A Love Like Fire: High Fantasy M/M Romance (Juxtan Book 1) Page 3

  "Yes, you never answered how you do that." Caledon studied him. "What are you, a mage in disguise? Or worse, a sorcerer?"

  Hadrian laughed thinly. "Would that be so bad?"

  Caledon thought of his thief friends, Gam and Lio, who had been cursed by a sorcerer. "It would be a considerable disappointment," he replied drolly.

  Something passed quickly over Hadrian's face. He looked away before Caledon could positively identify it. Caledon reached for a handful of his hair again, wanting badly to use the grip to bring Hadrian closer. But he only cupped the dark strands, letting them pool in his palm like black ink. "You're too fair to be a sorcerer," Caledon declared, rubbing his fingers together over the inkiness. "All the sorcerers I've encountered were ugly. Hideous, really." He shuddered melodramatically. “I’m nearly ill from remembering.”

  Hadrian stared at him a moment, then broke into laughter. "That is the most ignorant thing I have ever heard anyone say," he said around his laughter. "Magick doesn’t make you ugly."

  "Really?" Caledon said, pretending to consider the words when all he was really doing was savoring the sound of Hadrian’s laughter. "Unless you have one to show me who can change my mind, I'm sticking by my opinion. Ogres, all of them. On second thought, ogres might find them repulsive, too."

  Smiling, Hadrian shook his head, causing his hair to slip from Caledon's light grasp. Caledon mourned the loss with a sigh, to which Hadrian gave a mystified smile. "I wish I understood the fascination with my hair. So many people seem to want a handful of it. I was even offered a small fortune to sell it."

  Caledon shuddered at the thought of Hadrian’s shorn locks. "Your hair is clean."

  Hadrian blinked. "What?"

  "No lice that I can see. And so far no fleas...I’d have felt them on me, but so far I’m wearing only my own. Quite an oddity in Rhiad, in case you hadn't noticed." He smiled at Hadrian's undignified snort. "I myself am an oddity, of course. I make sure my fleas and I bathe regularly."

  Hadrian's light laugher followed Caledon as he moved past the younger man to the end of the pier. As though it were something he did every day, Caledon sat down on the rough planks and let his legs dangle over the water.

  He could sense Hadrian’s hesitation in joining him down on the wood.

  Caledon tilted his head back, resting its weight on his shoulders as he looked up at him. "You've hair the color of shadow, Hadrian. I'm rather intimate with the darkness myself. I'm drawn to it, you could say." And to you. Their eyes held for a heartbeat and Caledon thought he saw a darkening of Hadrian’s gray depths. "Come down here," he cajoled, dropping his head forward to face the water again. "You're hurting my neck."

  He gazed out at the rippling waters of Blackfell Bay, at the ribbons of purple and mauve that twisted over its surface. He realized he was holding his breath. He let it go as Hadrian carefully lowered himself beside him, a good arm's length away.

  "I've heard that my mother possessed hair so pale it was nearly white," Hadrian murmured.

  "That explains your complexion," Caledon replied, admiring his pale skin, so stark against the black of his hair. “It makes you appear to be someone out of a dream.”

  A frown pulled at Hadrian’s lips. "It makes me odd," he argued, kicking his boots over the water. "People stare at me."

  Caledon shook his head, amazed at the other's naiveté. Hadrian sounded more than sheltered, he sounded cloistered. Though he was the son of a wealthy land owner and surely the target of many a single woman hoping to make a good marriage, Caledon would wager his next meal that Hadrian had never even been kissed.

  Now that is a travesty worth amending.

  "People stare at you, yes. But not for the reasons you think, love."

  Hadrian ducked his head, apparently embarrassed. Caledon was entranced.

  "May I―may I ask you something?" Hadrian said hesitantly.

  Caledon tried to catch his eye, but the gray gaze was skittish. He turned to study the sunset instead. "Of course."

  Without the pressure of Caledon's gaze, Hadrian was able to look at the mercenary's profile. His attention felt like a caress.

  "Why are you here? Why...with me?"

  Because you are the feyest creature I have ever met in my life, Caledon thought to himself. Because you possess a beauty that weakens my knees and a soul so sweet and pure I can hardly believe it. You are unreal, and yet you are here, and the moment of your vanishing will be the end of me.

  But such words might have scared the other man away, and indeed, Caledon hadn’t realized how he truly felt until that moment. Shaken, he said instead, "Your company is refreshing. The work that I do can be ugly. Dark. It's enough to make a man lose interest in the things which used to make him happy. You remind me of those things. All those little things.”

  He felt Hadrian's eyes roam his face like shy fingers. "If being a mercenary bothers you so much, why do you do it? You seem intelligent and your skills with weaponry must be considerable. Why not earn your money another way?"

  Caledon shrugged, about to say something flippant and only half-true to end this particular topic. Then he hesitated. "Do you really want to know?" He turned to look at the other man.

  Hadrian nodded. "I do.”

  Caledon shouldn't have met those eyes. They were painfully earnest. Those eyes wanted to know Caledon's secrets. They encouraged him to shed his concealing cloak of humor and cockiness and admit that being a mercenary had not been his choice in life. That it had been something done out of a painful sense of righteousness. It was a righteousness that burned within him yet, but it grew dimmer with each morally questionable job that he accepted. I do it for the coin, was his stock response, thrown out with a disarming grin. But Hadrian's eyes didn't accept that. They wanted him to tell that truth. And the truth was that Caledon had taken up the sword long ago to conquer an injustice. Now, he wielded it only because he did not know what else to do. Though he would never admit it aloud, in his heart he feared he was no better than those who fought for the Guild.

  But to admit that to Hadrian was pointless. There were other ways to woo a potential lover than to resort to the cold, hard truth no matter how well it might be received.

  Caledon reached out and wrapped dark hair once again around his fingers. The touch made Hadrian draw back some, like a tide that had reached too far up the beach. The demands of his eyes retreated as well.

  "I haven't the imagination for anything better," Caledon told him lightly. "What I do keeps me in ale and whores and that's as much as I could ask for."

  Disappointment shadowed Hadrian's eyes. "That's not what you were going to say."

  Caledon stared at him, feeling unexpectedly vulnerable. He didn't like it. The corner of his mouth twitched into a familiar smirk. "Ale and whores, love, really are all I care about. I'm very easy to please." He made a show of looking over Hadrian’s body. "You'll find that out soon enough, I think."

  "I-I need to take my supper," Hadrian stammered, rising to his feet. "Please don't follow me. I don't need a guard."

  Caledon dropped his hand. His fingers felt rough and scratchy against his palm now that the silk of dark hair was gone. "If it bothers you, I'll stay away," he said quietly. He felt as though he had made a mistake just now and that bothered him, maybe even shamed him, just a little. What was it about Hadrian that left him so unsettled?

  Hadrian's shoulders sagged slightly. "Thank you."

  Caledon tilted his head back once more, his easy smile in place as though it had never left. "You're welcome."

  The hint of a shy smile ghosted Hadrian's lips before he turned and walked away.

  "Please see me tonight, Hadrian."

  Hadrian’s steps faltered and drew to a stop. More nervous than he liked, Caledon faced the melting sun that leaked across the water’s surface.

  "I don't…I don’t think that's a good idea."

  Caledon let the dying light fill his eyes. "Please, Hadrian."

  He hadn't meant to beg, but the inadver
tent honesty worked as a lie might not have.

  "Perhaps," Hadrian murmured. He said it quickly, as though needing to say it before his resolve left him.

  Caledon watched the sun sink as he listened to the other man scurry away. He sighed and closed his eyes. In his heart weighed something he had not felt for many seasons. It was hope. It felt like a stranger.

  ~~~~~

  I wasted my coin on supper, Hadrian thought. He should have known better than to try to eat while his stomach churned with anxiety. He hadn't been able to force more than a tiny morsel of bread between his lips before he'd given up the attempt. Ah, well. How was he to know? He'd never felt this way before in his life.

  The Fickle Harper Inn was a muted hum behind him. Occasionally the door would open and the loud sounds of conversation and the flute would spill out into the empty street. But mostly it was quiet as Hadrian stood before the doors of the stable; just the tiny rustle of rodents scurrying through the hay and the pounding of his heartbeat, surely the loudest sound in Rhiad.

  He didn't know what he was doing here. If his father found out, well... it would be unpleasant. This trip to Rhiad wasn't supposed to be a time for fulfilling personal curiosities no matter how demanding.

  But you may never get this chance again.

  That was the reason he was here. Caledon was interested in him. It was so inconceivable to Hadrian that he knew he'd be a fool to pass up this rare opportunity to be the focus of a handsome man’s attention. And there was the matter of Hadrian unable to fight his own attraction for the mercenary. Caledon was unlike any man Hadrian knew. His strength and size made Hadrian’s knees tremble, yet the instant Caledon smiled and his eyes lit up, Hadrian felt as though he were soaring.

  Even so, that didn't completely explain the attraction. There was more to the mercenary. Regret hid behind the bravado. Caledon had been close to sharing a secret with him at the docks, one Hadrian suspected had been clutched close for a long time. That glimpse of hidden pain was a lodestone. Hadrian wanted another chance to be included in something that was clearly meaningful to the other man. He wanted to matter to someone. Especially to Caledon.

  Hadrian let his forehead come to rest against the door of the stable. He wanted to be completely honest with himself. He was here for all those reasons, but also for one very basic one. He was aware of the particulars of congress between a man and a woman. But what about between a man and a man? He understood the physical mechanics of the act―which made him hot to think about―but to actually perform them and to yearn for them…this was new.

  It was the wild, fluttery feeling in his stomach. It was the strange surge of blood to his lower body that left him feeling faint and exhilarated at the same time. It wasn't love. He understood that love was an emotion he might never come across in his life. But what he was feeling was something almost as potent. It was lust.

  Lust made his hand shake as he pushed the doors aside and peered into the darkness of the stables. It made his breath short as he slid the doors shut behind him and waited for his eyes to adjust. He was terrified. He was excited. It was all he could do not to jump out of his skin when Caledon's voice drifted over him from out of the darkness.

  "I was afraid you wouldn't come."

  So was I.

  A hand found in him the dark, the same calloused palm that had cradled his hand in the day. It now enfolded his own in a familiarity that made Hadrian's cheeks hot. He let himself be led to the end of the stables. Caledon opened the door of the last stall and gently tugged Hadrian inside with him. A black mare stood within, snorting softly.

  "This is Isaleyn," the mercenary said fondly. "My little girl." Wide cracks in the stable walls allowed enough moonlight inside to highlight Caledon's profile as he leaned in toward his horse. "Isa, love, this is Hadrian."

  Caledon pressed Hadrian's palm to the silky neck of the horse. The mercenary's hand settled atop his.

  The feel of the horse was reassuring to Hadrian. This was a sensation he was familiar with, which grounded him. When he began stroking her neck, Caledon's hand followed him, his larger fingers slipping between Hadrian's. It was unexpectedly intimate, but not in a way that left him uneasy or nervous. It was pleasant.

  "She's lovely," Hadrian murmured, his hand tingling from the contrasts of Isa's cool, sleek hair and Caledon's warm, rough skin. He smiled when Isa swung her head around, a brown eye rolling toward him as if she'd understood the compliment. "How long have you owned her?"

  "Since she was a filly. She's my baby, aren't you, girl?" The coo of Caledon's voice might have sounded humorous under different circumstances. Hadrian found himself becoming slightly jealous.

  "You've taken wonderful care of her," he said. "She is a prize, truly."

  He felt the mercenary shrug. "She is. I spend a lot of time with her. Yet as much as I love her, it wouldn't do for others to see me trying to sneak her into my bed," he said with humor in his voice. "A horse is only good for so much. Then you need to look elsewhere for your company."

  This last was said in a lowered voice, close to Hadrian's ear. A tremble beneath Isa's skin transmitted through Hadrian’s hand to Caledon's. Or was it the other way around? Hadrian was beginning to grow a little dizzy.

  "Is this―is this all you wanted to show me, then?" he asked faintly.

  Caledon lifted his own hand away.

  Hadrian shut his eyes, regretting his forwardness. Had he sounded impatient? Ungrateful? He didn't know how to play this game. Should he have said nothing and allowed the other man to control the conversation? He didn't know. Yet again, he cursed his ignorance in such matters.

  But Caledon hadn't left him as he’d feared. The mercenary moved closer to Hadrian than before, pressing up against Hadrian's back. His large, warm hands settled on his hips and that simple touch nearly made Hadrian moan. Shaking, so excited he felt faint, Hadrian continue to mindlessly stroke the horse. He bit his lip when Caledon’s right arm slid around his waist, encircling him.

  "I'm trying to make you comfortable," Caledon murmured against his ear. Hadrian bit his lip harder when soft lips hummed against the outer shell of his ear. "I know you're inexperienced. I don't want to scare you off by moving too fast. I thought meeting Isa would be a nice start to getting to know me better."

  Hadrian summoned up a touch of indignation. "I'm not as green...as green as you think." He tried not to whimper when the lips at his ear drifted lower, to his neck.

  "No?" Caledon smiled against his skin. "Then does that mean someone has done this to you before?" Scorching heat seared the side of Hadrian's neck as Caledon opened his mouth and dragged his tongue across Hadrian's skin.

  Hadrian nearly jumped out of the other man's arms in shock. Oh, gods! his frazzled brain cried. What is he doing?

  But he liked it. Oh, yes. So he forced himself to stammer out a panted, "Y-yes. Of course I've.... oh, of course I've―someone's done that to me."

  The heated tip of Caledon's tongue ran a sinuous trail up and down the side of his neck. When it slid down the junction between his neck and shoulder, Hadrian's fingers and toes curled. He had to force the digits flat upon Isa's neck. He could feel himself shaking harder as Caledon continued to lick him. Lick him. By the gods, it felt so good, that sleek wetness tickling him and yet not. The sheer wetness of Caledon's tongue and its odd firm strength against Hadrian's neck were making the blood drain from his head and fall to his nether parts.

  Caledon's breath cooled the moisture he’d left behind on his skin. "And I suppose this is nothing new to you, either?" His teeth sank carefully into the flesh of Hadrian's shoulder, right where it met his neck. The bite didn’t break the skin, but the sheer carnality of it forced a gasp to Hadrian’s lips.

  His vision was going blurry. He tried to concentrate on the sight of his hand, pressed almost desperately against the side of Caledon's horse. Just brush Isa. Brush Isa. He made himself move. Watching his own pale hand stroke up and down the dark hair of the horse helped to ground him somewhat.
<
br />   "You've done all of this, then?" Caledon asked in a husked whisper.

  Oh, but that voice threatened to undo him again. "Yes," Hadrian panted, feeling himself shiver despite the flush of heat that blazed throughout his body. "All of...gods, all of it."

  Caledon's head lifted from Hadrian's neck. The arm around his waist squeezed almost reassuringly, then dropped away. Hadrian's breath hitched with disappointment, but Caledon continued to speak, following his words with actions.

  "So if I turned you around," the mercenary continued to whisper as he gently urged Hadrian to face him, "and pressed you back against my horse, giving you nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide―" his grin showed whitely in the dim lighting, "―you wouldn't fight me because you've done this before." Hadrian stared up at him helplessly, knowing his face was aflame and that he was panting too loudly to disguise it. His body was erect with newfound need and he ached―oh, how he ached.

  "Yes," Hadrian whispered breathlessly.

  Caledon stepped closer and the space between them vanished. Backed against the supportive body of the mercenary's horse, Hadrian had nowhere to go. He found he wanted it that way.

  Fingertips glided down the side of his cheek. He shut his eyes, trembling and not caring that Caledon would be able to feel it. He tensed in expectation when Caledon leaned forward. But all the mercenary did was rub his roughly stubbled cheek against Hadrian's, letting his breath fan Hadrian’s ear.

  "You're more experienced than I thought," Caledon teased.

  Hadrian hesitated before finally doing what he'd longed to do since meeting the other man. He raised his trembling hands in the darkness and set them atop Caledon’s shoulders. Muscles as firm as stone shifted beneath his palms. The touch made his fingers buzz with the need to feel more. But he was afraid. Afraid of what he wanted, afraid of asking for it.

  Caledon calmly erased his fears. He reached up and urged Hadrian's hands to curl behind the mercenary's neck, where the skin was soft and vulnerable. Hadrian smiled in the darkness. This was so much better. Now he could feel the heat of Caledon's skin, and learn that he burned, just as Hadrian did.