The Necromancer’s Light by Tavia Lark

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Arthur

They both rise with the dawn, tangled in each other’s arms. After breakfast and before they break camp, Arthur yanks his shirt over his head and thinks he hears a muffled squeak from Shae, which is both cute and gratifying. “I’m taking a bath,” he says.

“All right.” Shae’s eyes are clearly fixed on Arthur’s abs.

Arthur takes advantage of his distraction to seize his arm. “So are you. You’re filthier than I am.”

“I am not.” Shae gently shoves, but Arthur can tell the protest isn’t sincere. He follows quickly enough, cheeks pink, to the river.

Arthur finishes stripping first and heads straight into the water so he doesn’t maul Shae on the riverbank. The water is cool and clear over dark sand and pebbles. It comes to his waist at the deepest point. Overhead, a lace-like canopy of trees breaks the early sun into dappling beams of light. Arthur bends over and dunks his head in the water, scrubbing over his scalp with his fingernails. He surfaces in time to see Shae entering the water, clothes and bandages gone, fully naked except for the silver at his fingers and ears.

He’s the most beautiful man Arthur’s ever seen, both stronger and more fragile than he appears at first. He’s thin and pale, but there’s muscle along his narrow bones from years of traveling. Years of running. Dark curls of hair dust his chest and trail down from his belly button to surround the cock Arthur tasted yesterday.

He has more scars than the ones on his arms. Three white streaks cross his chest diagonally from collarbone to sternum. Puckered patches beneath his ribs. A whole stretch of tiny discolorations wrapping around his left thigh, quickly covered as Shae moves deeper into the water.

“Did you actually want a bath, or did you just want to stare at me?” Shae asks. There’s an expression on his face that Arthur can’t quite read.

“I just wanted to stare at you,” Arthur answers immediately. “What is it?”

Shae wades closer, a scowl briefly deepening between his brows. For a moment, Arthur thinks he might not answer. But when he’s close enough, he says, “The scar on your back.”

Arthur goes still.

Funny. He was so concerned about Shae’s scars that he forgot about his own.

One year ago, Ronan’s blade slipped through his skin and muscle. Precisely angled not to kill him, but the poison swept straight through his bloodstream. Arthur’s not exactly sure what it looks like now. It’s inconvenient to check. The healers said there was barely a pink line to the left of his spine, but that was a year ago. He assumes it’s healed more now, and it doesn’t hurt or itch. Sometimes he forgets that his body carries a permanent reminder of his carelessness.

Shae must see something in his expression, because he murmurs, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Arthur says, reaching out his hand. “It doesn’t hurt. Come here.”

Shae joins Arthur in the middle of the river. He does as Arthur had, ducking down to get his head wet and burying his hands in his hair, but straightens back up with a curse almost immediately.

“What’s wrong?” Arthur asks, wading closer.

Shae waves his left hand, the scabbed-over cut still visible down the palm. “There’s a reason I usually stab myself in the arm instead. Ow.”

He probably wouldn’t appreciate the pang of guilt Arthur feels—though Arthur is grateful not to have been ripped apart by vaidkos in the middle of the road. He takes Shae’s hand and kisses his fingertips. Savors the shiver that runs through Shae’s body at the touch. He’s never met anyone so responsive to the simplest things before.

“Want me to get your hair instead?”

He expects refusal or hesitation. Anything but Shae’s immediate, “All right. Thanks.”

Now Arthur’s the one overwhelmed by the simple act of trust as he puts his hand on Shae’s neck, and Shae bends over in the water. His hair flows around Arthur’s hands, tangling between his fingers. His spine curves above the water, every vertebra visible. There aren’t as many scars on his back. Shae claims he’s spent ten years running from his fears, but his body tells a different story. The story of a man who faces danger head-on, and bears the scars to prove it.

He scrubs over Shae’s scalp as best he can before feeling Shae move. He lets Shae back up in a splash. Water runs down from his drenched hair, sliding and sparkling over his jaw, his throat, his arms. His heaving chest. His lips part to gasp for air. Arthur’s cock hardens in response.

“Let me get your back too,” he suggests selfishly.

Shae shoves his drenched hair back from his face and wipes the water from his eyes. “You don’t have to make excuses to touch me,” he says, turning around. “Unless you’re really excited about hygiene.”

Arthur laughs. “You got me. I’m a clean freak.”

Shae isn’t tiny, but he feels and looks like it under Arthur’s larger hands. He shivers with the first touch, leaning into the pressure as Arthur rubs the tense muscles of his shoulders. It’s not much of a scrub-down. They don’t have towels or soap. Just Arthur’s callused hands scraping against Shae’s skin, more a massage than anything else. The dirt washing away into the river is incidental. Even in the chill of the water, he feels Shae warming up beneath his touch.

“You said ages ago you could feel my aura,” Arthur says eventually. “Can you feel it right now?”

“Yes,” Shae breathes. His head tips back in pleasure, and his wet hair falls over Arthur’s hands.

“What does it feel like? Heat?”

Shae turns around in his arms, a hungry light in his eyes. He touches Arthur’s waist. His stomach. Places one hand at Arthur’s neck, thumb stroking over his pulse point. They press together, and under the water, Arthur feels Shae’s hot, hard cock slide up against his own.

“It’s warm,” Shae says quietly. “But it’s more than that. If you could taste sunlight, it would taste like you. I haven’t felt the heat of summer in so long, I’ve forgotten what it felt like. I’ve spent so long just trying to be less cold. Actually being warm was a pathetic fantasy.”

“Shae,” Arthur starts, heart pounding, but thin fingers cover his lips.

“When I’m near you,” Shae whispers, “I feel alive.”

The water runs around and between them, and living heat runs through Arthur’s veins, pulling him to Shae. He covers Shae’s mouth and swallows down every breath, every whimper he can get. Shae kisses back like a starving man, and Arthur wonders how he ever thought the necromancer was cold at heart.

He reaches between them and wraps his hand around both their cocks. Stroking them together is like liquid fire beneath Arthur’s skin. The slight friction through the water, the way Shae rocks against him, up into his hand.

Shae moans into his mouth. Bracing his left wrist on Arthur’s shoulder, he drops his right hand down to join Arthur’s. Their fingers twine together around their cocks, and with a few rough strokes, Shae breaks from their kiss. His forehead presses to Arthur’s chest, and he shudders through his orgasm.

Arthur quickly follows him, his lungs and veins filled entirely with Shae.