Chapter 28
When we stop for the evening, we do so restless from the long hours in the carriage. We stretch our limbs, cramped from the space and tension of our journey so far.
Chiron and the driver make camp while Wren and I gather wood for a small fire. For the first time on this journey, our camp isn’t merely a large quilt on the forest floor. Now, there is a tent pitched just outside the space Wren had cleared for our fire.
I begin to build a fire to make our meal on, and Wren sits on the ground, legs crossed beneath him.
He is scribbling furiously, in a race with the dying light.
Last night was a rare moment with Wren, and though it had been sad, it had also been enlightening.
I wish that he could open up this way with us more.
After we’ve eaten for the evening, our driver retires to his post, watering his sturdy black horses and settling in next to the tree he tied them to.
Chiron leans back against a tree of his own, whittling a stick into a sharpened point, his face obscured in shadow.
Wren sits close to the fire, absently throwing in small bits of stick and brush.
He appears lost in his own thoughts, so I do not disturb him.
As I settle, the anxiety about how we left it in the carriage rises in me again.
Chiron and I have no reason to quarrel. In essence, we both have felt betrayed by Wren’s actions.
However, I am the only one of the two of us who can understand them now.
I rise from my spot near the fire and make my way to him.
Even leaning the way he is against the sturdy trunk behind him, Chiron is a tall and imposing figure.
His defined muscles that fill out the arms of his tunic have not suffered from our time in the city.
I pause in front of him, close enough to see that his eyes are heavy with troubles, jaw still set from earlier.
“Chiron, may we speak?” I whisper to him.
His eyes meet mine, still angry. Still hurt.
I did not expect it to be gone, but it pains me nonetheless.
“I am sorry for my sharp tongue today. I did not mean to chastise you so harshly.” His fingers stop their work, and his expression changes.
It morphs into something I do not quite understand.
His large hand reaches out to me and rests on my cheek.
His thumb strokes a gentle path over my chin.
“You owe me no apology, Netta. I had no right to speak for you. I am angry. That is no fault of yours.” I press my hand to his, holding it against my face.
I lean into his steadying touch. One of the many things I have come to appreciate about this man is his ability to admit his own faults with incredible honesty.
“You are forgiven, always. But please, would you not offer the same to Wren?” I ask him, stepping closer to him.
His other arm reaches around my waist and pulls me into his embrace.
It has been many days since we held one another so closely, and I must admit that the absence of his touch has been a hole in my life I could not have anticipated.
Chiron buries his face into my hair, my braid hangs loosely and sways behind me. He plants gentle kisses on it, and I lean closer into his warm chest.
“I am trying, Netta. Understand…” He breaks off, resting his chin on top of my head and breathing in deeply.
“I have always feared that this would happen. I’d meet my Trinity, and I would grow to care for them.
I would…” He stops again, and this time I raise my head and lean back to look into his face.
He drops his head low, squeezing his eyes shut.
I place my hand at the center of his chest and wait.
I hope the gesture can offer him steadiness.
“I have grown to love you. Both of you. Now? I cannot lose this now. But I cannot control that either.”
I have grown to love you.
Both of you.
The words echo in my head long after they are said. They move through my mind and worm their way into my aching chest. I do not leave room to be overwhelmed by them. Only to know that they are true. They are right. They are reciprocated.
“I love you, I love you both. We have to fix this, Chiron.” I whisper to him.
He nods his head furiously. I can almost feel the tears in his eyes at my words.
He pulls me back to him for a kiss so tender my eyes fill as well.
His soft lips coast over my own, at first gently.
But the dam of our admissions breaks between us, and I am quickly flooded with a yearning I have never known.
I break our kiss long enough to reach my hands up into Chiron’s thick hair and lean into his ear. “What about Wren?”
He grazes kisses along my jaw and my neck, lighting off sensations that run the course of my body before coming back up.
“What about a truce? For tonight?” His hands graze across my back with such skill and grace.
What is building tonight is not a fix for what has occurred, but perhaps a truce is exactly what we need to break the tension between us three.
I turn my head to where Wren sits, a mere thirty paces away from us.
His eyes are on us, as they so often are.
Chiron gestures behind my back, bids Wren toward us.
He shakes his head in dissent. I release Chiron’s tresses where they are wrapped between my fingers and turn myself in his arms. His hands rest at the dip of my waist, and he leans me back into him, where I can feel every inch of his heated body against my back.
Wren’s face holds so many things that it is almost impossible to parse them.
Regret, sadness, longing…and lust. I motion him forward as Chiron’s mouth finds my ear and neck once more.
I lean back into Chiron, his leg finding its way between the backs of my thighs.
His thick length presses into my lower back, pulsing even through his heavy breeches.
We are not so far North yet that the air is chilled, and the heat enveloping us is inescapable.
Wren moves to stand, and I think he will finally break this separation.
He walks our way, slowly. Tentative and quiet steps bring him to a tree just a few paces in front of where I rest back in Chiron’s embrace.
Wren matches his posture, leaning back, but placing his hands into the pockets at the front of his breeches.
The evidence of his own erection is clear, even in the darkened area of the trees where we face off.
“Join us,” I whisper to him, as Chiron’s hand slides up between my breasts.
I can tell Chiron is watching him, but he only turns his head slightly to me when he says in a silken voice, “He doesn’t want to join us, do you, Wren? You like to watch.”
He slides his fingers over the peaked nipple there, testing it between his nimble fingers. Wren is transfixed by the scene playing out before him. He nods his head slowly, agreeing with Chiron. A soft growl rumbles in the hard chest behind me, approval. A challenge.
“Would you like Wren to watch, Netta? Watch me while I take you, bare? Just like this?” The words that leave his mouth are bolder than anything Chiron has ever said before. Embarrassment doesn’t form, nor shame. Not here.
I believe I have known from very early on that Wren did not set himself apart from us without reason. He enjoys this. The watcher. By the hungry look in his eyes as he watches Chiron’s hands, I feel certain he requires this.
A breathy “Yes…” leaves my lips, and I finally, fully give in. Chiron’s fingers pinch at my tender nipples, eliciting gasps and moans from me that I did not think possible.
My eyes flutter closed, but they open again when Wren says, “Look at me, Netta.” In a quiet and husky tenor.
Chiron makes quick work of the clasps on my tunic, guiding my arms up over my head, and pulling it swiftly off of me.
I bring my own fingers to the ties at my waist, slowly releasing them until the breeches that sit at my hips slide gently down my thighs and calves.
I lift my feet from them, and Chiron kicks them to the side.
I stand before them both in nothing but the thin slippers I left on.
I slide those off as well. The night air is cooler against my warmed skin, but I do not have time to consider it before Chiron’s hands find me once more.
He slides delicate touches and kisses at the nape of my neck, working his fingers around my collarbones, tracing every line beneath them that he can feel.
The sensation of them is intoxicating, like too much wine on a feast night.
I can almost see the swirling smoke of incense in the air around us, holding us in a space that is entirely our own.
I reach out my hand behind me to Chiron’s thigh, all the while watching Wren’s eyes trail around my body with wonder.
I pull at the thick fabric, eliciting another hum that comes from deep within his chest. One hand slides to the buckle that is fashioned on his breeches.
He unclasps it and slides the loop through, all the while leaving nips and kisses at the space between my neck and my shoulder.
The sensation in my belly is that of fire.
Liquid flame travels deep into the center of me.
I know that I am wet, I can feel the ache between my thighs with visceral clarity.
When Chiron’s breeches fall around his knees, he does not move to step out of them.
He only widens his gait and lifts his own tunic off his chest. He tosses it in the pile he’s created of my own attire.
He grabs at my thick waist once more. Hauling my hips back against his erection.
I gasp at the searing warmth of it against the cleft of my bottom.
“What do you want, Wren? What do you want me to give her?” He says, biting hard into the muscle of my neck. There is pain, but it is quickly washed in pleasure. I instantly want more. Wren’s chest rises and falls in heaving motions. He is just as swept away by Chiron’s madness as I am.