The Dragon's Devotion (Chronicles of Tournai Book 5)

by Antonia Aquilante

  Bastien stared at him, looking almost as surprised, which made no sense since he had come to Corentin. Bastien blinked. “I hope I’m not intruding. I thought I’d take a chance and see if you were in.”

  Bastien had said something similar about intruding last night as well. Corentin wouldn’t have him thinking he ever could. “Not at all. Come in. Let me finish dressing, and we can go out for an early dinner if you like.”

  Bastien walked inside as soon as Corentin stepped back from the door. “I think I’d rather this.”

  He grabbed the front of Corentin’s dressing gown and pulled them together. Corentin stumbled slightly in shock, landing heavily against Bastien, but Bastien didn’t seem to mind. He whirled them around and pushed Corentin back against the hastily closed door. Corentin drew in breath to speak, but before he could, Bastien’s lips covered his and they sank into a long, deep kiss.

  Corentin had always enjoyed kissing, the intimacy and connection of it, the way it could be pure anticipation or an end all in itself. But kissing Bastien was something else entirely, something more. He would be happy to spend another evening entirely on kisses if Bastien wished, but as Bastien’s hands burrowed under his dressing gown, it didn’t seem that was what he had in mind. And Corentin was rather pleased about that too.

  He let his hands wander, pushing at Bastien’s cloak until it hit the floor, diving under layers of clothing to get to flesh. He’d explored all of Bastien last night, learning him, learning what pleased him, and still it wasn’t enough. He needed Bastien out of his clothes, needed more of the feel of Bastien against him.

  Bastien stretched up and nibbled along Corentin’s jaw, and took his earlobe between his teeth, worrying it as fire raced through Corentin. Corentin whispered, roughly, “Bed, now.”

  “We could stay here.” Bastien pressed tighter to him, thrusting just a little.

  Corentin groaned. “We could, but I want you in bed with far fewer clothes on both of us.”

  Bastien looked likely to argue so Corentin kissed him again, hard and deep, breaking it off only to kiss and lick and bite lightly at Bastien’s neck. He grinned at Bastien’s moan.

  “Yes, all right, bed.”

  Corentin laughed and gave Bastien a push toward the bedchamber. Bastien went, but with a little shake of his head, he grabbed Corentin’s hand, towing him along. Corentin’s laughter softened into something far more affectionate. He didn’t need to be urged along—he’d have followed right behind Bastien—but he liked Bastien’s playfulness. Whenever he’d thought of their night together, he’d also remembered how weighed down Bastien had been when he arrived at Corentin’s door. Seeing Bastien lighter made Corentin’s heart soar.

  But he should also remember what Bastien had told him that morning. Bastien would be looking for a wife one day; Corentin couldn’t let his feelings turn into something deeper.

  He refused to think that they might already have.

  Bastien tugged him forward, turning him and giving him a little push of his own, so Corentin bounced onto the edge of the bed.

  “Get that dressing gown off.” Bastien began removing his own clothing as he spoke, fingers working quickly.

  “In a hurry?” Perversely, Corentin took his time slipping the dressing gown from his body.

  Bastien glared, his gaze sparking with heat. He was bare to the waist already with one boot in his hand. “Yes. As soon as I saw you standing there in nothing but that dressing gown, I’ve been impatient to have my hands all over you.”

  Heat washed through him, greediness following in its wake. He wanted Bastien, and that want seemed to grow every time they were together. He stood, letting the dressing gown slide the rest of the way down his arms, and tossed it aside. Then he lay down on the bed, stretching out and smiling up at Bastien in as wicked a way as he could. “Come have me, then.”

  Bastien groaned and tore off the last of his clothes. He fell on Corentin as if he were as greedy and starving as Corentin himself felt. They kissed, long and deep again, devouring each other in a clash of lips and tongues and teeth. Bastien’s hands were everywhere, touching and exploring, setting off little fires in their wake, and Corentin was happy to let himself be consumed by the flames.

  Bastien raised his head. His hair was mussed from Corentin’s hands, his lips red and kiss-swollen. Beautiful. Corentin wanted to kiss him again and again.

  “Can I? Have you?” Bastien asked.

  The question sent a little jolt through Corentin. But of course, Bastien was only asking about here in this bed this evening, not anything more. Not anything permanent. Bastien couldn’t, which was for the best. Corentin ignored the disappointment that dragged at him. “Yes. Yes.”

  He’d thought Bastien beautiful before, but the grin that transformed his face took Corentin’s breath.

  The oil they’d put to use last night still sat out on the nightstand, and Bastien snatched it up. He made liberal use of it, using fingers to drive Corentin slowly out of his mind. Corentin was babbling a litany of pleas by the time Bastien pushed inside him, filled him. It had been far too long since he’d done this, and even so, just being with Bastien felt so good, so much better than anything else. He could try to blame how long it had been since he was with anyone, but he knew deep down he was deluding himself. He focused only on the feel of Bastien moving inside him and Bastien’s eyes staring down into his, connecting them. Corentin wrapped legs and arms around Bastien, wanting more of this bond between them, desperate somehow for it not to slip away.

  He didn’t want it to end, but of course it had to. Pleasure swamped him suddenly. He’d been so focused on Bastien, he didn’t notice his release until it was upon him. Bastien gasped out his name and followed him into pleasure. As they stayed locked together in that moment, Corentin wondered if Bastien felt the intense connection too.

  Afterward, they curled together in the wreck of the bed. Corentin didn’t want to let go of Bastien. Fitting his body to Bastien’s, he pressed the front of his body to Bastien’s back. He wrapped his arms around Bastien and buried his face in his soft hair. If he’d been a dragon instead of a man at that moment, he’d have curled body and tail around Bastien and covered him with his wing, to cradle and protect. The thought froze Corentin. Since when did he think about being with anyone like that? He couldn’t remember ever wanting to. Maybe back when he was young and just come into his Talent and infatuated with another who shared it, but that had faded away, and he’d never been tempted again.

  Bastien didn’t seem to notice his momentary turmoil. He snuggled back against Corentin’s chest with a hum of drowsy pleasure. Corentin forced his body to relax. There was no sense thinking about it, no sense imagining it. As much as he might want to show Bastien that side of him in this inexplicable sense of connection, he couldn’t let himself be tempted. He couldn’t tell Bastien.

  What he could do was hold him and bask in this moment.

  “THERE YOU ARE.”

  Philip jumped a little. A hand that he knew to be Amory’s, even without the words, came to rest on his shoulder. After these few years together, he could recognize the lightest touch of his husband’s hand. Amory bent and brushed his lips over Philip’s cheek, and then continued around his chair to perch on the desk in front of him. Amory’s beautiful smile was fond. “I wondered where you two had gotten to.”

  Philip glanced down and rubbed a hand over Julien’s back. His son was snuggled up in his lap, fast asleep. Julien’s little rosebud mouth was open slightly, and one of his hands was curled in the fabric of Philip’s shirt. The warm weight of him was something Philip wouldn’t trade for anything. He’d slept on Philip’s chest in just this way since he was a tiny baby. Philip hoped he had many more years of his son curling up on his lap while he worked.

  “He fell asleep almost as soon as I sat down,” he said, keeping his voice low though Julien was heavy sleeper. “I should have taken him to bed, but I didn’t want to put him down yet.”

  “It won’t hurt him
.” Amory’s smile changed slightly, something Philip knew was only for him. “I think you needed him here more than anything.”

  “I think I did.” It was one of the reasons he’d brought a sleepy Julien with him into the study when he could have given him to his nursemaid or put him straight to bed. He’d needed the presence of his child, needed to feel him here and know he was safe and loved and would be as long as Philip had any say in it.

  Amory reached out and cupped his cheek, the touch of his graceful hand gentle and familiar. “Will you tell me? Let me help too?”

  “You always help. You are a comfort and a joy to me. You and Julien are everything.” He spoke nothing but the truth. He didn’t know what he would do without Amory and their son, couldn’t imagine a life without them in it. He’d been alone and losing himself when he met Amory, but Amory had given him a place, a home, outside the demands of Tournai on its prince.

  Amory leaned forward and kissed him softly. “You’re our everything too.”

  Philip caught Amory’s hand, keeping hold of it as Amory sat back. He sat quietly for a moment, his husband’s hand in his, his child sleeping in the curve of his arm. He sighed. “I was thinking of my father. Thinking and remembering.”

  Amory squeezed his hand. “What were you remembering?”

  “Little moments. Some of them like this.” Philip nodded toward Julien. The memories of him curling up on his father’s lap were hazy and bittersweet, especially with him gone and never having known his grandson. Never having known Amory either. Philip wished his father were alive to know them both. “He would have liked you.”

  Amory’s eyes went wide. His fingers flexed in Philip’s before curling back around them. “I…I hope he would have.”

  “He would. You’re what he wanted for me. Someone who would love me for me, not for a title, and stand by me.” His father had married for love, unusual among royalty, but he’d wanted that for Philip as well, even if he knew it might not be possible.

  “I will always stand by you. Always,” Amory said in a low voice that vibrated with sincerity and love.

  “I know.” And Philip clung to that knowledge when times became difficult, wrapping himself in the warmth and comfort of Amory’s support. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the chair. “I had so hoped we’d learn something when we found the person who wrote the letter, but he’s dead, and we’re no closer.” He looked up at Amory, whose dark eyes were filled with a reflection of his own pain. “We’re never going to find out who killed them.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I can’t imagine it’s likely we will. I wonder sometimes if it’s been worth dredging up all the pain and grief.”

  The pain of losing his parents was far too fresh, as if it happened yesterday instead of years ago. Learning their deaths had been an assassination and not a senseless accident only made the pain sharper. He’d had to put his grief aside when it happened and think of Tournai. Having to scrutinize every moment of that day, and those that came before and after, was excrutiating for him and had to hurt his sister and cousins every bit as much as it did him. Elodie had been so close to their mother; her death had affected his sister terribly.

  “We had to do it, and we have to see it through.”

  That Amory included himself soothed Philip more than anything else. The reminder that he wasn’t alone in this situation steadied him. Amory was right, of course. They couldn’t leave it, as much as Philip, in his discouragement, might have wished. The crown prince and princess had been assassinated, and he couldn’t let that lie. There could still be danger to him and his family, and he couldn’t let that lie either.

  Philip sighed. “You’re right.”

  “Of course I am.” Amory smiled at him, a bit cheeky but still sweet, and Philip remembered again, as he did so often, how he’d loved that smile immediately.

  He laughed quietly and tugged Amory down for a kiss. He’d meant it to be quick, but he lingered there, savoring the sweetness of Amory’s lips, so grateful for the man who was his husband.

  Chapter Thirteen

  BASTIEN COULD HAVE stayed exactly where he was forever. Corentin lay curled around him in the nest of blankets they’d made in the middle of the bed, and Bastien drowsed, warm and sated and comfortable. He’d moved as far into Corentin’s embrace as he could, burrowing down into the blankets, and it was as close to perfect as he could imagine. Certainly it was the most relaxed, the most…protected, perhaps, that he’d felt in a very long time. An odd thought. He let it slip away as he drifted, eyes blinking slowly but taking in little of the fire-lit room. Every so often Corentin laid a soft kiss on his hair, and that was lovely too.

  When his stomach growled, Bastien scowled and sank deeper into the mattress. A moment later came another growl, even louder.

  Corentin chuckled behind him, the sound vibrating through Bastien’s back. “I guess we better feed you,” Corentin whispered. “Let’s get up.”

  “I don’t want to,” Bastien grumbled.

  Corentin chuckled again and squeezed him tighter for a moment. “You’re adorable when you’re being contrary. Shall I go get us food and bring it back?”

  Bastien ignored the comment about him being adorable as preposterous. “Do you have anything here?”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t.”

  He wasn’t so childish as to make Corentin go out and fetch him food. He wasn’t childish at all. “I’ll go with you. We can have dinner somewhere, as we planned.”

  “Something quick.” Corentin nibbled at the back of Bastien’s neck and then kissed it, a soft brush of lips.

  Bastien shivered. “Yes, something quick, and then right back here.”

  There was that deep chuckle again, and something in Bastien heated at the sound of it. Corentin let Bastien go and moved away, allowing him the space to get up. “Up, then.”

  But Bastien only turned over to watch as Corentin stretched, his large body and smooth muscles taut, and then slid to the opposite edge of the bed. When Corentin sat up, his back to him, Bastien sucked in a breath and reached out a hand. Corentin froze as Bastien’s fingers grazed the skin of his back. It wasn’t the smooth skin that fascinated Bastien, though that was enough to make him want to touch. It was the pattern there—like scales?—that rippled over Corentin’s entire back, seeming to shimmer just under the surface. A tattoo?

  “How did I not see this before?” Bastien traced the patterns, feeling almost compelled to do so.

  He gasped as Corentin turned and lunged at him, landing on top of him and taking his mouth in a long, hard kiss. Corentin was hard against his hip—just from the trace of his fingers over Corentin’s back? He’d have to remember that. Bastien tunneled his fingers into Corentin’s hair holding him and prolonging the kiss. But after a while, Corentin drew back and kissed his way down Bastien’s body. By the time Corentin took him into his mouth, Bastien was aflame with anticipation and frustration. He gripped one hand in the sheets and the other on Corentin’s shoulder and tumbled into the pleasure Corentin gave him.

  It was quite a while before they actually rose from the bed, cleaned up, and dressed. They donned cloaks, but before Bastien could open the door and step into the hallway, Corentin pulled him close and into a kiss that made the world spin around him.

  Bastien fought to control his breathing after it ended, fought not to draw Corentin in for another kiss immediately. Best to pacify his grumbling stomach first. But, still… “A very quick dinner.”

  Corentin laughed.

  They were still laughing when they tumbled out onto the street. Corentin linked his arm with Bastien’s, and Bastien was too happy and relaxed to let a thought of discretion deter him from enjoying Corentin’s proximity. Corentin led him to a small eating house that seemed to cater to the university students and scholars who populated the district.

  The food was good and, best of all, arrived at their table quickly. The wine was excellent, and the conversation far better. And
under it, the delicious simmering tension of what awaited them back in Corentin’s cozy rooms. Bastien craved the quiet moments that came after as well, anticipating a night spent in Corentin’s arms. He thought of going home—for his siblings and on the chance some word might come about the investigation—but he couldn’t make himself go, not at the end of their meal and not later either.

  “Do you want something sweet?” Corentin asked when their plates were cleared away.

  Bastien tilted his head and gave Corentin an arch look. “What did you have in mind?”

  Corentin laughed. “I was actually talking about eating something sweet here, but I’m not opposed to the other.”

  The idea of something sugary was tempting, but… “All in all, I think I’d rather the other at the moment.”

  Corentin’s violet eyes darkened. “Then we should go.”

  They paid for their meal and stepped out into the narrow lane, far more deserted than it had been when they went inside. Fog had come up while they ate, shrouding the street. The glow of the street lights was muted and diffused by the drifting mist. Bastien was even more eager to get back to Corentin’s snug rooms and join him in the cozy bed.

  Corentin cursed softly. “I forgot my gloves inside. I’ll be right back.”

  “Hurry, or I’ll start walking without you.” It was a pointless threat. What would walking ahead get him?

  Corentin laughed and leaned forward to give him a quick kiss. “I’ll be quick.”

  “You better be.” Bastien laughed too, feeling lighter than he had in a very long time. He wandered a few steps away from the door as Corentin ducked back inside. Where was this silliness coming from? He loved this lightheartedness, even though he couldn’t have it all the time. But somehow everything felt more manageable at the moment, far less heavy on his shoulders.

  He smiled and then caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye. Pure reflex had him jumping aside as a man rushed him. “What—”