Page 68 of Close Quarter
Heat spread up Rhys's face. "I should know that. Quintet. Quintuplets."
"Yes." Silas kissed him on the cheek. "Mine was the fifth family of our court. Or so they said."
"Quintus Silvanus," Rhys said, tasting the name on his lips. It didn't sound quite right. "I prefer Silas Quint."
"So do I." Silas laid his head down on Rhys's shoulder. "So do I."
They lay for several minutes, wrapped in each other's arms, bathed in the light of the western sun, the ocean the only voice on the wind until Silas spoke again.
"Tell me how it is that you developed such wisdom in only twenty-eight years?" He nuzzled Rhys's neck.
Wisdom?"About the vampire?"
"Yes."
Rhys rolled a lock of Silas's hair between his fingers. He wasn't wise at all. "It's not me. It's you. All the stuff you know. That Anax-bastard just rattles you too much for you to see it."
Silas pressed against Rhys. "It's a problem."
His tight voice barely rose above the sound of the waves.
"Yeah. But we'll work it out." Rhys found Silas's lips, kissed him deeply. Silas shifted, and his hard shaft pushed against Rhys's thigh. "Want me to do something about that?" Rhys spoke against Silas's lips.
Silas hummed. "Everything I want to do to you at the moment requires far less clothing, higher furniture, and a shower afterwards."
Pinpricks traveled outward from Rhys's stomach, raising the hairs on his arms. Amazingly his cock stirred too. "We could go back to your cabin."
"That thought had occurred to me." Silas kissed Rhys's neck, and hands found the ticklish spot on Rhys's side under his arm. "And I am sore tempted. But I think we should remain in the sun."
The vampire. The flame of desire dwindled.
"It's never come out before dark before?"
"I've never known any soulless to walk in daylight. I don't know how Anaxandros could."
The vampire had still burned in the sunlight, felt pain from those burns. That had been plain in the snarl the creature gave when it tried to reach Rhys. "There're stories about really old vampires being able to walk in the day."
"The old ones are hard to destroy. That very well might be the case." Silas's desire had deflated too.
Pity. But Silas was right. Better to stay in the light and plan rather than fuck in the shadows and get eaten. "Will your sword work against it?"
"Yes. The Messengers would not have sent me here unarmed."
Of course not. They were angels. Rhys shifted, caught Silas's head in his hands, and made Silas look at him. "They also wouldn't have sent you here if there wasn't hope of success, Silas."
Silas squirmed against the truth. Sighed. "A fool's hope."
"More than that." Silas tried to look away, but Rhys held him fast. He stroked a thumb over Silas's cheek. "Listen to me."
"I am listening. I'm no match for Anaxandros.
There's only one fae who might have been."
"Might have been?"
"He died hunting daemons."
Oh.The thought of Silas hunting daemons froze Rhys's veins. He shuddered. "I'm here."
