Poison

by Megan Derr

  "Very," Gael agreed, voice husky.

  Noire smiled and caressed his face, lingering on his lips. Gael kissed his fingers. "You're wearing too many clothes," Noire said.

  Laughing softly, Gael drew back and began to remove his clothes, tossing them haphazardly, one of his shoes clunking as it hit the dresser. Then he returned to Noire's arms, settling between his thighs so that their cocks rubbed against each other, leaving damp spots on their skin. Gael bent and sank back into the drugging heat of Noire's willing mouth, kissing as deeply as he could, tongue sliding, tangling, lips bruising, breaths lost.

  Noire's hands curled around his hips, keeping him close, hips moving sinuously in a promise of what was to come. When Gael finally drew back, he felt ready to burst from heat, the desire coiled tightly in his belly. He nibbled at Noire's neck, needing more of the way his breath hitched, nails biting into his skin, and all that warm skin rubbing against his. Nipping at Noire's ear, he asked, "Where's the oil, kitten?"

  "Pillow," Noire said, voice ragged. He didn't wait for Gael to pull away and find it, just thrust a hand under one of the many pillows on his bed and pulled out a corked glass bottle, thrusting it into Gael's hand.

  The scent of warm vanilla blended with the smell of sex in the room. Gael pulled the cork and poured the oil into the palm of one hand, then used it to slick his fingers, warming it. Reaching down, he teased his fingers along Noire's entrance, tracing, pushing in the barest bit only to withdraw again, until Noire's nails dug in deep and one hand yanked impatiently at his hair. "Gael, please."

  "As you desire, kitten," Gael said, and he took Noire's mouth as he pushed one finger inside. Noire made a hungry, mewling noise against his mouth, legs spreading wider in silent plea for more. "So eager," Gael said and pushed in a second finger. "Love the way you get lost in it. I could take you in the receiving hall and you would not care."

  Noire's head fell back as two became three, hips moving to try and take the fingers deeper. "I wouldn't see anyone but you, Gael. More, give me more."

  Gael obeyed, withdrawing his fingers and lining up his cock, then pushed slowly inside. Noire reached for him, tried to pull him close, but Gael captured his wrists and held them over his head. He kept them there as he began to fuck Noire with slow, deep thrusts, eyes fastened on Noire's face—the wide eyes staring back at him, the flushed skin, the way his mouth opened and closed, the bobbing of his throat.

  "More," Noire pleaded, but Gael denied him, maintaining the slow, deep thrusts and keeping him pinned until Noire was reduced to moaning, keening, eyes closed as he writhed against Gael with every thrust.

  Finally Gael's control began to fracture. Still holding Noire's wrists in one hand, he wrapped the other around Noire's cock. "Come for me, kitten."

  Noire obeyed with a cry, body tightening around Gael's cock and shuddering against him, his release falling hot and sticky over both of them. Gael came right after him, unable to hold back any longer, thrusting deep one last time into Noire's body and taking his mouth in a wet, hungry, messy kiss as his release washed over him.

  When he felt like he could breathe again, move again, Gael pulled gently out of Noire's body and stretched out next to him. Lying on his side, he pulled Noire back against him, draped an arm over his waist, and dropped a kiss on his shoulder.

  "You had another nightmare," Noire said softly.

  Gael sighed and kissed the back of his neck, behind his ear, his shoulder again, needing the intimate, reassuring touches. "Yes. I woke up and for the first few moments believed you were dead. It took too long to wake up entirely."

  He feared what he would do if he lost Noire. Gael had always prided himself on his strength, his endurance. It was no easy thing to go from being a simple boy and the son of a humble bookshop clerk, to suddenly being named the reincarnation of the Unicorn. But he had done it, flourished, and he liked to think he was serving his country well and was not a disgrace to the god whose soul he carried.

  But strength was, in the end, a very fragile thing. If he lost Noire, he would lose everything. The memories were there, whispers and shadows at the back of his mind that would not come fully forward except in the form of the nightmares.

  All those times Noire had died. He had always thought it must be during the ceremony, when so many others died. But his nightmare that night had shown a place that was too furnished to be the Sanctuary. It was the most detail of his surroundings that his nightmares had ever revealed, beyond his impressions of the Sanctuary.

  He wished he understood what he was seeing, why Noire died so horribly time after time. How those deaths tied to the ceremony, if they did at all, because though Noire was his lover he had no direct involvement with the ceremony. It was a riddle he had tired of long ago, but could not break free of.

  No matter what it took, he would not fail again. He would not keep losing Noire. Fate would not be permitted to repeat the cruelty a ninth time.

  Gael held Noire tighter. "I love you, kitten."

  "I'm not going to die, Gael," Noire said. "I won't let anyone take me from you. Even you couldn't get rid of me."

  "I would never try to get rid of you, kitten. I am just terrified that someone will take you, no matter what we do."

  Noire turned around in his arms and kissed him. "Must I continue to hide? To be your secret? If it was known that I was your lover, then people would be more hesitant to hurt me. Secrecy works against us as much as for us, surely."

  "If nobody knows, nobody will think to hurt you," Gael said. "I have lost you over the course of eight lifetimes, and I refuse to lose you in this one. Please, kitten. There are only a handful of days left in this month, and two more to go after that."

  Heaving a sigh, Noire surrendered. "Fine, but I still think you are making a mistake."

  Gael didn't reply, just held him, basked in him. He should have been going, but could not make himself move. Every time he succumbed to his need for Noire, it became that much more difficult to leave him again.

  "Stay," Noire whispered. "Just for a couple of hours. The maid who comes never enters the bedroom. She knocks on the door and leaves my breakfast tray outside."

  "Speaking of your doors—"

  "I know, I know," Noire said. "But it makes it difficult for the poor servants. Anyway, your nightmares say I die when you are there, Gael. I think I am safe enough in my own rooms."

  Gael wanted to argue, but it seemed suddenly a small thing with all that he already demanded. "Very well," he said and took a kiss.

  "So will you stay?" My maid will wake me in a couple of hours, and you can slip away after she's prepared my bath and delivered breakfast. It's always quiet around here early in the morning, you know that. Please?"

  Smiling faintly, Gael brushed a strand of a hair from Noire's face. "As if I could refuse you much of anything when you say that word so sweetly. I'll stay."

  The smile Noire gave him then was bright enough to convince a god to destroy the world, and Gael could only be honored that Noire chose to give it to him despite everything. "I do love you, kitten."

  "I love you, too," Noire replied, then curled up against him and, after only a few minutes, was once more fast asleep.

  Gael buried his face in Noire's soft hair and followed him into sleep, silently praying that the nightmares were finished for the night.

  He woke up to a brisk knock on the door, and Noire grumbling into his pillow that he was up. The maid on the other side of the door laughed, and then Gael could hear the splash and clatter as she prepared the bath and breakfast.

  "How did she get in?" Gael asked, because he had locked the outer door.

  Noire grunted. "I unlocked it a little while ago so she'd be able to get into the outer rooms. But the bedroom door is still locked."

  Sitting up and shoving back the hopeless tangle that was his hair, Gael looked around. The filmy curtains were gold with morning light, making it hard to see the rest of the room. Shoving the curtains aside, he slid from bed—and yelped in surpr
ise when he was yanked back onto it.

  Noire climbed on top of him, rubbed against him, and all thought of finding his clothes and slipping quietly away fled. "Good morning, your highness."

  "Good morning, Voice," Gael replied, curling his hands around Noire's hips, groaning as Noire grabbed his cock, already hard, and slowly guided it to his entrance. "Kitten—"

  "How may I be of service, highness?"

  Gael huffed out a laugh, but it quickly turned into a groan as Noire slowly sank all the way down on his cock. "I think you are already serving quite well, Voice."

  "So I should just sit here?" Noire asked, hands splayed on Gael's stomach, holding agonizingly still.

  "Brat," Gael retorted and rolled his hips, jerking up the slightest bit, eliciting a gasp. "Move, kitten."

  Noire obeyed, lifting up and driving back down, slowly at first, but steadily increasing his speed, skin flushed with sweat and heat as he rode Gael, hair tussled, skin still smeared with dried come from the night before.

  Gael groaned and held fast to Noire's hips, meeting every thrust, driving up as hard and deep as he could, dragging Noire down for a hungry kiss as he came. Noire spilled between them, and then collapsed in Gael's arms.

  Lingering was a reckless, foolish thing to do, but Gael just could not make himself be wise. "I wish I could stay here all day, kitten, and fuck you until we're both too exhausted to move, then sleep until we're ready to do it all over again."

  Noire groaned and finally pulled entirely free of the softening cock inside him, making Gael almost groan himself at the loss. "Do not tempt me to find a way to tie you to my bed, Gael. Come on, we need to clean up. I'll double check the servant locked the door again so we can be assured of privacy." He rolled out of bed before Gael could reply—but froze as he reached the bedroom door.

  Gael did not bother to ask why, as Freddie's voice burst through his mind. Another attack. Come at once. Bedroom of the White Hawk. Swearing, Gael climbed out of bed and began to gather his clothes. Noire left, returning a moment later as Gael finally located his second shoe. "Door is locked. We can clean up quickly and then go."

  Following him out of the bedroom and into a bathing room, Gael set his clothes on a low table and fetched a rag. He soaped it up and began to scrub himself off quickly, then did the same for Noire.

  When they were clean, he began to pull on his clothes, hoping that nobody would pay much mind that he was wearing the same thing as the day before. Except they would, of course—

  Well, he would just have to think of something. Then he remembered he had fallen asleep in his office. Of course. He was an idiot. Dressing quickly, he then went to the dressing table and grimaced at his hair. He did not have time to fix it. Doing what he could with it, Gael went back into the bedroom to find his ribbon.

  "Come on," he said when they were both finally ready. "We have already taken far too long."

  "I'll go ahead," Noire said.

  Gael nodded, but tugged him close for one last kiss. Noire smiled at him, then slipped away. To pass the time, Gael spent a couple more minutes trying to fix his hair, then gave it up and finally left.

  When he reached the White Hawk's bedroom, Freddie was pacing impatiently in the front room, her face bearing a strong resemblance to a thundercloud. "There you are," she snapped. "It's about time."

  "My apologies," Gael replied. "I fell asleep in my office; it's completely put me off balance this morning. So the White Hawk has fallen now?"

  Freddie's mouth tightened. "Come see for yourself—and it was her bloody wife who found them."

  Gael's stomach clenched at the word 'them'. Had the victims extended beyond the Beasts? He followed Freddie into the bedchamber and immediately grimaced. Lady Ciel, the White Hawk, had clearly been enjoying herself while her wife was out of town. Unfortunately, she had decided to enjoy herself with another person: the White Owl, Lord Justin. "I see."

  "Lady Ciel's wife is greatly distressed," Freddie said tightly. "Bad enough to catch her wife of ten years cheating ... but to find she is also in a coma that even the Faerie Queen cannot bring her out of? I want to find the meat-eater behind these poisonings."

  "I agree," Gael said. He beckoned Noire close and said, "Go at once to Lord Ailill and bring him to us in the Sanctuary."

  "Yes, highness," Noire said, and he dashed off without another word.

  Gael looked around the room, wishing some clue would leap out at him. There must be something, some tiny detail they were overlooking. Four Beasts incapacitated and nary a clue as to how it was done? It did not seem fair somehow. It seemed impossible, save that he knew all too well it was possible.

  He prowled the room, looking and poking at everything. "How is the culprit managing it?"

  "I don't know," Freddie said quietly. "I have been wracking my brain and pouring over every book on poison I can find. There are many that can do this to a person, but none of them fit—and all of them Etain should be able to undo."

  Gael nodded, glancing at the bouquet of yellow lilies in a blue vase by the bedside. They were from Etain's private garden; it was a tradition of Etain's to periodically gift flowers to her Beasts and a handful of others in the court whom she favored. Their scent soothed him slightly, and he eventually turned away from them. "Come, we should get them to the sanctuary."

  "I have told Ciel's wife to keep quiet on the matter, but we both know that won't last for long. The woman is a gossip, and eventually she won't be able to resist sharing her secret with the wrong person, and by tomorrow night it will be all over the palace."

  "Can we confine her to chambers?" Gael asked. "At least for a little while?"

  Freddie shrugged. "We'll see. But I don't see any excuse I contrive lasting more than a couple of days." She lifted Justin into her arms. Gael picked up Ciel and followed Freddie out of Ciel's room and through the palace to the Sanctuary.

  Ciel he placed exactly opposite Elianne, forming the top and bottom points. Justin was placed exactly opposite Lyall. "The four major points," Gael said softly. "Whoever is doing this was smart enough to poison the cardinal points first."

  "Something we should probably remember to mention to Lord Ailill because I do not think it occurred to us before," Freddie said. "Unless Etain did when she brought him here."

  Gael smoothed back Ciel's hair. "Who would want this?" he asked. "I don't understand why somebody would want to hurt Verde this way, cause this level of pain. Bad enough the ceremony is in jeopardy, but with every Beast that falls, so too does the calming they cast over the kingdom. Tensions are already high, and the Beasts are needed to force back the violence and maintain the peace. With four of them gone, the burden falls to the remaining eight. If all the Beasts fall ... "

  "I prefer not to think about it," Freddie said, crossing her arms just below her breasts and scowling up at the glass dome. "The meat-eater cannot hide forever. Everybody makes mistakes, and eventually that mistake will be his undoing."

  "Four Beasts," Gael repeated. "What happens after all twelve fall? We keep thinking it is only about the Beasts, but what if it is more than that?"

  Freddie huffed irritably. "What more would they do? It's poison, Gael. He might take me, but no one can poison you. He won't be able to get by Etain, either. If he does, her power will counter the poison and drive it out—if only long enough to warn us. The ceremony is closing in, and soon it will not matter. Once we are gods, we can restore the Beasts, they will tell us who it is, and that will be the end of the matter."

  Gael said nothing, not wanting an argument. But he could not believe that it would be so simple. The poisoning of the Beasts spoke of someone with terrifying skill and power. Somebody who had patience and was careful to the point that, so far, he was undetectable.

  All he could see was Noire's face, silver-blue eyes vacant, body covered in blood. Noire's words played over and over in his head, about secrecy being a bad idea rather than a good one.

  Still he could not make himself speak, terror closing his th
roat.

  There was nothing they could do except hope that they found the assailant before it was too late.

  Chapter Nine: The White Bat

  Noire waited in the receiving hall for Ailill to appear, feeling bad that he had been left alone barely a full day. He forced himself to hold still and not succumb to the urge to fidget, to pace around the hall.

  He tried to focus on something, anything—and of course, the moment he let his guard slip thoughts of Gael rushed in. The palpable fear, the reverence in his every touch, how right it always felt when they slept tangled together. Noire closed his eyes, reliving the happiness of waking up with Gael pressing him into the bedding, lying there to enjoy it as long as possible. His own boldness in keeping Gael there for just a little longer, the laughter of that moment, the way the laughter never lasted long enough.

  The way it was all being ruined by some cowardly meat-eater determined to interfere with the ceremony. Noire reached up to touch the silver, teardrop shaped cravat pin nestled amongst the folds of lace. His only gift from Gael, more precious to him than everything else he owned. It made him think of the silly ribbon he had given Gael.

  Noire had never been so nervous in his life. Stupid as it was, kneeling before the assemblage and swearing his fealty as the Royal Voice had not been as nerve-wracking as giving a hair ribbon to his lover of one week. But even then, after so few days together, Gael had made it clear just how much he loved Noire's eyes.

  He'd only been out to order new handkerchiefs, stupidly excited that, as the Voice, he was allowed to have the crest of the Voice embroidered upon them. It had been a splurge to him back then, a ridiculous indulgence to order new handkerchiefs just because he wanted them to be fancy. The shopkeeper had only been trying to sell him more things and remarked that the ribbon matched his eyes almost exactly.

  Unable to resist after that, Noire had bought it, wrapping it in tissue paper and spending the next couple of days nervous while he waited for Gael to have time for him. He had expected Gael to be happy with it, but in a polite way. When Gael had instead lit up, had immediately said it was like his eyes and removed the green one in his hair to replace it ...