Page 3 of A Suitable Brat
“I’ll tell you what I’d tell anyone who’d want me to be direct: think about what it is you’re actually looking for.”Hely left the options—peace, companionship, quiet, excitement, touch, a fuck—unspoken.“And then consider where that might be found and if it’s here.If you need further help, then I would ask if you want to be happy or if you want to be content, and when was the last time you were either.”
Summer.Westin had last been happy in late summer, with autumn in the air but the weather still warm enough to make him sticky beneath his clothes and stare longingly toward the river parallel to the road he’d been on.He should have hurried to get to the next village, not let his gaze linger on the sparkling water so often that his desire to jump in and cool off had become obvious.
No, Westin thought in the next moment.Not then.Later.In that village that same evening, in a too-small room, in a too-small bed, sticky and hot all over again.A barn would have done for a bedroom.Nobles and innkeepers were required to give outguards somewhere to sleep, and piles of straw happened more than straw-stuffed mattresses.But Sun had insisted on a bed.
“I don’t think I’ll find that here,” Westin realized aloud.Nor was he likely to find it in the capital or anywhere else.He might have told himself that he hadn’t yet made up his mind about retirement, but he had and that memory proved it.He had felt heavy even then, as if a part of him had known it was his last trip to that village, his last break from duty to slip his feet into a cool stream, his last time spent watching the brat charm an innkeeper into giving him something nice for less money or for free.He’d felt it in his chest then and he felt it now.He summoned a smile for Hely anyway.“But I’ll settle for some peace if I can find it.”
The entrance door opened with a crash of thunder, the suddenly louder sound of heavy rain, and the startled exclamation of someone at the bar.The rain was muffled again following the quick rush to close the door.Then thunder boomed with enough force to rattle dishes and Westin glimpsed a flash through a window—lightning, and not that far away, before another rumble passed over the inn.
“Just in time,” the new arrival panted a few feet from the threshold, a long, hooded cloak dripping a puddle at their feet.The dark wool was familiar, practical and sturdy and meant for nights like this one.Hanging from one of the visitor’s hands was a bundled travel pack, and in the other was a sword, still in its scabbard and gripped around the middle—to be carried, not to be used.
“The fae and their mothers bless it all,” the newcomer swore—not too loudly, in all fairness, but the common room had gone silent at his entrance, so the words traveled.“Not a night for anyone to be out.”
The cloak was almost too large for what seemed a slender and not especially tall figure.The hood fell to below the fellow’s nose, keeping most of him hidden until he pulled the hood back, baring his handsome face to the gazes of everyone in the common room who hadn’t returned to their conversations.
Some of those conversations seemed to die again, unless Westin imagined it.He didn’t believe he did.
A worker fluttered over, ostensibly to take the wet, dripping cloak before it could do more damage to the floor, but there was likely some interest there as well.She certainly took her time explaining herself and helping with the clasp at the newcomer’s throat.
It was good that she did so, Westin told himself.He had seen Sun shake off water like a dog—though, granted, Sun had been in the house of an unfriendly noble and the rudeness had been intentional.
“Blessed fae,” Sun swore again, quieter but still audible some distance away at Westin’s table.“Why does it smell like every good thing in the country in here?”It was nearly a sigh.“Roasted meat and baking bread from one direction.Then jasmine and roses.Or lilies?Light and sweet as a noble’s bathwater?Is that scent you?What a lovely choice.”He sniffed the air, possibly to amuse the worker practically giggling for him.“Roses and violets,” he finally determined, which drew another giggle from the worker.Apparently, Sun had guessed correctly.
Hely made a small noise.Westin assumed it was because the worker was younger and new and had forgotten that she was supposed to be charming customers, not the other way around.
Well, at least with unknown customers, they were supposed to be charming.After all, some customers didn’t come here forcharming.And Sun was an unknown customer, as far as Westin knew.He certainly had never mentioned visiting Solace House.But then, Sun could be guarded.He might be a returning visitor and hadn’t mentioned it to Westin because he didn’t want Westin to know.But Sun tipped his head back to marvel at the high ceiling and the sparkling chandeliers as though he’d never seen them before, so Westin doubted he was a regular.
“Exactly as they say,” he remarked with appreciation, his gaze skipping over to the stairs and what was visible of the two upper stories on the east wing of the building, then returning to the ceiling before falling to the wide bar and all the stools lined up for those who wanted a nice meal or a drink but no conversation.
The worker, perhaps having received a chiding look from Hely, disappeared with the wet cloak, leaving Sun on his own in front of the entrance, his hands full, his attention elsewhere.He appeared to be in good spirits and not noticeably injured.Westin found some comfort in that.
On the smaller side for an outguard, Sun reached Westin’s chin, and appeared slender, perhaps even slight when without his gambeson—and even when with it, to be perfectly honest.That gave the impression that he was weak, which had fooled more than one drunken lout causing problems in a tavern.Sun, like most outguards, was all muscle from training and from days upon days spent walking or riding.It was not a life that allowed for much spare food, and in Sun’s case, without any family to supplement his income, he was possibly even slightly too thin.Something he’d resent Westin for suggesting but then wheedle Westin into buying meals for him without any space in between to consider any contradiction or hypocrisy.
He’d charge, “How dare you?”or “Fuck you,” in one breath, and then stare enviously at Westin’s plate until Westin pushed it toward him and got up to order more for himself.He had a warm smile for servers and grooms and library assistants, and a meaner one reserved for anyone who happened to have pissed him off.Both smiles suited his exceptionally handsome face, which he knew.
He had short, sleek, dark hair, starting to curl around his ears, and warm brown skin not weathered too much, either because he had only been an outguard for seven years, or because he wore his hood up when traveling in all but the hottest weather.
Westin suspected that was about the freckles that many an outguard had teased Sun for when Sun had been younger.The freckles, a starry sky across his nose and cheeks that spilled down to the top of his chest and even to the back of his neck, made Sun, already slender, already small, and, at the time, young, look even younger.
At not-quite eighteen, Sun had responded to the teasing with violence, leaping into fights he had often lost until he’d learned to fight better.Westin had heard about the conflicts before ever setting eyes on the Outguard’s wolfling, as the others had called him.In time, Sun had calmed, learned to understand teasing and camaraderie, and taken the lessons of the guard elders to heart, but still, he worried over more freckles, and so the hood stayed up.
It wasn’t the only area where the supposedly wild wolfling fussed over his appearance.He shaved regularly no matter where he was because his attempts to grow a beard hadn’t gone well, and wore tightly fitted clothes in and out of the capital that showed off the muscles in his arms and legs and the firm curves of his ass.
Old Lim had taught the wolfling patience, and how to get along with others, and that diplomacy was easier than challenging the entire country.The former weapons master had helped to hone Sun’s skills and make him a deadly creature.But Sun had learned how to dress and charm and present himself to win over others all on his own.
Westin had been an outguard for twenty years.He knew defenses when he saw them.He also knew not to poke at them.If Sun wanted to use his face and body to get what he needed, Westin was hardly going to challenge him about it.Anyway, Sun would probably laugh in his face if he tried, the biting, delighted laugh that put Westin in mind of sharp puppy teeth.
He’d last heard that laugh when he’d given in and left the road to follow Sun to the river, where Sun had already shed his clothes on the bank and vanished under the surface of the water.
Westin, far more cautious, had removed his boots and socks, rolled up his breeches, and sat on a higher portion of the riverbank to dangle his feet in the water.That was cooling enough for his dignity, and didn’t involve air drying on a riverbank or trying to put his clothes back on while damp.They were due to reach a village and an inn that evening.He could bathe there.
Nearly the very moment his feet were in the water and Westin was sighing at the blissful feel of cold water on overheated skin, Sun had popped up between his knees, merry at getting Westin to join him without even a pretense of an argument first.
Sun had doubtlessly watched Westin yearn for the river and taken it upon himself to win a debate Westin hadn’t known they were having.He’d directed his horse toward the river, slid from the saddle, and begun stripping his clothes off while Westin had watched like a mindless lump.
Once he’d won, getting Westin to the river and surprising him by starting up from the water, Sun had put his wet hands on Westin’s knees, pushed his way between them, and laughed up at him with mean delight before sliding his hands higher still.
No one was that hungry for Westin that they’d lure him to the water specifically to get undressed and get their hands on him, but Westin knew better than to argue with the brat.And he hadn’t wanted to, which Sun would have known.
