Page 24 of King's Man

“Why on earth not?”

Because it reminds me of you.“This feels more fitting to my current situation.” He pushed the half-empty bottle toward Nate, standing up. “It’s yours. I’m done and for bed. I hope you sleep well.”

“Do you really?” Nate’s gleaming eyes caught his; he was a little drunk, Sam realized. A little reckless. “You could help with that, you know.”

Sam’s mouth dried at the blatant suggestion because, yes, part of him wanted that. Some base, physical part of him responded to the invitation in Nate’s eyes like sulfur to a flame. His whole body ablaze with helpless desire, cheeks burning.

But the rest of him rebelled in indignation that Nate could treat the subject so lightly. That he could be so frivolous about something that had meant so much to them. And Sam knew with absolute certainty that if he succumbed tonight, it would make his sadness all the harder to bear in the morning. “I should —” He turned away, knocking against the table and sloshing the gin in his haste. “Goodnight.”

He fled to the jakes, Nate’s hot gaze on his back.

Once he’d relieved himself, he crossed the yard to the stables, pausing outside to take a couple of steadying breaths. No doubt there’d be a few hands sleeping in the hayloft tonight, but, like Nate had said, he’d slept in worse places. The dark, dank pit of Simsbury Mine being the worst. And anything was safer than a night sleeping within reach of Nate.

He was just opening the stable door when someone grabbed his arm. Sam spun, fists up, only to find Nate standing there in the dark. His eyes gleamed with reflected moonlight, lips slightly parted, and he was breathing fast as if he’d run. Sam slowly lowered his arms.

No. He wanted to say it aloud.No, I don’t want this.

But the words wouldn’t come.

Putting a hand to Sam’s chest, Nate crowded him around the corner of the stable into deep shadows. “Sam,” he said, so close Sam could feel his breath on his lips. “Can’t we put the past behind us?”

Sam wanted to push him away; he wanted to pull him closer. He did neither, just stood there in the darkness watching the glint of Nate’s eyes, the shape of his mouth, needing but unable to take. Never had he wanted, and not wanted, anything so much in his life. The contradiction paralyzed him.

For a long moment they stood in silence. Heat from Nate’s fingers bled through Sam’s shirt, his dark gaze unfathomable. And then, with a frustrated growl, Nate surged forward and crushed his lips to Sam’s in a fierce, desperate kiss.

Sam could do nothing but let him.

He tasted of cheap gin and desire, of love and longing and everything they’d lost. Sam’s heart clattered painfully against his ribs as something big and ugly clawed its way up from inside, some base emotion that tore out in a raw sob. He hardly knew what he felt, only that it was too much. Overwhelmed, he drove his fingers into Nate’s hair, knotting them there, forcing Nate’s head back to deepen the kiss. To make it a punishment. But Nate only took Sam’s face in his hands, too tender, too gentle, murmuring soft sounds that set Sam blazing.

Fuck, how he wanted him. How heresentedhim.

Desire like panic made him breathless, pulsed in his ears until the pounding of his blood was all Sam could hear. Everything was slipping out of control. With a grunt, he pushed Nate hard against the stable wall, pinning him there with his body.

“You bastard,” he growled into the soft space beneath Nate’s ear, tasting the salt of his skin, breathing in that delicious scent of home. Making Nate squirm. “You hell-born bastard. Ilovedyou.”

Nate gave a convulsive jolt and pulled Sam closer, hands fisting in his coat, his body arching. “Sam,” he rasped, tugging at the fall of Sam’s breeches, fumbling in his haste. “Let me show you…”

And Sam started to unravel, a world of fury and desire and fear unspooling at his feet. It was all madness. Glorious, blazing madness!

Until he couldn’t breathe.

Until tar-stench flooded his nose and throat, choking him, terror leaping like flames toward his scorched skin. Hate-spitting faces loomed out of the dark — Pig-fucking Tory whore!The horror of Simsbury Mine squeezed his chest, its dank smothering darkness crushing his lungs. Cries and groans and madness. Panic like nothing he’d ever imagined, primal and humiliating. Unmanning.

“No!” Sam lurched back, blood pounding in his ears as he tore free of the memories. Dizzy, he tried to suck breath into his cramping lungs.

Nate watched him with wide eyes, half sprawled against the wall, chest heaving. After a moment he reached out a shaking hand, his face ghostly. “Sam?”

“I can’t —” He stumbled back another step. “I don’t want this.”

Silence, broken only by their rasping breaths as they stared at each other. A distant bell tolled the half hour and eventually Nate lowered his hand. “I see.”

“You let it happen.” Sam’s words crawled up from the dark, unbidden. “I loved you and you let them destroy me.”

Nate flinched. After a moment, he pushed away from the wall and brushed trembling hands over his ravaged hair, tugging down his waistcoat. “How could I have stopped them?”

Sam didn’t answer. He couldn’t. There were no words to explain the howling agony of seeing Nate standing with the mob, watching in silence while Sam was humiliated, abused, and driven out of his home. There were no words for the pain of that betrayal, the pain of knowing that Nate simply hadn’t loved him enough to try and save him. Maybe it wasn’t rational, but that was how he felt and offering his heart, bloody and beaten, to the man who’d already crushed it was impossible. He couldn’t do it.

Instead, he took a step back to give Nate room to leave.

---