Page 44 of The Missing Sentinel
Ducarius pressed kisses to Drexley’s forehead, nose, and finally his swollen mouth. “Stay in the present. You need rest. One without tortured dreams. Conserve your energy. I plan to explore you thoroughly tomorrow night.”
“I cannot decide if I should rush upstairs to stroke my shaft or ignore my hardness and save my seed for tomorrow night when you touch me.”
“Again, you are describing things in too much detail, Drexley. You are not the only one who requires sleep. How can I escape exhaustion if I wake every few hours to jerk off thanks to the erotic dreams you are surely planting in my brain?”
“Perseverance.”
“Hateful man.”
Drexley threw his head back and laughed. It was a beautiful sound, and Ducarius could not resist tugging him close for another deep kiss. If he suffered through the night, then it was a price Ducarius would gladly pay. Luckily, he already had the anticipation of tomorrow night awaiting him.
Chapter 20
With so much on his mind and a lone skeleton left in the castle to complete chores, Drexley had little time to examine his thoughts. Except the ones about Ducarius. Those he dwelled on constantly. Too often, Drexley found himself with a book on his lap, but the words blurred because he was far too interested in reliving sweet kisses or conversations with his mate.
Even now, Drexley was seated in the library with Adney nearby and ignoring the tome on his lap. Adney was also supposed to be reading, but the necromancer was doing more muttering and hastily flipping pages than absorbing information. As for Ducarius, he was on what now served as the roof of the castle training because most of the ground had disappeared.
There were no loud crashes to signal the land breaking away. From what Drexley understood of magic, Adney’s shrinking well was now causing things to poof out of existence too. If that were not enough to terrify Drexley, the necromancer had taken his first ever nap that morning after breakfast. Adney no longer had the energy to stay awake all day.
Despite Drexley’s best efforts to wish Adney’s death away, it was marching ever closer. Drexley hated to think about thefuture, but it was growing harder to ignore. What would he do without Adney? With his poor memory, would Drexley someday forget the man who had molded him into an educated scholar?
Terror plagued Drexley, and he swore his heart squeezed painfully in his chest at the thought of lighting Adney’s funeral pyre. Drexley bit his lip, and a tear slid down his cheek. The past few centuries had been idyllic thanks to Adney’s tutelage. Although Drexley could not recall the early days of their relationship, he was reminded often of how he had left behind the remnants of the primitive spell that had created him.
Adney had somehow looked at him and seen his potential. They had become more than expert and pupil—they were a family. Drexley wiped the moisture from his face and realized the room had quieted. A quick glance at Adney told him the necromancer had drifted off in his chair. Two naps in a single day and they had not even had their supper meal yet.
How long had Adney been fighting against his growing exhaustion?
The library door opened, and Drexley’s damp gaze met Ducarius’s. Compassion was immediately stamped on Ducarius’s face, and he held out his arms. Setting aside the book he wasn’t reading, Drexley rose, but instead of accepting Ducarius’s hug, he took his hand and led him out of the library.
“Adney is resting,” Drexley explained as he pulled the door closed to avoid waking Adney.
“Come here,” Ducarius ordered as he tugged Drexley close.
Grateful for the comfort, Drexley pressed as close as he could manage to his mate.
“Are you weeping because he is exhausted again?” Ducarius asked softly.
Drexley clutched Ducarius’s shirt and shrugged. “That is part of it, I suppose. Death is creeping closer. I hate the thought of living without him.”
“I know. I am sorry.”
“More than that, I dislike his pain and wonder how long he has fought against the exhaustion overwhelming him today. Why does he insist on pushing himself so hard? There is no need for him to suffer unduly. If he must endure this, then I want it to be as easy as possible. Though I suppose there is no simple road to dying slowly.”
“Since it stresses you, I will avoid pointing out that the path he has chosen is adding a layer of unnecessary difficulty, and I worry that he will suffer injuries due to his stubbornness. We cannot heal him, Drexley. There are thousands of books in that library, but none of them will give us mending magic.”
“Necromancers use dark magic; healing is of a light or neutral nature. It would pain him if we had those skills.”
“Not entirely true any longer. There is a tiny population of two who are dark menders, but such knowledge is useless to us right now.”
“Dark menders?” Drexley asked, his eyes meeting Ducarius’s as once again the other sentinel defied everything he had studied in Adney’s library. “The more I learn, the less I realize I know. What use is my education if everything I have learned is no longer relevant?”
Ducarius rubbed his chin and kissed him gently. “You enjoy reading, and I have given you the perfect excuse to spend the next several decades burying yourself in books to update your knowledge. When you are finished and caught up to the modern day, you may thank me.”
“Do not make me smile, I am in no mood for it.”
“Yet your lips are already curved upward,” Ducarius responded with a grin of his own.
“That is because you are annoyingly irresistible.”
