The Necromancer’s Light by Tavia Lark

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CHAPTER NINE

Shae

Arthur doesn’t ask any more questions as they prepare and eat dinner, and Shae is tremendously grateful for that. He still feels raw and vulnerable after saying so much at the graveside.

Maybe it’s stupid to try to keep his weaknesses a secret. Arthur has a point—how can he expect Arthur to do what’s needed if he doesn’t know what that is? But he’s never hired someone as trustworthy as Arthur before. As gods-damned nice as Arthur.

You scared the shit out of me, okay?

Nobody’s cared about him that much since his parents, and they’re ten years gone.

Shae eats his travel bread in silence and watches Arthur when he’s pretty sure Arthur isn’t looking at him. There’s something absurdly competent about the way he performs even simple tasks like stoking a fire in the fireplace or unfastening a saddlebag. Shae’s drawn to the way his hands move, the nimble strength of his fingers. He remembers how he woke up with those hands around his.

He can’t stop himself from wondering how those strong hands might feel on the rest of his body, too.

There’s no way Arthur feels the same sort of attraction for him. Arthur’s just being nice. He’s just being considerate, competent, shockingly handsome even when sweat-stained and covered in grave dirt—anyway. It’s probably a good thing that someone like Arthur would never be interested in someone like Shae, because Shae isn’t sure he could resist if he thought he had a chance. He doesn’t need the hurt that comes with trying.

They turn in early for the night. Arthur murmurs his prayer spell, his rich voice filling the broken room, and Shae feels the paladin’s magic wash through him on its way to their perimeter. His eyes flutter closed at the sensation, like invisible hands tickling beneath his chin, sliding along his waist.

Getting into bed, he’s startled when Arthur lays his own bedroll out right next to his. Not even an inch of space between them. Shae’s overwhelmed by the nearness of him, the scent of sweat, the sheer human heat.

“Is this all right?” Arthur asks. The room’s dark, only slivers of moonlight piercing the shadows. “I figured closer is better for you.”

“It’s fine,” Shae manages. “Yes, it’s better. Thanks.”

He lies down face up and wonders how the hell he’s going to sleep with Arthur breathing so close to him. Now that he’s had a taste of warm, strong arms surrounding him, of the steady heartbeat drumming against his cheek, every fiber of his being craves more. It’s all he can do to stay still, trying to count the remaining ceiling beams through the darkness.

Eventually, the exhaustion of the day and the comfortable heat of Arthur’s aura take their toll. Shae’s nerves ease, and he finds himself drifting to sleep. He isn’t cold at all. He could get used to this.

***

He wakes the next morning, even warmer and more comfortable than when he fell asleep, and knows immediately that something has gone terribly wrong.

When he fell asleep, he was next to Arthur. Now, he is very much on top of Arthur. Cheek and hand pressed against his broad chest, one of his legs actually hooked over one of Arthur’s. His heartbeat picks up, and he can’t help flinching away.

Trying to, at least. At the slight movement, Arthur’s arm tightens around his waist, pinning him in place. Shae can’t crane his head up enough to see Arthur’s face, but he has to still be asleep. Clear dawn light creeps into the ruined room, illuminating Arthur’s stubbled jaw, the lines of his throat. His chest rises and falls gently, steadily, and Shae moves with it as if Arthur’s breath is a tide, ebbing and flowing through him.

Shae can barely feel the cold darkness seated beside his heart. He feels strong enough to move mountains, to raise an army, to rip out Izen’s spine with a single word. Strong enough to do anything except extricate himself from Arthur’s comfortable embrace. He’s never felt this comfortable in his life, heat coursing down his body and pooling below his stomach.

Oh, fuck.

His eyes fly wide open as he realizes how hard he is. His cock might be trapped snug in his trousers, but it’s very definitely pressed against Arthur’s hip.

With new strength born of panic, he wriggles out from under Arthur’s arm. The paladin grumbles something in his sleep, then blinks open his eyes. “Morning.” His voice is raspy with sleep in a way that shoots straight down to Shae’s cock. “Everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine!” Shae says, jumping to his feet. “Just going out for a minute.” He flees the broken temple before Arthur can say anything else. The crisp morning air is like a bucket of cold water, washing the worst of the panic from him, but does nothing to quell the arousal pulsing in his veins.

Duchess barely looks up at him from her thorough grazing. Shae avoids eye contact with her, as if she would recognize and judge his inappropriate feelings for her human. He leans behind the decaying woodshed, out of sight from horse and man alike, a good fifty feet away from the main church. Tips his head against the wood and tries to catch his breath.

His cock still strains in his trousers, and he can’t get Arthur’s touch out of his head. It’s like traces of his aura have wrapped around Shae’s throat, choking him. He’s never been more eager to strangle himself in desire.

Eyes fluttering shut, he slides his hand under his waistband. Not even bothering to unlace his trousers, it’s a tight fit, but the friction and awkward angle are nothing compared to the remembered sensations driving him. He thinks about Arthur’s hand on his chin, and imagines that same broad hand is the one stroking him now instead of his own. Would Arthur touch gently, the way he moved Shae’s hands and legs when he was teaching him how to ride? Or roughly, pinning Shae down? Covering him completely. Insistently.

Shae’s too desperate to manage gentle right now. His hand twists tightly, and his hips rock into the friction. He’s so close. He remembers Arthur’s breath on his neck, the sound of his sleep-rough voice.

Shae covers his mouth to muffle his moan as he spills onto his fingers.

The pleasure ebbs from his body, and clarity washes in. Shae grimaces and withdraws his hand, weighing the options before wiping his seed on grass at his feet. Then he closes his eyes and meditates, clearing his mind of everything but the morning breeze in his hair, until his breathing steadies and there’s a chance his face isn’t bright red anymore, before he heads back for breakfast.