Page 5 of Crossbones
But it’s not. Sometimes I feel like two different people.
Most of the time I’m Caspian De’Vero—prince of no consequence, destined to rot away in an extravagant castle and marry for political gains—versusThe Fox; the rogue man of mystery who’s larger than life to people who find themselves on the brink of hopelessness. A name whispered in the same breath people use to speak of salvation. If I’m being honest, I don’t think I enjoy being either of them—both cause me to have to pretend and both were created from circumstance—not from who I see myself to be. And that in itself is another question—the ominous,who am I?question. One I’m entirely uninterested in exploring because that would require going into my head, which is a dangerous place to wander these days.
In the end, Fox is a persona. Another mask to hide behind. Just in case dear old dad catches wind of what I’m doing. Or worse, my brother—but those are all problems I’m not going to think about right now. I shove it all down and thrust my face into my ale, drinking deeply. I have to admit, Old Man Halloway is good at brewing the stuff. I catch his eye across the bar top and raise my glass to him. He winks but the man may as well be stone for how elusive his smile is.
I’d found him caught under a roof that had fallen in—bleeding out, half dead already. Every time I come in here he tries to give me free drinks, which I refuse, so I started sneaking into the back and leaving bags of coin on his kegs. I take another drink, damn my brain. It’s hard to turn off the memories when looking at each of these faces simply reminds me of how I’d found them.
Carter slides a shot of amber liquid over the sticky counter and holds an identical glass up towards me. I pick it up and my lips twitch as the ale does its work to calm me.
“Cheers, Cas,” he says. “We take the wins, remember?”
We clink glasses, and I throw back the drink, letting the fumes burn me. I slam the glass down and sling an arm around Carter as Old Man Halloway immediately fills both glasses with another shot. The edge of exhaustion I was teetering on earlier is beginning to get crowded out by the alcohol.
“That we do, my friend!” I say in his ear. I pick up my glass and raise it in salute to Old Man Halloway. “To the finest establishment in all of Adrasea.” The man shakes his head and simply sets the bottle down in front of us before walking away.
I nudge Carter. “I think I almost got a smile thistime.”
Many, many shots later and after trying, and failing, to get a smile out of Old Man Halloway, Carter and I spill out into the night, cackling at nothing. The good news is, my exhaustion is gone. Bad news—I’m drunk. My mind had been so loud I’d tried to drown it in alcohol and when that didn’t succeed I’d joined in when the patrons of the tavern roused the entire place into singing multiple shanties. It left me with no voice but it certainly was distracting.
Carter is talking but my ears are still ringing and when he bumps into me, all I can focus on is his mouth and the sudden urge to kiss him.
He laughs. “Did you hear me, Cas?”
“Not a word.” I enunciate carefully as I drag him into the shadows behind the tavern. “But I have something else in mind for that mouth.”
I only make it a few steps before his lips crash into mine and we careen drunkenly into a nearby wall. The kiss is sloppy, full of teeth and tongue while we laugh quietly into each other’s mouths anytime one of us fumbles. He tastes like rum and salt, intoxicating in my drunken haze. I can feel his hands messing with my pants. I twist my fingers into his blond hair and shove him to his knees. Leaning back against the wall, I play with his silky strands while he pulls out my dick. Rough hands stroke me from base to tip before I drag his mouth to me.
“Don’t be a tease.” My voice is a growl, low and raspy.
He chuckles, those gold eyes looking up at me with that bratty look that both drives me crazy and makes me hard. He braces his hands on my thighs but it doesn’t stop me from shoving my cock down his throat. My eyes fall half-closed as he swallows around my head and I bite back a groan. I let him suck in a breath before pulling him close again and set a punishing pace. I throw back my head and close my eyes, sinking into the sensations. Men are so different from women and sometimes I’m in the mood for this: hard planes and rough hands—while other times I want plentiful curves and soft skin. I don’t think one is better than the other, I just like to keep my options open.
My breathing grows ragged as I approach the edge. I will readily admit Carter knows what he’s doing on his knees. I look down to see him stroking his own cock. He’s deep in his own pleasure as he sucks the fuck out of me, his other hand toying with my balls. But it’s his fingers sliding back to circle my ass that has me coming down his throat, gasping a curse.
“Fuck,” I groan, chasing the pleasure rolling through me.
His moan around my cock as he follows me only prolongs my high and it feels like an age before I slump against the wall to catch my breath. I watchhim sit back and lick his lips as I tuck myself back in. I put a hand on his cheek, searching inside me for something similar to what is shining in Carter’s eyes as he looks up at me—reverent and…attached. I don’t find anything even close to that. I care for Carter and the sex is satisfying and fun but I definitely don’t feel anything close to the way he’s looking at me right now.
It’s a shame really. But he just isn’t quiteenough. Too perfect in every way. I keep wishing I’d find his edges—keep waiting to get the chills of stumbling upon something dangerous that I might cut myself on. I need someone who will see through who I pretend to be to who I really am because since I can’t figure it out, maybe someone else can.
Everyone listens to me because of my authority—whether that of a prince or a rebel—it doesn’t matter because it’s all the same. I want someone to stand next to me as my equal, not defer or look to me for every little goddamn thing. I want a challenge. I want passion. Carter is a god, on the streets and in bed, but I’m starting to come to terms with the fact that I don’t want a god—
I want the devil.
CASPIAN
A FEW WEEKS LATER
The tapestry with the House De’Vero cresttakes up the entire wall behind the King’s chair in the council room. It’s huge, gaudy and ridiculously pretentious but that’s the way it’s always been with the Houses—nothing is ever done on a small scale. I tilt my head at the image of a bear on its hind legs—the symbol of the De’Vero house. I’ve never seen one of the beasts in real life, although I’ve heard the tales of them from regions far to the north. Vicious creatures twice the height of a man and able to kill one with a swipe of a giant clawed paw. A banner floats around the beast’s body with the words “Death Before Defeat”—the De’Vero house motto.
More pretentious, noble bullshit—
“Are you listening, Caspian?”
I turn back to the room. The crown prince—my idiot older brother by only a few years—is sprawled out in a chair at the council table and my father is staring at me in annoyance, looking like he’s probably been trying to get my attention.
“I’m announcing Aldric’s betrothal to Lady Amina tonight—”
I wrinkle my nose. “So you got Lord Haldon to give you his army then?”
