The Necromancer’s Light by Tavia Lark

❧

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Arthur

Arthur’s sword rips through one vaidkos’s throat in a spray of light and blood. Moments later, the corpse bursts into ash. Arthur darts back, circling with the other three, trying to focus on all of them at once. Sweat stings at the corners of his eyes. So far, they’ve only scratched him, and he’s got a hell of a bruise forming on his left shoulder, but the math is simple. There’s one of him, and three left of them. He’s not liking his odds.

Smoke and thunder clash down the road. Arthur takes advantage of the distraction to lunge for the nearest vaidkos, but it dodges his blade just in time. He pulls back and chances a glance beyond the malformed heads.

As the smoke clears, an unfamiliar figure stands with Shae.

Before Arthur can do anything about that, two vaidkos leap at him together, and he whirls around them only to collide with the third. His magic flares, blunting the razor-sharp claws. He is the Radiant’s sword, and the Radiant is his shield. The vaidkos chokes on his blade, green-black blood bubbling from his jaws, and falls to its death throes in the clouds of dust.

Only two remain, but Arthur only has a few more moments of full power left.

“Sacred Vara,” he says between gasps, “your servant prays for brightest light.”

His answer comes not in light, but in a scream and an explosion of darkness. Ribbons of shadow burst from the ground, whipping through the battlefield. Arthur yells, trying to dodge, trying to keep his sword clear—

But the shadows arc around him and pierce through the vaidkos instead. Their screams tear the sky as the shadows rend their flesh asunder, scales and fur and feathers flying. Bone cracks through skin and withers away, until everything is ash and silence.

The shadow ribbons vanish in the sunlight, as if they never were.

Arthur turns around, sword arm aching and heart still pounding, to see Shae staggering to his feet with Duchess a good twenty paces behind him. Shae’s too far away for Arthur to make out his expression, and then he’s moving too fast. The slim figure sprints towards him.

Every bone in Arthur’s body wants to run towards him too, but he’s still too stunned. All he can do is stand there while Shae crashes into him, grabbing his shoulders, touching his arms. His hands come away bloody. “You’re all right,” Shae says, and Arthur can’t tell which one of them he’s trying to reassure. “Are you all right? You’re alive. Fuck, I thought. Fuck.”

Arthur’s sword falls from his hand, thumping onto the dirt road. He needs both hands to touch Shae’s face, tilt him up. Shae’s lips are blue, and he’s cold to the touch. Arthur tries to brush a streak of dirt from his cheek and only makes it worse.

“Are you hurt?” Shae’s eyes are wide and red-rimmed. “Fuck, Arthur, say something.”

Arthur doesn’t have words for the emotion rising inside him. He slides his hand into Shae’s hair, holds him in place, and kisses his blue lips.

Shae gasps into his mouth, then kisses back.

Clumsily, desperately, too much tongue and teeth. The sweetest kiss Arthur’s ever had. The adrenaline of the fight twists to arousal. He holds Shae by the hair and waist, fingers tightening, as if Shae might vanish into shadows if he let go.

Shae clutches his tunic. His neck. Holds him just as hard.

Arthur breaks away, panting for breath, and presses his forehead against Shae’s. “I’m fine,” he says, a grin coloring his voice. “Thanks for asking.”

“Oh,” Shae says, in a shocked, breathless voice that Arthur finds incredibly flattering. His gray eyes are wide. “That’s good.”

Arthur tries and fails again to rub the dirt from his cheek. “Can I kiss you again?”

Shae answers by leaning up into another kiss. Just as artless, just as messy. Every gasp and movement sends heat pulsing down to Arthur’s cock. He groans and pulls back enough to kiss the corner of Shae’s mouth, to slow this down, to savor it.

His hand brushes the rings in Shae’s ear. Once, he might have recoiled at the reminder of the necromancer’s art. Now, all he can think about is how much he wants the man.

Shae’s hand slips against his neck, and Arthur feels Shae’s flinch of pain. The wetness trickling down his skin from Shae’s touch. Arthur pulls away again, as much as he wants to continue, and grabs Shae’s wrist. A long, shallow cut crosses his palm, still bleeding.

“What happened?” Arthur suddenly remembers the other figure. “Who was that?”

Shae’s hand trembles in his, and he tries to pull away. “It was Izen.”

Arthur tightens his grip. His every instinct screams to keep Shae close, to keep him safe. To protect him better. He should have been closer, he should have been between Shae and the demon.

“I drove him off, it’s fine,” Shae says. He takes a deep breath, and exhales in a laugh. A strange smile spreads across his face, and his voice grows stronger. “It’s actually fine. We’re so far from the array, his hold on the body was weak. Gods, I’ve spent so long hiding from him, but now all I can think about is…”

Arthur still doesn’t want to let go, but the surge of fear and guilt ebbs from his lungs. He laughs too, feeling almost giddy, and kisses the tips of Shae’s fingers. Watches the flush spread across Shae’s cheeks.

Shae’s covered in dirt and splattered in blood, clothes torn and hair disheveled. He looks about as wrecked as Arthur feels. But his lips are pink instead of blue, and his eyes are bright. He presses against Arthur from chest to thigh, and Arthur can feel his arousal hot against his.

If Shae weren’t injured, Arthur would be sorely tempted to take him right here in the middle of the road, in the bloody, ash-strewn dirt. The blood on Shae’s hand and the need to bandage him up is the only thing propping up Arthur’s sense of restraint.

“We really should get off the road,” he says, but instead of moving, he runs his hand up and down Shae’s back. Rubs his thumb along Shae’s wrist. Blood and dirt slide between their skin.

Shae’s the one who has to pull away, drifting to where Duchess is now calmly grazing. Arthur takes a deep breath, grabs his sword, and follows.

***

They make a brief camp between a dark, lush hillside and a narrow stream Arthur doesn’t know the name of. He walks his warding spell with the last of his energy for the day, then kneels at the riverbank to help Shae bandage his hand.

“This would be faster if you didn’t help,” Shae says breathlessly as Arthur kisses his jaw. But he’s the one who turns his head so their lips meet instead.

Arthur has to start over twice. He keeps fumbling the final loop of the bandage as Shae’s free hand wanders his body, touching his face and shoulders and chest. As if now that he has permission to touch Arthur, he’s never going to stop. Arthur doesn’t mind at all.

Finally, the bandage around his hand the only clean thing on either of them, Shae runs his fingers down the center of Arthur’s chest. “Are you hurt anywhere? You never said.”

“Just bruises.”

Shae stands up, leaving Arthur cold and wanting. “That’s good. I think it’s my turn to cook—are you hungry?”

Arthur jumps up too and stops him. It’s easy. The lightest touch on his shoulder has Shae turning towards him like a moth drawn to a flame. “Ravenous,” Arthur says, pushing Shae against the nearest tree. He kisses the whimper from Shae’s lips.

When he pulls away, Shae is dark-eyed and dazed. He licks his lips, and Arthur’s attention focuses in on the brief movement of his tongue. It’s barely afternoon, and the flush is clear across his cheeks as he confesses, “I have no idea what I’m doing here.”

Arthur’s almost ashamed of how hard that makes him. He likes the thought of being Shae’s first, with a powerful possessiveness that takes him by surprise. He’s never felt this way about anyone else before.

“Have you kissed anyone before?” he asks, running his thumb over Shae’s lip.

Shae’s eyes dart away. “What kind of idiot would kiss a necromancer?”

“In my defense,” Arthur says, “you’re a very attractive necromancer.”

“Definitely an idiot,” Shae says. But he moans into the next kiss, arching deliciously against Arthur’s body, until they’re both red-faced and panting. When they break apart, Shae breathes, “I want more.”

Arthur swears and buries his face into Shae’s neck, inhales the raw scent of him. He wants to rush into this, turn Shae around and bury himself inside with only spit between them. Overwhelm them both. He also wants to linger. Take his time. Show Shae just how incredible touching someone can be. That it’s more than magic and survival.

The second impulse wins, and he kisses the edge of Shae’s jaw. “I want to suck your cock,” he murmurs into Shae’s heated skin. “Is that all right with you?”

By Shae’s sharp inhale and the jerk of his body, that’s definitely a yes.