Page 18 of Randall
I took him at his word, listening to him bustle about, speaking softly to the beasts as he undid the straps and buckles and led them to the water. With the river gurgling merrily in the background, I stretched, wondering how much time had passed and if I’d get much sleep from here on out. Jarrah had told Sylvan to wait three days, and day one was already half over. We had much more traveling to do to reach the spot Jarrah had pointed to on the map.
I descended from the carriage to spy my mate standing at the edge of the river, his face turned upstream as sunlight filtered around him. He glowed with energy and vibrance, wonder and excitement. He was… beautiful. His long silver hair hung in a single loose braid down the center of his back; his pale skin and sharp cheekbones called out to me, begging for my touch. I rubbed my calloused fingertips together, feeling dirty and old. Darvon’s youthful appearance made him seem innocent and sweet, though at three hundred years old, I suspected there wasn’t much innocence left.
On the other hand, I had all of my innocence intact. I’d been studious as a boy, my nose always in a spellbook, with no cares for romantic entanglements. I only cared about what kind of mischief I could cause. So just after I'd turned eighteen, a youngman on the cusp of adulthood, my clan sent me to the capital, and though I’d caught the eye of a townsman or guard a time or two, when they realized who I was, they'd made excuses and departed quickly.
While I didn’t expect Darvon to run, I felt my inadequacies might cause some issues. Soon we’d add another, and all I’d shared so far with Darvon had been a single chaste kiss in the middle of a frozen tavern brawl.
“You’re frowning. What’s wrong?” Darvon placed a hand on my chest.
So lost in thought, I hadn’t heard him approach. I covered his hand with one of mine, pressing it tighter to my body. His eyes were wide open, the starbursts in the center shining brightly. Darvon’s lips twitched into a small smile. “I know.” He slid his other hand into my hair and cupped the back of my head, guiding me closer, his dampened lips parting. “You require a good morning kiss,” he murmured right before our mouths met softly.
Taking my cues from him, I let Darvon deepen the kiss, pressing harder, lips parting to trace teeth and tongues. He tasted like the apples Soric had packed, and I wanted to taste more of him. Did he taste sweet all over?
Darvon’s quiet moan twisted something dark inside me. Lust slammed into me. I wanted more. Wanted him with a passion I’d never felt before. Startled by my own desirous thoughts, I jerked away, untangling myself from the grip I’d taken on him. Turning away, my cheeks hot with embarrassment, I strode into the woods, ignoring his call. “I just need a minute,” I tossed over my shoulder and hurried on.
The woods offered their cool embrace as I leaned against a tree and breathed, willing my heart to stop its ridiculous racing. Would I ever not feel like a fool in front of him?
“Randall. What did I do? I thought—”
“No.” I couldn’t let him think he did anything wrong. “I… It’s fine. I’m fine. You have nothing to worry about. You did nothing…”except kiss me with centuries of experience to my pitiful few times.Not one of them had kissed me like Darvon had.
Darvon scoffed. “It was definitely something, but I’ll let it go for now. We should eat while the horses rest, so we’re ready to move on.” He trailed his palm down my arm before returning to the carriage, leaving me with an aching cock and a headache of my own making.
Chapter 13
Darvon
Darvon hadn’t wanted to “let it go.” He wanted to hash out what had happened. One moment, they were kissing, and the next, Randall had stormed off into the forest. He’d followed, slower, wanting to give his mate a little time. He hadn’t said anything… hadn’t even thought anything other than to question why hadn’t they been kissing more.
Had Randall read his mind? Darvon stilled and checked his wards, but found them all neat and tidy. Eventually, he’d let them fade, but he wanted to keep some thoughts private for a while longer. No sense in letting Randall see all his flaws just yet.
Perhaps it wasn’t him. Maybe Randall didn’t like the way he kissed. That would be awkward, but he’d never admit he lacked experience. Humans were known to be loose with their bodies, taking several lovers before settling down. The Fae usually did as well; it was just that he’d had so few encounters…
Darvon rummaged in the bag of food Soric had packed, pulling out another apple, bread filled with a variety of nuts, and driedmeat. He placed half on a cloth for Randall and took the other half down to the river to keep watch.
The deep caw of a raven sounded over the rushing water. Darvon glanced up at the bird sitting on a branch, looking first at him and then toward the woods. He flew off toward Randall, leaving Darvon to stare after it, wondering about its message.
Randall came running, shouting, “Darvon!” and pointing at the water, the raven flying over his head. Darvon spun around to face the river, spying the log from their vision. Black-spotted grey paws clawed at the large branch. A black nose lifted, and their mate’s head bobbed above the waterline.
Darvon dropped to his knees, digging his fingertips into the soil and calling for the trees to aid him. This he could do. What he’d always been good at. They bent to his will, branches drooping into the river, making a catch basket with their twined limbs. The log bumped against it, stalling their mate’s progress.
Randall pulled up short beside him and stared across the river. Black eyes filled with hope stared back at them. When the feline lifted a paw, however, he slipped beneath the rushing water; only his single paw, claws embedded into the wood, kept him from being swept downstream.
“I’ve got him,” Randall said, calling on his magick. He swirled his hands in circles, muttering a spell so softly that Darvon could barely make out the words over the sound of the running water. Randall swept curled fingers up and in, urging the log to the shore, lifting it onto land, and dragging their mate along with it.
Darvon raced over, kneeling in the mix of earth and sand, and pulled their mate fully from the river, which sought to have him back in its watery grip. “No!” Darvon spat, thrusting a hand into the water, using his earth magick to shove it away. “No. He’s mine.” The river obeyed, gentling and smoothing, allowing Darvon and Randall to lift their shivering mate free of thebranch and carry him to the carriage. Darvon hurried to find blankets to dry his fur and warm the body that felt too cold.
Randall cradled the shaking, limp feline in his arms, singing a low song of warmth and love. Even as Darvon tucked the blanket around their mate, he could tell whatever Randall was doing was working. His fur had mostly dried, and the shivering shudders that had wracked his small body had lessened.
Randall glanced at him with a tight smile that slowly grew the longer he stared down at their mate. Darvon hovered. He wanted to touch, to stroke his palm over that sleek fur. His hands rose unconsciously, but the moment he realized what he was doing, he shoved them down to his sides.
Unsure what to do, but needing to do something, he looked around and spied the food he’d taken out and which the raven was eyeing. Their mate would be hungry and thirsty. He shooed the bird away and then found an open sunny spot and crouched, placing his fingertips in the middle of scraggly grass and broken rock. Mindful of Randall’s warning regarding strong magick, he only let a smidgeon trickle into the ground, asking for it to form a circle of earth surrounded by a ring of rock. He shifted the grass away, urging the roots to move closer to the water. They happily obliged.
He quickly gathered deadwood that nearly jumped into his hands and then kindled it to light, which took more magick than he wanted. He’d never been a strong fire-wielder. Earth magick was his strongest asset; fire his weakest. Randall settled on the ground, close to the blaze, sending Darvon another smile and a nod of thanks as he continued to croon to their mate.
“He’s probably hungry, so I thought…” Darvon didn’t wait for Randall’s reply before turning to retrieve their food and finding the raven with its beak buried in the bread. “Shoo, shoo. Go away. That’s ours.”
Randall laughed behind him as he chased the determined bird away. Another lighter chuckle filled the air, followed by a rough coughing. Darvon spun around. The young man lying in Randall’s lap was small and slight, his pale skin darkened below his hooded eyes. His hair was long, loose with a light wave, a dark brown that was nearly black with streaks of grey, a juxtaposition of his fur. He’d curled over with the coughing fit, and Randall was rubbing his back.
