by Jaime Samms
A bend in the path snaked around a rise of ground to their left. With a yip, Fernforest jolted forwards, yanking the leash from Sunny’s inattentive grasp. In a heartbeat, the dog was out of sight around the corner.
“Ferny!” As Sunny rounded the curve, the woods opened up. Trees fell away to an opening of goldenrod, yarrow, and pearly everlasting. Moss covered the spaces between, and tufts of clubrush poked through the stony sections. At the far side of this new clearing, a small shack leaned slightly to one side, propped against the trunk of an impressive red pine.
“Huh.” Sunny approached the hut, where Fernforest was sniffing around the partially open door. His tail was up, though it waved reservedly, and his ears pricked forward. He smelled something that had him intrigued but not frightened or overly excited. So not a rodent. He’d be frantically hunting that down. Nor was it anything threatening, or he’d be much less relaxed.
“What do you smell, Ferny?” Sunny eased the shack door open, expecting to find the ramshackle building empty. Not so, and he stopped in his tracks. His gut twisted, accompanied by a leap in his heart rate and a flash of anger.
Lying on a cot in the far corner, illuminated by a spray of sunshine through a grubby window, sprawled a man. Long wavy hair of the darkest auburn, almost black, but with enough red as to appear almost burgundy, spread over his shoulders and chest. Old, moth-eaten afghans covered him from hips to knees, but his chest and legs were utterly bare and smudged with dirt. The soft rumble of snores accompanied the steady rise and fall of his chest.
His face made Sunny’s breath catch in his throat, a bubble of shocked awe.
Dark-as-night lashes made perfect, luxurious crescents on translucently pale skin. The pinkest of freckles dashed across his impossibly high cheekbones, nothing at all like the sprays of copper spots splashed over just about every scrap of Sunny’s own skin. His lips, drawn down in the slightest of frowns, were plump and perfect, the colour of sun-kissed wild roses. He was lean but not skinny. Yet. It was clear he hadn’t been eating well.
That detail curbed Sunny’s initial irritation at finding an interloper on his land.
Defined muscles didn’t quite fill out his skin as they should, and his ribs and collarbones stuck out more than looked healthy. One long, delicately boned arm dangled off the side of the cot, fingers trailing close to the floor.
The sunlight dawdled over him, making him seem fantastical and otherworldly. Sunny didn’t think he’d ever seen anything or anyone as perfectly lovely as the man sleeping in a shoddy hut on the edge of his new acreage. He couldn’t quite catch his breath. If he believed in such things, he might think an angel had landed in his forgotten little hunter’s hut.
Which was a ridiculous thought to have, and he was aware he should be a lot angrier at the trespass. For some reason he couldn’t put his finger on, the sleeping man, far from raising his ire, tugged at his sympathies instead.
“Hello?” Sunny whispered, reluctant in case any disturbance might cause the vision to fade.
Fernforest had no such compunction. He walked right over, sniffed the sleeping man’s face, and proceeded to lick his fingers until he stirred.
THE DREAM, as patchy as it was, didn’t hold the trepidation so many of his dreams had since Emikku had come here. It consisted mostly of the water sprites teasing and playing at fortune telling, splashing their mirth at the intended recipient of their message, who didn’t have a clue what the sprites were showing.
To be fair, water sprites were notorious for being imprecise with their messages even before they infused them with riddles and vague images.
Sunshine played about the edges of the dream, bouncing this way and that, flashing off golden skin and shining teeth, curly hair, and the flying, feathery coat of… the dog. Something wet flicked over his finger. The water sprites teasing again, splashing at him because they knew how he dreaded getting wet.
He waved them off, muttering, then started when something chilled dug into his ribs.
“Ah!” He jumped, shuffling to the back of his little nest and covering the spot. “No!”
He blinked into dusty sunlight.
Next to his cot, the dog watched him, head cocked.
“What are you doing here?” Emikku asked, staring back.
The dog’s tail whipped from side to side. His ears perked up and forward. He lolled his tongue out and smiled.
“I think, more to the point, what are you doing here?”
“Oh!” He pressed his back against the wall. There was no place else to go. Belatedly he realised the blankets he’d been using had slipped to the floor and he was crouched, naked, staring at the pretty blond man with the halo of curls and shards of sun in his eyes. “You,” he whispered.
“Me,” he agreed, expression wary. “Sunny. Who are you? Where are your clothes?” He glanced around the hut, but it was obviously empty but for the cot, the blankets, and him. The cupboard hung open, empty, and there was no place else to stash anything, including his dignity.
“Em….”
“Um?” Sunny cocked his head, much like his dog had done.
“Em-Emile,” he corrected, dredging up the one name he could remember from his research, thankful it was close enough to his own he would—probably—remember to respond to it. He glanced out the door past Sunny to see the creek flash on its merry way along the foot of the little rise just outside. “Côté. Emile Côté.” He held out a hand, dismayed when it shook and he couldn’t stop it.
Sunny stepped inside, picked up a blanket, and handed it to him. Once Emile had covered his lap, Sunny held out a hand. “Sunny Barklay. Why are you sleeping rough in my hunt shack? How did you get here?”
“Thiees iees yours?” He shook his head, knowing the words came out too stretched out and slippery. He had to get that under control or Sunny would know he wasn’t from here.
“Wow. You are really French.” Sunny let his hand drop.
French? He blinked. “Pardon?”
“You’re not from around here.”
Oh dear. “Erm. No. I guees no.”
Sunny drew in a deep breath. “Well. That’s…. Come on. You can’t stay here.” He shoved a hand into his curls, where it caught, making him wince and mutter something Emikku—Emile—wasn’t supposed to hear. He figured it was a curse, because Sunny scrubbed at his scalp a moment, then sighed and dropped his hand. “Yeah. You can’t stay here.”
“I… no?” His gut tightened. He didn’t have any place else to go. He had nothing and knew no one.
“Of course not.” Sunny frowned at the rickety walls. “I mean, it’s fine for now. It’s warm, but it won’t stay that way. And when it rains, I’m not so sure this place will keep you dry. And—” Sunny wiggled a hand at him. “No clothes. I mean….”
“Dry. Warm.” Emile glanced around the darkening hut. The sun was lowering enough it no longer streamed inside. “No.” He’d been very cold some nights, but the weather had warmed since he’d first arrived, so that wasn’t as much of a problem.
“Do you need a hand?”
“A… hand?” He tugged at the blankets. “To…?”
“A hand up.” Once more, Sunny held out his hand, and this time Emile remembered what that gesture meant, and he took it in his, shaking it up and down vigorously.
Sunny laughed, a lapis and shimmering sound, so bright and full of colour Emile had to close his eyes. The touch of skin on skin was quicksilver and lightning in his veins, intensified in the dark behind his lids. His heart skipped, and his skin came alive with need. His cock, horrifyingly, stiffened where it hid beneath the scratchy blankets.
It was like Sunny was magic personified. Emile snatched his hand back. “I sorry! I should—”
“No!” Sunny moved closer to the cot, crouched, and picked up the second blanket. “Here.” He draped the cover over Emile’s shoulders. His fingers brushed sensitised skin, sending a flutter of rose-and-periwinkle-hued shards up around them. Emile’s breath caught. Surely that little spurt of
magic escaping had been obvious.
He studied Sunny’s face, but the human seemed oblivious.
The dog, however, was hopping up on his hind legs, snapping at the dissipating sparks like he hoped to catch one.
“Ferny,” Sunny admonished softly. “Settle down.” He sighed, his face going still, almost blank. “You can see he’s fragile. Let’s just get him back to the house and we’ll figure out what’s next.” He turned to Emile. “Can you get up?”
“I—yees. Of course.” He unfolded his legs, pushed to the edge of the cot, stifling the uncertain twinge. It wasn’t uncommon that humans wouldn’t see the magic sparking. That much had been oft-reported in his research. It was disappointing, for reasons he didn’t have time right now to think about. He wobbled to his feet, steadying himself on the wall and offering a stiff smile.
“I can carry you,” Sunny offered. “You don’t look like you weigh that much.”
Emile was hunched, bringing his head close to the same height as Sunny’s, but if he straightened, he’d be easily a head taller. Still, he knew he was thin, and his shifter nature meant his bones were less dense—if stronger—than the average human’s. He’d found many studies on human physiology. He mostly didn’t want to know why, when the rest of human culture had been recorded so sparingly, it was easy to find information on the inner workings of the human body.
He knew his kind were not exactly known for being benevolent in human history and stories, but he didn’t like to think that maybe there was good reason for that. Though many scholars claimed human stories were exaggerated, Emile had seen plenty of evidence pointing to a past his people probably shouldn’t be proud of. That idea was enough to take care of his burgeoning erection.
“Is fine,” he assured Sunny. “I can walk. Just slow.”
“Slow it is.” Sunny beamed at him. “We have all afternoon. Come on.”
He motioned for Emile to precede him out the door, and Emile obliged, shivering with the warmth of Sunny’s hand at the small of his back.
Everything about this human called to him. His magic, his body, his essence. Surely that couldn’t end well. For either of them.
Chapter 3
EMILE. SUCH an old-fashioned name. Sunny watched his unexpected guest as he made his way down the narrow path. The blankets hid most of him, but spindly legs and a knobby arm still showed. Sunny’s fingers slipped through holes in the shifting afghan draped over Emil’s shoulders, and smooth, cool skin greeted his touch.
He caught his breath, his mouth going dry. The undulating protrusion of Emile’s spine seemed to heat as he grazed his fingers over it. A trickle of Emile’s long locks teased his wrist. Another breath caught in Sunny’s throat as a ripple of fire coursed over his skin. He almost yanked his hand back.
Emile stumbled, grunting and cursing softly as he pitched forward.
“Easy.” Sunny moved closer, flung an arm across Emile’s chest to stop his fall. “You okay?” He was so thin. I need to bring him into town. He needs a doctor. And clothes. Why doesn’t he have clothes? Sunny tangled the fingers of his free hand into his curls and tugged. The sharp pull focused him. Get him back to the house, clothed, fed. Find out what’s going on, then decide. Just help him first and worry about if I’m nuts later.
“Forgot how hard these is,” Emile grumbled, almost to himself.
Sunny barely heard the words. “I’m sorry, what? What’s hard?” he asked.
“Walk—that is….” Emile grunted and gripped the afghan tighter.
Sunny rounded in front of him, concerned. “Emile?”
“I….” Emile’s brow knit, but that was all of him Sunny could see, his head hung so low. His shoulders were rounded, his back bent. He projected a forlorn sadness that eclipsed the irritation Sunny might otherwise have felt at a stranger’s presence on his land.
Gently, Sunny lifted his chin. “What is it? How can I help? I have a phone at the house. We can call someone if you want?”
Emile blinked at him, and Sunny gasped. Out here in the sunlight, Emile’s eyes were an impossible colour; the deepest azure of a summer sky, but sharper, shining with inner flames of blue heat.
Then Emile blinked again, and Sunny saw past the glamour and sparkle to a distress that made it so hard for Sunny to breathe. He smoothed a thumb over Emile’s chin, drawing his attention.
“My feet,” Emile said at last. He pulled in a sharp breath and let it out with a huff. He straightened his shoulders, pulling himself up to reveal height Sunny hadn’t expected. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.” He dragged his face from Sunny’s light grip and took a few halting steps, face set against a grimace.
“Here.” Sunny kicked off his flip-flops and nudged them closer to Emile’s feet. “Put those on.” It was the least he could do, though he was sure that soul-deep hurt went a lot further than stone-bruised feet.
“No. I cannot.” Emile turned his brilliant eyes on Sunny again.
What little saliva Sunny had left vanished. Pinned by Emile’s bright, confused stare, he found it impossible to speak. Energy arched between them, and Sunny was possessed with an urge to kiss Emile so strong he’d leaned in for it before he caught himself.
Emile’s eyes flew wide, and he took a stumbling step away.
“I—” Heat flashed into Sunny’s cheeks. Fernforest whined and pressed against his legs. When Sunny glanced down, he found his dog in near contortions trying to stick to him and go to Emile at the same time. The poor animal was beside himself.
“Ferny likes you,” Sunny blurted, desperate for anything that might draw attention away from his inappropriate gesture.
It worked, because Emile looked down.
Fernforest calmed as they made eye contact. His tail beat a painful whipping tattoo against the back of Sunny’s calf, vulnerable where his cargo shorts didn’t cover. “It’s okay,” Sunny told the dog. “Relax.”
Emile smiled, his attention all on the dog now. “Be still, little one,” he said, bending to hold a hand out.
Fernforest calmed instantly, stretching his nose to touch Emile’s fingertips. He licked them, whined again, and leaned on Sunny. He plopped his butt in the dirt next to Sunny’s bare feet, tail sweeping the dry leaves aside on its slowed swing.
“He really likes you.” Sunny had to bend slightly to put his hand on the dog’s head, but the contact calmed his own heavy-beating heart, and he swallowed, relieved. The fierce protectiveness he’d felt for his new land since the moment he’d signed the papers eased in his chest. In a weird way, finding Emile here on his very first day made it feel like Emile was part of the land. Certainly, the twigs caught in his hair and the dirt smudged over most of his body indicated he’d been out here more than a few days already. Odd as it was when Sunny thought about finding a naked man in his old hut, Emile felt a part of the place.
“Fernforest is a notoriously good judge of character.”
“And I like him.” Emile knelt, already grubby knees picking up more dust. He scratched around the base of one of Fernforest’s ears. “Very much,” he said, directly to the dog. “You bring so much light.”
Fernforest cocked his head.
“He belonged to my mother.” Sunny furrowed his brow. Ferny was his dog now. He didn’t normally talk about his parents. Discomfited, he patted the dog’s head, energy sparking along his skin as his fingers came into contact with Emile’s. He gasped and stilled, hoping. The lightning sizzle came again as Emile caressed the backs of his fingers. For a moment—the space of a breath—their fingertips connected, held. Then Emile rose again. The touch trailed away. The sizzle faded, leaving behind a memory of heat and jumbled sensation.
“I am rested,” Emile announced. Carefully, he slipped his feet, oddly long and narrow, into Sunny’s shoes. His heels hung off the backs, but he smiled at Sunny anyway. “Thank you.”
“Oh.” Sunny’s heart faltered. He gulped. “It’s nothing.” He managed to get the words out, but it was a near thing before his breath deserted him. Emile’
s smile had the flutter of butterfly wings and flitting sunlight through the tree leaves around the edges. Like he was as nervous as Sunny felt.
Sunny echoed his expression as best he could, curling a smile past his nerves. “Let’s get you inside. Showered. Fed, maybe?”
Emile’s smile solidified into light itself. “Food would be….” He drew in a breath through his nose. “Yes. Wonderful. Thank you.”
“Then you can call whoever—”
“There is no one.” The flat finality of that twisted Sunny’s heart.
“I’m sorry.”
Emile pursed his lips, flared his nostrils, but twisted a forced smile back onto his face. “Don’t be. The choice has been made.” He turned to carefully pick his way along the uneven ground.
Unable to resist the desire to help, Sunny returned his hand to Emile’s back, low on his spine. He didn’t imagine the shudder that went through his strange guest as his fingers once more brushed cool, silky skin, and bit his lip. Perhaps he’d found the source of that eternally sad look in Emile’s gaze.
Chapter 4
AFTERNOON SUNSHINE, finally overcoming the ever-more-sparse cloud cover, sparkled down through the leaves overhead. It soaked into Sunny’s tanned skin only to shine out again whenever he smiled. Emile wanted more of those smiles, but it might seem awkward—not to mention obvious—twisting around to get a look at Sunny’s face every three steps. Instead, he followed the direction of the gentle pressure at his back. The heat of the touch sparked constantly, pricking at his magic until his skin rippled with the power.
He was a moth to Sunny’s irresistible glow. Sometimes the surges coming off Sunny clashed with his own magic, sometimes coupled with it in a strange push-me-pull-me dance of energy he found difficult to ignore. It pulled at his own magic in a way nothing and no one ever had before.