“Right.” Galahad’s head tilted. “Your grandfather was wingless, wasn’t he?”
“Yes. He died many years ago, though. He is not the ya’lah.”
“But he’s biologically your grandfather?”
“Of course. I have his eyes.”
Galahad felt his mouth curve, pieces fitting together for him. “You have his blood.”
It took Trystan a moment to catch up with that logic. “What?” He did a double-take. “Wait… what the hell are you talking about?”
“I remember where I heard the word before. Lyrssa said it to me.” He’d all but forgotten about it in the haze of everything else that happened that day. But now he saw the workings of some higher power guiding him to this very spot. “She said she saw the ya’lah on my path. I didn’t know what it meant.”
Now he did, though. It meant his True Love was the greatest hero in the world. That was awesome!
Trystan was shaking his head, seeing where this was going and already denying the awesomeness. Why did he always want to be a downer? “She meant that you would become the ya’lah, as you continued on your journey, knight.”
“No, she meant I’d meet you on my journey. Your grandfather was wingless and you have his blood. You are also a gryphon, and a Good person, and presently on a quest for the graal. This is your destiny, Trystan. It all fits!”
Trystan’s eyebrows compressed like he was having difficulty keeping up. “No, it doesn’t. You are the ya’lah. I have known since nearly the day we met. Why are we debating what is obvious?”
“You’re the ya’lah, Trystan.” Galahad repeated. He held up a hand when Trystan began to protest. “Stop and think about it.”
Trystan didn’t stop and think about it. “This is not…”
Galahad cut him off. “Stop and think about it.” He repeated. “Don’t entrench and argue with me. Just take a breath and process what I’m saying.”
“What you’re saying is crazy. Why should I process something crazy? You think I would not know if I was the ya’lah?”
“Do you think I wouldn’t know if I was the ya’lah?” Galahad retorted.
“I know you are!”
“I know you are!”
The two of them stood there, staring at each other for a long beat.
“We will both process this.” Trystan finally decided. “Then you will admit that I am right. You are not thinking clearly and need time to adjust to your great calling.”
Galahad rolled his eyes. “You need time to not be such a dumbass.”
Trystan disregarded that and pointed a finger at the mural of the temple. “This is what’s important, right now. How do we get here? This is the place where your map leads, yes? Where is it?”
“To the west, beyond St. Ives. On an island in the Moaning Sea.”
“There are no islands in the Moaning Sea. There is nothing in the Moaning Sea. That ocean is enspelled with icy magic that freezes all who touch it. Few beings alive could withstand the frigid waves.”
Galahad opened his mouth and then closed it, again. He cleared his throat.
Trystan stared at him for a long moment. “You’re impervious to freezing, aren’t you?”
“It’s not as weird as it sounds.” Galahad defended, raising his palms. “See there was this really nice yeti, who I helped out, right? And he gave me this…”
“No.” Trystan waved a hand, cutting him off. “I do not wish to know the details. I am still recovering from your last insane tale. We will just accept the fact that this is yet another ludicrous skill that you possess, but have not told me about.”
“Well, I told you I don’t need a coat.” Galahad defended.
Trystan shook his head in exasperation. “The point is, Atlantis is long gone. Even Fisher agreed with this. I remember him speaking of the land’s submergence.”
“Well, the map says there’s an island.” Galahad dug it out of his pocket and handed it to Trystan. “See for yourself.”
Trystan made a face at the lopsided sketch. “Fisher no doubt drew this, as well. He was not an entirely stable man. Most likely it’s a fabrication of his broken mind. …And a poorly rendered one at that.” Trystan just couldn’t stand to be optimistic. It was like an allergy or something. “The old man spoke of hearing his dead mate.” Trystan gave a vague shrug. “Of finding the Looking Glass Pool by accident and then leaving a trail for others to follow. I did not understand it all.”
“Did he say anything specific that might help us find the graal?”
Trystan rubbed his forehead. “It was over twenty years ago. I was a child. I do not remember all the words precisely. But on the last night he lived he told me to follow a dream and then…” He floundered for a beat, like he was trying to accurately translate something that didn’t quite make sense into Galahad’s language. “‘When your dream follows you, it should look down.’”
“Look down?”
“Not at the horizon.” Trystan pointed at the floor as if unconsciously mimicking a gesture that Fisher had made. A slow, deliberate sweep of his index finger. “Down.”
Uh-oh.
“So… this gryphon temple is underwater?” Galahad surmised with a concerned frown.
“This would be my guess.”
“Then how did Fisher see the Looking Glass Pool?”
“I do not know. As I said, his words never made much sense. But, if Listeneise still stood above the waves, someone would have surely seen it by now. We may be too late.”
“No.” Galahad didn’t accept that. “I hear the dead gryphons whispering to me…”
“You are finally ready to admit this?” Trystan interjected smugly. “I knew that was happening, all the way back at the snake tomb. I told you so.”
Galahad kept talking. “…and I don’t think they’d bother if this was all bullshit. I think they’re trying to help me on my mission. And I don’t think Lyrssa would send me on this path without a purpose. She told me to find Atlantis.”
“Fine.” Trystan said, which meant he agreed and was on board with the plan. Galahad was getting much better at translating Trystan-ese. “I suppose the only way to be sure of the map’s veracity is to check for ourselves, then.”
“Yeah?” Galahad grinned.
“Yeah.” Trystan sighed and handed the map back to him. “Shit. Now I am hunting for a mythic treasure. You really do cause me no end of problems, knight.”
Galahad folded it up again. “Well, it’s your duty to fix problems for me, isn’t it?” He asked casually. All in all, he was pleased with how well this was going. At this rate, they could find the graal, lift the curse, and be back in Camelot in time for Avi’s birthday.
“Did I agree to fix your problems?” Trystan went back to memorizing the mural. “I might as well agree to move the desert, one grain of sand at a time. I must have been out of my mind with desire for you, if I said such a thing. It does not count.”
“I agreed to it when I was out of my mind with desire, actually. You very specifically told me that you’re the only one who’s supposed to be caring for me. I said ‘yes’ to that idea, along with everything else.”
Trystan’s head snapped around. “You choose to be in my care?” From his tone, it sounded like that was another one of those important, gryphon-y rituals that Galahad didn’t fully understand.
“Aren’t I already in your care? You sure say it enough… hey!” He broke off in surprise as Trystan seized hold of him. “What the hell, man?” Galahad didn’t struggle as he was dragged backwards and pinned against the mural, but he did frown in exasperation. “Why can we never have a normal conversation?”
Trystan stared down at him intently. He looked even more focused on this discussion than he’d been on the hunt for the graal. “Gwen claims you as her brother.”
“Uh-huh…” Galahad’s eyebrows went up. “I claim her as my sister, so it works out fine.”
Trystan gave his head a shake. “Gwen put you in my care. That is my point. I protect you as he
r proxy. You did not choose me. You have said you wished to be free of my custody. Many times.”
“Well, you can be a little overprotective.” Galahad defended. “How many ugly hats have you made me wear since we met?”
Trystan didn’t seem to hear that. “Without your consent, I will have to withdraw my care of you, once I return you to Gwen.” He shifted closer and one hand slammed out, impacting the wall beside Galahad’s head. “I will have no more duty to watch over you, unless you grant it to me.”
Galahad’s eyes went to the massive tattooed arm and then back up to Trystan’s taut face. Holy shit. The man typically was a perfect gentleman, asking permission before they even touched. Now, he was aggressively boxing Galahad in, his hard body radiating heat and dominance. This was unexpected and kind of awesome. Galahad ran the conversation through his Trystan-translator and began to make sense of things.
“You will have no more right to watch over me.” He rephrased quietly.
Trystan’s jaw ticked. “Technically, this is correct.”
“And that worries you?”
“Gryphons do not worry. Often. It is merely an irritating fact that occurs to me several times an hour. You will be dead within days, without proper care.”
“And only you can give that care to me, I’m guessing.”
“Yes.” His head dipped down to Galahad’s ear, his voice a dark rumble. “Gwen put you in my care… But, now you must choose to remain there. That would give me the rights I desire. Rights that should belonged to no other. Rights that are mine.”
“Okay.” Galahad breathed.
“Okay?”
“Okay, I’ll choose to remain in your care.” He met Trystan’s gaze. “It seems to make sense. Who else could care for me like you do?”
Trystan’s eyes burned hot. “No one.” It was a quiet vow. “No one else in the world could care for you as I do.”
Galahad shined a smile at him. “I believe you.”
“You give yourself to me too easily.” Trystan warned in a dazed voice, like he was shocked at how simple it was. “I am not as kindhearted as you, knight. I will take everything that you offer and perhaps more.”
“If I’m in your care, you’ll just have to watch out for me, then.”
“All I do is watch you.”
Galahad shifted his hips forward, so they brushed against Trystan’s. “Have you noticed that you have me trapped against this wall, then?” He asked conversationally.
“I like you there.” Trystan seemed right on the edge of control, his body rock hard and demanding.
“So you’re not going to let me go?”
“Not yet.” Trystan caught hold of his wrist, dragging it down. “First I will have more.”
Galahad’s breathing grew harsher as Trystan’s hand held his palm over his manhood, pressing his fingers to show him what he wanted. Galahad could feel the heat of him right through the fabric. “Soooo… caring for me means I’m your sexual hostage, then? Hopefully.” Because, he kinda loved that idea.
“Caring for you means I see that you are safe and protected.” Teeth grazed Galahad’s neck hard enough to leave a scratch. Galahad’s body shuddered in response, tilting his head to accept the mark. “Holding you captive until your hand eases me is a separate issue, knight.”
Galahad certainly wasn’t going to argue. His hand rubbed over Trystan’s arousal, giving a low sound of appreciation at the size. “You really are… big.” Gleaming blue eyes met Trystan’s, curious and hot. “Are you sure you’re going to fit, when we finally have sex?”
The question seemed to kick Trystan’s desire into an even higher gear. “Very soon, you will take all of me.” It was somewhere between an order and a reassurance, his stance becoming more forceful. “I will hold you beneath me… And I will touch your untouched body in places no one else ever has… And when you are ready, I will push deep inside of you, again and again, until neither of us knows where we end and the other begins… And then I will finish deep within you, marking you as mine and mine alone… And you will like it all. Understand?”
“Yes.” Galahad bobbed his head, dazed. “I’ll give you more than just touching, right now. If you’re ready to say ‘yes’ I’ll sleep with you, right now.”
Trystan hesitated, his breath sawing in and out, like that was exactly what he wanted. “No.” He decided anyway. “Not yet.”
“Not yet” was another one of his favorite things to say. “Why?”
“I am… uncertain what would happen afterwards.”
Galahad wasn’t sure what that meant. What could possibly happen after sex that would change Trystan’s mind about him? That Galahad wouldn’t be good at it, maybe? That didn’t seem like a Trystan concern.
But if his True Love wasn’t ready to sleep with him, then Galahad could wait.
“Okay.” He agreed. “Have I mentioned Corrupted by the Winged Devil takes place in a cave? I’m not as good at scripting scenes as you are, but I’m confident I can draw on it as inspiration for all kinds of fun, third-base activities.”
“Actually, in my culture…” Trystan stopped short and Galahad glanced up at him.
“Yeah?”
“Um…” Trystan cleared his throat, hunting for words, again. “In my culture, using hands on each other has more significance that it does to the wingless. It is sometimes not even done between mates. It is very… intimate.”
Galahad blinked at that news. “You already did it to me.”
“Oh, I remember. Trust me.”
“And you didn’t tell me it was some super-special thing to do in your culture?”
Trystan’s head tilted, like the question confused him. “Everything I do with you is special. Because you are special.”
Galahad smiled at the simple explanation. “Well, I still owe you that boon, right?” His hand massaged the front of Trystan’s pants. “You want to try this very intimate, very special, very satisfying thing with me, right now?”
“Gods, yes.” Trystan’s knuckles tipped Galahad’s chin up, so he could languidly kiss him. “Only with you.”
Trystan really liked kissing. And Trystan was really good at being really good at things he really liked. His kiss was deep and slow and possessive. Galahad’s mouth opened to give him access and Trystan drank his fill. Being the sexual hostage of this man was a dream job.
Trystan gave a low moan as Galahad kissed him back without reservation. “This will be over too quickly, knight. Having your hand on me is erotic enough, but your game has also put thoughts of the War into my head. I envision having you back then, as I have you now, and it is very appealing.”
“Didn’t you say you wanted to torture me to death during the War?”
“Obviously. You were a vexing opponent.” His palm slipped to the zipper of Galahad’s coat, tugging it down. “But first I would have captured you, intent on extracting information and prolonging your suffering.”
Galahad snorted. “Sounds very romantic.” He deadpanned.
“And once I had you in my grasp and began speaking with you… Once I saw your eyes and your smile and the brightness of your ideas… I would not have been able to hurt you.” Trystan stripped Galahad’s coat off, his hands slipping under his shirt and running over the thick muscles of his chest in appreciation.
Galahad struggled to breathe. “You sure about that?”
“I have never been more sure of anything. I would have kept you for my own, even if I had to shackle you to my bed.” His head dipped to lick Galahad’s ear, his mouth curving when Galahad jolted in response. “There would have been no other option.”
He would not have had to shackle Galahad to keep him. Once he saw Trystan, Galahad would have been fighting to stay with him and Galahad never lost a fight.
“Maybe I would have refused to consent to your barbarous ways and you’d have to keep your hands to yourself.” Galahad retorted, just to tease him. “Gryphons only take willing people to their villages, right? Didn’t you tell me that?”<
br />
“Of course.” Trystan agreed seriously. “We keep our captives until they are willing.”
Galahad bit the inside of his cheek to suppress his laugh. “That’s very fair.”
Trystan obviously thought so, too. “Sometimes it takes a bit of adjustment, but in your case…” He shrugged, his hands continuing to caress Galahad’s skin. “I am confident I could have won you over to the idea of easing me within a matter of hours.”
“Yeah, I really do suck at playing hard-to-get, don’t I?”
“I do not mind.” His expression was filled with all kinds of beautiful emotions. “Tell me again you are in my care. I like to hear it.”
“I’m in your care, Trystan. No one else’s.” Galahad’s palm tightened on Trystan’s hardness, ready to turn the tables. “Do you agree to be in my care, too?”
Trystan let out a hissing breath. His jaw clenched, instinctively thrusting deeper into Galahad’s grip. “In your care? Lyrssa, you’d kill me within the week.”
“Is that a yes?” Galahad traced the shape of Trystan through his pants, admiring his size. “Because, I can stop…” He pretended to draw his hand back.
“No.” Trystan grabbed his wrist, holding it still. “I am in your care. I would have no other. I swear it.”
Galahad grinned at him, triumphant and cocky. “You’re such a pushover.”
Trystan’s expression went taut. “When you smile at me like that, I cannot think straight. You know this.”
“I do know it.” Galahad agreed in mock apology. “I’m a Bad guy, sometimes. I told you, it’s in my nature. He shifted positions before Trystan understood what was happening. He slid sideways, twisting left, so he was on the other side of Trystan’s body and spun him around. He pushed Trystan backward against the mural, satisfied the man was trapped and at his mercy.
“So, should we bet on who really would’ve been the captive during the War?” Galahad asked with an arch look.
Trystan stared down at him in surprise. “What are you doing?” He was used to being the aggressor. Having someone else in control seemed to confuse him. It also excited him, if the swelling of his erection was any indication.
Best Knight Ever (A Kinda Fairytale Book 4) Page 33