove it,” he whispers, his amber-brown gaze unsure, but I can tell he wants to believe me.
I tuck some of his obsidian hair behind his ear, the pendant of my bracelet catching in the light of the Glow Lilies. No, it’s too much. I can’t tell him about the pendant. Not yet.
My mind races through the millions of things I can say and settles on a particular fact I’ve never told anyone. “Do you remember the night I left Moonscliffe? The night you told me all those fascinating stories and myths?”
He nods. “Of course.”
“That night was when I finally realized my true feelings for you,” I say, a fond, slightly bittersweet smile tugging at my lips as I look down at him in the water.
“And let me tell you, it is really fucking inconvenient to realize you have deep feelings for someone right before starting an apprenticeship that forces you to leave the territory. But I couldn’t just let that day go. ”
Sylar stills, his brilliant eyes tracking the movement of my mouth. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly one year later, on the anniversary of that night, I chose that specific date to finally tell the world who I am. I announced my nameday and my pronouns. I legally changed the spelling of my name. From Raelin to Raylen.”
Sylar catches his breath, his chest lifting sharply against mine. “Raylen… I always wondered about that. I knew it was the day you chose for yourself, but why that specific spelling?”
I reach up, my thumb gently tracing the elegant point of his ear, tilting his face up so he can see every ounce of devotion in my eyes.
“Because I know how much the sun and the stars mean to you, Sy. That day, right after I left, when everything felt dark and uncertain, your memory was like a sudden ray of sunshine. You were the very celestial body you cherish most in this world. I wanted to carry a piece of you with me out on the open road. My own little ray of starlight woven right into my name. A quiet, permanent representation of exactly how you made me feel.”
Sylar’s long arms tangle desperately into my damp hair, his fingers gripping tight as he arches his back into my touch.
In a fluid, breathless motion, he wraps his long legs securely around my waist, pulling my hips flush against his, leaving absolutely no space between us as he begins to ride my cock.
“Less talking,” Sylar pants against my ear, his nails digging into the muscles of my back as he shivers against me. “More of… this.”
We come together with a frantic, desperate passion that completely mirrors the suffocating Midsummer heat outside the cave.
The grotto dissolves into a sensory blur of slick skin, arched backs, and the heavy, rhythmic sound of the cool water splashing violently against the stone cave walls as we move as one.
It is a slow, deeply worshipful exploration of every touch, every look, and every unspoken confession we have cruelly missed out on for a decade.
I lose myself entirely in the taste of him, the heat of his skin, and the fierce, possessive way he clings to me. When the tension finally builds to a breaking point, we tumble over the edge together, a shimmering, breathless release rippling through us that echoes softly off the cavern ceiling.
Long after the waves slow, I hold him tight against my chest, our breathing gradually syncing up as the glowing lilies pulse quietly around us, leaving us tangled together in the warm, protecting embrace of the spring.