by V. C. Willis
I get it. I’m a big guy, and our knees are shit.
They lunged forward, wide swings from both sides, one high and one low. Shit, I can’t dodge…
Without thinking, I threw my arm with the manica into the crossing swings. Circling like I had before, the redirect made them lock into one another. Leaning my shoulder into it, the pauldron forced the blades toward them, and they pulled away. As I ran past, I dropped low and kicked Valiente’s legs out from under him as Red Wine scrambled to avoid him a second time.
“Fuck!” he shouted. “Son of a…”
Red Wine chuckled, coming to her feet. “Okay, okay, that’s enough. You can dodge just fine apparently. It’s so hard with you tossing us into one another but a great tactic.”
We all stood, exchanging glares at one another, the daylight dimming with warm hues among the trunks of towering red pines. I inhaled deeply, holding it to slow the pounding in my chest, and at last, exhaled.
I can’t believe it I can move like this with all the added weight and already tired. This wasn’t a lesson of dodging but one for me to realize how strong I have become.
Sweat dripped from everyone’s chin, all but Red Wine who seemed the only one not winded from the explosion of energy.
“You’re a monster.” Valiente sheathed his sword and looked Sonja over. “I can’t believe you shoved the Princess to the ground like that.”
Sonja cupped her cheek and confessed, “Actually he did it alarmingly fast and gently … even apologized.”
John gave me a skeptical glare, fussing, “Yet you throw the knight into the assassin like scraps to the dogs.”
Shrugging at his comment, I inspected the marks on the manica, pleased to see they weren’t deep nor anything I couldn’t buff out like on a saddle. “I like this thing.”
“Exactly what made you ask for it?” Red Wine picked up her throwing knife.
“It was the blacksmith’s wife’s idea.” I shifted the claymore, the weight on my left knee throbbing still. “Did everyone aim for the same knee on purpose?”
They looked at one another before all eyes fell on Red Wine.
“Well, did it work? I told them to aim for it before getting within earshot.” She crossed her arms. “How’s that knee feeling?”
“Like shit,” I scoffed.
John grabbed his jacket, sheathing his rapier. “It’s late. Let’s eat, bathe, and steel ourselves for tomorrow’s troubles. May the Fates that have brought us to these crossroads see us safe to our ordained stations. Sobeit.”
“Save your prayers for those who deserve them.” Red Wine sounded bitter as she marched out of the old mill.
John looked to me, and I threw out my arms. “I have no idea. There’s a lot I haven’t pieced together about her.”
“I see.” He smiled to himself for a moment and looked to Princess Sonja. “Well, I’ll see you in the morning, Mother Superior?”
“Y-yes.” She looked to Valiente, and he gave a knowing nod. “We need to do some planning, and we’ll see you all at dawn.”
John nodded, and I followed obediently. Marching back into Leifseid, I had fallen back into the bodyguard assassin. No one looked my way. The only words exchanged were those with John as he stopped and gave grace to those asking and prayers for many who greeted him. Occasionally I’d earn a side glance or a knowing nod, but in the end, I was the thing that followed the priest like a haunting shadow.
Is it wrong that I wish secretly that this could be our life? To simply follow him, watch him be the priest he always aimed to be and bring smiles and hope to the people he encounters.
Chapter 21
Confessions
“Two for a bath.” The innkeeper looked at John and me.
“You two look like you went rolling in the mud with the pigs.” He pinched his nose, pushing back half the fee. “It’s on me since you might die tomorrow.”
John swiped the money and marched off without a word. I followed hot on his heels, and we both disappeared behind the locked door. Unlike the bathhouse in Tavern Way, this one was well organized, everything marked and clean. There were fresh clothes offered, cloth to dry with, and the tub was filled with clean water with a fire to keep the water warm. John leaned on the tub, staring down into the water as if hoping his reflection would say something.
“What’s wrong?” My voice came out as a whisper, some part of me afraid to know.
“Were you always that monstrous?” John grimaced, staring at my reflection in the water. “Never mind that. I suppose you were always the stronger one. I didn’t mean…”
Placing a hand on his shoulder, he turned, and I kissed him. Pulling back, I at last whispered, “I will become whatever I must in order to protect what I love.”
John pulled me into him, his kiss deepening. Tongues rubbing against one another, the sweet flavor of his blood filled my senses. Moaning, I sucked on his tongue, hungry for him in every manner physically possible.
I want him. To devour. To love. To have always. This is all I will ever want in this life is to be in his arms … to hold him in my own.
Pulling away, I searched those blue gems that had jolted me the first time they ever met my own eyes. The Fates have brought us together. The gods have sanctioned this—they must have. If I am to love and protect him, then … Sobeit.
“What thoughts I wonder lay just behind those maroon eyes of yours,” he muttered.
Twisting away from him, I started to unbuckle my gear. “Does it matter?” The claymore thunked to the floor, my jacket on top as I began pulling at the buckles on my arm. “What if I made silent vows to follow you to the ends of this world?” The manica fell heavily as the last buckle came loose across my chest. “Would you stop me?”
“No,” John whispered, unbuttoning his own blouse, pulling his belt free.
Our gazes were locked as we undressed before one another. “And if I was willing to forsake my birthright, what would you say then?”
“I’d prefer to follow you on that path than the lies I’ve been fed for ten years,” he confessed, John’s body free of clothes as he leaned back against the tub.
“Ah, so you’d throw away your life’s dream to become a prince’s consort?” The last of my leather gear and weapons hit the floor, the vibrations of it loud under my bare feet.
“What if I confess…” He paused, searching my face a moment before continuing, “…that the day I left, I had changed my mind already?”
“I thought I hid my feelings from you,” I admitted, fingers working nimbly to unbutton the last stitch of clothes on my torso.
“I didn’t care if you felt the same,” John said sternly. “I wanted to protect you. Find some answer to the Madness, the Fanged Lady, and even how to defeat Falco. The only place I knew that might have it was The Church.”
At last, my shirt and pants joined the heap at my feet. “Then tell me,” I started, closing the gap between us until John was pinned between the tub and me. “Tell me what it is that you wish in life, so that I can be the driving force to make it happen,” I demanded.
“To be the Prince’s Priest.”
John kissed me as if it was the first time all over again.
It was slow, intimate, and made my heart race like nothing had ever done. To feel his flesh under my own, the rise and fall of the branding on his back under my hands only added to the longing I could never shake. That old ache in my heart and soul swelled, and I acted on it. Kissing and licking at his neck, and much to my horror … my fangs sank into his neck.
So hungry.
John moaned, his fingers gripping the hair on my head and holding me there, encouraging me to not stop. I want to devour him. My blood rushed and I latched on harder, earning a grunt.
“Don’t stop…” he rasped.
I swallowed deep long gulps. He tastes so sweet. My body was on fire. Feeding
on John wasn’t enough. I want more of him. I want all of him. Releasing my bite, I licked at the wound I had made. Kissing it, I continued to suckle my way across his collarbone, down his chest, before running my tongue back to the open flesh. John slid away from me, the sound of the water slapping against the tub bringing me back from the feral state. Gripping my wrist, he pulled me in, the water spilling over the edge as we sank into the steaming liquid.
I couldn’t break my gaze on the blood rising from the open wound, trickling down his chest. Licking a fang, I was back to sucking on the sweet red ambrosia that poured from him. Gliding my hand down the center of John’s body, I pushed my thigh between his legs. A grunt escaped John as I wrapped my fingers firm around his hardened length. He tilted his hip, moaning, and I lost the fight with my desire; fangs dove back into the open wound, the hunger and lust for his body overwhelming.
The taste of him, the feel of him, the way he smells and moans and … so sweet on the tongue no matter where I choose to taste him. I can’t stop. I won’t stop… He won’t let me this time…
Another moan escaped him. “Dante…” His fingers pressed hard into the muscles of my back. “I’m yours,” he reassured me, and I broke away, alarmed.
My back connected with the far side of the tub, water pushed upward, slapping across the ground and a shelf. “That’s enough,” I panted, rubbing the blood from my chin. “I’ve taken more than enough…” Twisting, I reached for a small towel and inched closer to press down on the fang marks. “I’m—”
“I’m sorry.” His hand covered my own as John brushed hair from my forehead. “You ran away to avoid this fate, and here we are right where you didn’t want to be on my behalf. It’s not fair what I did to you.”
“I can’t run away for my legacy forever. At least, it was done in a way that I chose for it and not forced upon me.” I raised the towel and winced, pressing back down with eyes shut tight. “Next time pull me off if I get aggressive.” Scowling, my heart raced with the rising anxiety. “I lose myself every time, more and more. This can’t be safe.”
John pulled my forehead against his own, grinning as I opened my eyes. “We decided to travel this path together. Never forget that … so stop running ahead without me. Unlike Ashton, we’re doing this together, and I don’t mean just the two of us by ourselves either.”
Peeking under the bloodied towel, I was relieved to see the bleeding had stopped. “That’s going to be impossible to hide…” Sighing, I rung the blood from the towel. “What if they search you for…”
“I think that will be the least of our concerns. We’ll have to try to get to the church library in secret. Perhaps there’s a way through the catacombs themselves.” John pushed the towel away when I tried to place it back over the bite. “We’ll blame that on Falco if needed.”
It pained me to think of it, but I couldn’t find any words to refuse the concept.
“Stop fretting over me, my prince.” He exhaled and leaned back into the tub, throwing his head back, eyes shut. “Let us enjoy the last peaceful evening we’ll get for a while, no?”
I couldn’t break my stare from the wound. Falco used to leave those same marks on me… Shaking the thoughts from my head, I began scrubbing myself, unwilling to break from the guilt. Without warning, John’s foot smacked the center of my chest.
“Stop glaring at it.”
My face flushed, and I shoved his foot off. “I wasn’t,” I lied, pulling myself up and out of the tub. “Shit, I need to clean some of this. Everything I wear is some sort of halter or armor.” Hands on hips, I stood dripping over the heap of equipment. “Do we have any mink oil and scrub in the…” Looking over my shoulder, John had one eye open staring at me with a sheepish grin. “You’re the worst priest ever.”
“Saint,” he corrected. “So, I’ll have to do some research on what this marking means. Wonder if Bishop Montgomery knows anything.”
“Last I recalled, Saints were martyrs to the Church’s cause.” Snorting, I began unraveling my braid. “And you’re very much alive, so that makes you quite the anomaly for a Saint.”
“By the heavens and hells that keep us here.” He sank down into the tub, submerging completely before popping back up with a splash. “Why did I never ask about the branding other than insisting on you holding me down for the thing?”
Shaking my hair loose, I came over to the tub and dunked my head into the water, scrubbing before coming up to meet him nose to nose. “Some part of me suspects that your mind was lusting after things no priest is allowed to have.”
John’s cheeks turned red, and I pulled away before he could reach for me. “You tease, Dante.”
“Do I?” I smirked, leaving the guilt behind and letting the tension fade. “If you behave, I’ll redo your braid upstairs.” Drying my hair in the towel, I crouched over my gear and began cleaning various pieces.
“Did Grandpa really leave those scars on your body?” John hadn’t asked me about it, and nostalgia rolled through me.
If he sees these, he’s going to give me an earful and chase me to my grave. I smiled, the Old Farmer’s words echoing in my mind. “He was stronger than any teacher I ever had growing up. But honestly, they would be gone if I had bothered to cover them with salve or shirt while tending to the fields.”
John abandoned the tub, towering behind me as the water tapped against the floor. “These three are deep.” His finger traced one over my right shoulder blade and sent goosebumps over my skin. “What happened there? They don’t look like a sword cut.”
“Wow, I forgot all about that.” Blinking, memories came rushing back to the third summer spent on the farm. “There was a bear that got into the pigs. The old man was asleep that night, but I heard the commotion and thought I was big boy enough to handle it alone.”
“A bear?” He walked away, and I could breathe again. “I don’t remember ever coming across one before.”
“Later, come to find out, there was a fire in the Moaning Forest of Wayward Souls to the west and drove a lot of animals to the farm. In fact, we had an abundance of game to make up for the loss, but the vermin were near impossible to keep out of the stores, cabin, and decimated the crops that year. Who knew rabbits could be so ravenous?”
John chuckled, drying off. “Yeah, I’ve had to climb in a burrow once for Grandpa. Still got a scar on my knuckle where one bit me.”
We laughed, both hiding the mournful thoughts of how much we missed the farm, the old man, and more importantly, the life we were forced to abandon. Our days of dreaming about living out our pitiful lives on the land had been gone for some time. The smell of freshly broken dirt, the squeak of the water pump, and thud of the hoe were nothing but distant memories. Blood, sweat, and tears now covered the faces all around.
“Sorry. I know it’s not easy for you,” I whispered, looking at the branded back of the youth who had become a hard-muscled man. “Not being there in time to see him off to the next life.”
“That’s why I left you there,” he replied, grabbing up his shirt. “I’ve entrusted all things I hold dear to you … including my heart and life. It’s exactly the same payment you’ve given me since that snow-laden day I found you. You gave me everything you had to offer, and I realized, I wanted to do the same the day I left.”
“Why do we do this…” I flustered, brushing the dirt and mud off my gear, and I began dressing. “Constantly circling back to saying sorry, to reminiscing to what could have been, or worse, reminding one another how much we’ve given each other?”
He huffed, and after a long pause, answered, “Because we were too stubborn to say it all to begin with. Just making up for all that lost time, I suppose.”
Freezing, I blinked a few times before agreeing, “I guess we have so many unspoken confessions of love, loss, and regrets.”
“Something like that,” he admitted. “Enough of this. We need to eat and sleep.
”
Always needing the last word, but it’s just an easy way for me to go silent when I please to do so.
Chapter 22
Salvation Road
John tugged on the straps and buckles of my armor, tightening two by one notch and making me grunt. The priest’s high-collared jacket hid the bandaged bitemark. He should have stopped me… If John was sore, he didn’t dare let it be known in movement or make a sound to reveal it. Stubborn. Downstairs, I left him to eat breakfast with Sonja as I prepped the horses with Red Wine and Valiente. No one said a word to one another, nor did the locals seem their cheerful selves. None of us wanted to point out the problem already presenting itself as the first light hit Leifseid. Where the hell did the fog go?
Basque took the carrot I offered and stood still for my preparations. I had spent the last of my own gold on armor for him, though it had needed adjusting due to his size. As for the supplies, we packed lighter and sparingly. If we could break into a full gallop from here to Captiva City, it would take half a day to get to the gates. Unfortunately, we were going to have to take Salvation Road, and rumors had come in that the Berserk Brigade had setup a checkpoint no one could come near without being killed or wounded. Worse, the Madness had increased on the main road to the point attacks were on the rise.
Leather and sweat filled my nostrils. Everyone had fretted over their gear last night and even this morning to a point of near obsession. Did any of us sleep at all besides the assassin? Does she even sleep? Red Wine’s body language didn’t hold any signs of stiffness from the sobering realization we were riding into an active warzone. In fact, she hummed and seemed light on her feet. She was a champion for a time, right? Or did I make that assumption?
“Are we still going through with this without the cover of fog?” I couldn’t ignore the unspoken concern among us any longer.
“Well, we can’t wait any longer,” she declared, checking Biscuit’s saddle straps. “With fog, I don’t think we would have gotten much farther. On a clear morning such as this, both sides have lost the chance of a pre-emptive strike, but we’ll have to square off evenly. Don’t worry, Half-pint. My goal is simply to get both of your princesses to safety. Speaking of which…”