Bound to the Beast

by Kay Berrisford

  Herne raised his hand, interrupting yet again. "I asked you to feast with me, and I had good reason. Feasting was important to my people. Over such meals, we shared our stories and cares. We planned our lives and gave thanks to the gods, sometimes burying our finest vessels after one use, emptied of food but filled with our hopes, cares…and confessions."

  "I understand," said Tam. "But—"

  "It is a very long time since I have feasted like this with another man. Not since…he destroyed me."

  A mist passed over Herne's dark eyes, and Tam drew breath sharply. At last, was he to know? "Have you never spoken of what happened," he asked, "of the one who betrayed you?"

  Herne's silence whispered, Never.

  You loved him, Herne the Hunter. And he tore your heart out.

  Jealousy formed a sour knot in Tam's throat. But his swelling compassion alleviated his envy a little. Herne stared into the fire.

  "I worshipped a man once," he said, "with the very essence of my being. I believed he loved me, but I was very wrong. It was my power he loved. I was…a fool."

  Herne trailed off. Discarding the bowl of wine, Tam touched his thigh, smoothing taut muscle. He found this broken-hearted man far too easy to forgive.

  "Please carry on," he whispered. "Tell me everything."

  Herne closed his eyes, willing Tam's touch to ease the anguish of the events forming so plainly in his mind. A raw and primitive grief overwhelmed him.

  *~*~*

  The Roman commander climbed the hill to the gate of Herne's fortress one grey summer morning, flanked by a dozen of his men, including one who held the standard of the Imperial Eagle aloft. The commander stood proud and erect, although his skin was ashen beneath his bronzed complexion, his clothes sodden and his studded sandals muddy after a night's march through rain.

  Herne strode out to meet him, standing firm even as his feet sank into the mud and trepidation swelled in his heart. Toiling to find words common to them both, the Roman offered peace at a price. Herne must swear his allegiance to Rome and pay his taxes to the Empire. He would surrender his sovereignty, but no blood would be shed.

  A kestrel wailed plaintively overhead, and Herne bridled. What king who cared for his people would not? Crea stood at his side, his breath scorching on Herne's neck. "Don't give in, man," he whispered. "Think on it tonight. We will slip off together into the forest."

  Herne scarcely contained a feral growl. He would think of little else but Crea in his arms or between his legs. He must consider his answer carefully, consulting the elders of the tribe, and then he would brood on it, sleepless among his people.

  Crea then touched him, the merest of brushes against the back of Herne's hand, but it set his loins aflame. He struggled to keep the tone of authority in his voice.

  "I will send you my answer on the morrow," he promised the centurion.

  "I will take it to him," whispered Crea. "Let me be your messenger. Let me be your…slave."

  After a night in conference, Herne decided on peace. He would submit to save much blood from being shed. The next day, he sent Crea with his answer, although not without a pang in his heart for his friend's safety.

  Crea never returned.

  Frantic, Herne was saddling his horse to ride for the Romans' camp, when the first cries of alarm reached his ears. A legion had razed lands in the north of his territories, destroying crops, homes, and everything standing in their way as they marched toward Herne's hilltop fortress to lay siege.

  *~*~*

  "It is what any empire would do in the face of an open declaration of war," said Herne.

  Tam snatched a swift breath. "Of war? So what did Crea tell the Romans?"

  "He did not go to them, the cunning young wolf. He travelled straight to the camp of a neighbouring tribe, that of Veraeca, who had craved my lands for many years. I learned later that Crea had become betrothed to Veraeca's sister. It was Veraeca who sent a false declaration of war in my name, in the hope that siding with the Romans against me would result in getting his hands on my territory."

  Tam sat forward, eyes wide with anticipation. "And did they succeed?"

  Herne fell silent for a moment, his memories bringing the taste of gall to his throat. He could not put his last glimpse of Crea into words. His lover had stood at Veraeca's side on a mud-and-blood-strewn ridge, watching the farms of Herne's people burn across the valley. When Herne had ridden out to fight, he'd fixed his gaze on Crea. Crea had leaned across to whisper in Veraeca's ear and brushed his fingers against the thick sword arm of Herne's rival.

  His love. The man he'd fucked, dominated, claimed, and protected, the man who had professed to belong to him, that he'd belong to him forever. The man who'd gifted him his body and conquered his heart had been false.

  Then the battle had obscured Herne's view. He had roared with grief and rage and fought with such ferocity twelve legionaries lay dead before his anger had abated enough that he could think on the consequences.

  Now, in the abbey, Herne looked away from the red light of the vanishing sun, which had shone over his solitude since. "Veraeca did not claim my lands, because I did what was needed to save my people. I was the hunted one. The Romans demanded my blood, to see me dead, so my people would be spared. I made a decision. I would not give myself over to my enemies alive, and they demanded my death. So before dawn I climbed a hill with a fair view of the legion's camp, where those who saw could not mistake me. I had been more fool than man, blinded as a king should never be. That blindness made me a traitor, so I gave myself a traitor's fate. I hung myself by the neck from an oak, wishing to die in the arms of the spirits I worshipped in my life."

  Tam gasped, wordless.

  "I had no choice," he explained. "I would have died in suffocation and agony. I was dying in suffocation and agony. But then the Goddess's spirits came to me and severed the rope, although I fought them with all I had. I was terrified my salvation would condemn my people. But they made me what I am. The sky turned black, storms raged, and the earth trembled for a day and a night."

  Tam smoothed his hand over Herne's. Tendons hardening, Herne pulled away. "This last part is the worst. I should have made this plain from the start. I am the Goddess's creation, and never has a spirit been so wretched. Without her power and blessing, none can be made like me."

  Tam's fingers, which had stroked Herne so tenderly, now curled in a tight ball. Letting his head droop forward, the lad closed his eyes.

  "I see. So if you took me as yours, death would be my fate?"

  "I believe so."

  "Pray, why did you not tell me this before?"

  Tam's voice rose with anger. Herne confronted him with the truth. "At first I thought it hardly mattered. And then…I now realize I kept it from you so long because it was starting to matter too much."

  I will not let you die, Tam. Your death would undo me.

  After fifteen and a half centuries of blindness, everything became clear.

  He abhorred Crea. Not because of the pain Crea had brought him and not just because of the bloodshed he had caused at the time. That, at last, became history. He hated Crea because his deed of betrayal had echoed through the ages and now threatened Tam.

  "Damn you!" shouted Tam. Herne braced himself for a blow, but Tam's fury had momentarily crippled him, the lad's teeth bared in a snarl, his nostrils quivering. "Damn you."

  Herne grabbed his shoulders, holding him tightly. "Listen to me. For centuries, I sought to block him out. And yet now, with you, my heart feels benumbed to the memories in a way only…" Trailing off, he forced himself to keep looking into Tam's sharp, inquiring gaze. "That once only the oblivion of the Wild Hunt could bring."

  "What are you saying? That now I keep you from the Wild Hunt?"

  Herne had no answer. Here with Tam, his gravest resolutions were slipping from his grasp. That alone put them both in peril, and if Tam provoked his bestial instincts too much, who knew what might happen? Another reason he must remain in control.
>
  "Besides," he said quietly, dropping his arms and glancing at the moon, which rose over the jagged contours of the abbey. Although obscured by a vapour-like cloud, it shone little short of a perfect disc. "I am an ancient relic, and you seek a sweet young lover like yourself. I needed to tell you the truth, but two days from now the full moon will rise. I realize I must leave again, if I am to save you."

  "What? After telling me that? Don't you dare!"

  In an instant, Tam clambered into Herne's lap, arms circling about his neck. But far from an attempt to throttle him as Herne expected, Tam littered kisses along the line of his jaw, murmuring as he lingered.

  "Lord, I hate you as much as your damnable story makes me want to—gnng!" He bit the lobe of Herne's ear, nearly hard enough to draw blood. "Listen, man." He spoke breathlessly between sucks. "If this night is all we have, if my time is so short…then I want to be with you as much as I can. Agh!"

  Easing him off, Herne held him at arm's length, their knees pressing into a patch of soft dirt between the stone and the nettles. The lad breathed unsteadily, his eyes vibrant with waxing desire. Faint in the distance, thunder sounded, echoed by the hoarse voice of a crow and the whirl of the bats about the ruins. Ah, the Wild Hunt loved to ride out beneath a summer storm, but he refused to listen for them. This terrible heat had to break.

  "I swear," he told Tam, shaking him. "You will know many more nights, and you will find joy with others. Now you must turn the spit, or the meat will spoil."

  "I don't care. Let it burn."

  Plunging forward, Tam was as keen as his words. He urged Herne into a slow, yearning kiss, kindling grief, despair, and the barest inklings of happiness. His warrior's frame firmed against Tam's smaller body, enveloping him so naturally they might have been born to fit together.

  Herne pressed his eyes shut, throwing everything into the kiss, holding Tam so tightly he could scarcely move, tasting, consuming, and devouring him. Tam parted his lips wider and yielded to the onslaught, while Herne's thoughts flew briefly to the vision he'd experienced as he'd searched the forest. Tam had implored him to master him, had offered him every pleasure—and then transformed into that damned holly bush, just as Herne began to understand Tam was all he'd ever wanted.

  The real Tam governed him now. A lover who desired him as much as Herne craved him, for the first time in so long.

  For the first time ever…

  He felt as if a fine thread wove through his chest and Tam's, drawing them tight and demanding they never broke apart. As he comprehended the lad's carnal needs more and more, his body heated and hardened, and his pulse quickened. He saw a flash of white light, and his antlers split forth from his skull. Kissing on through the pain, he plundered all the deeper. When he finally broke the kiss, they both gasped for air. His antlers grew weighty, and his blood raced. He must be careful now.

  "Did you not understand me, boy? I am dangerous to you."

  "I know." Still Tam grew unrestrained. "But at the very least, let me taste you."

  Ripping apart the front of Herne's coat, Tam trailed kisses up his throat, along the line of his jaw. Nobody had ever kissed him with such fervour, and the soft brush of the lad's lips brought a lump to Herne's throat, a pang of desperation. Tam tasted briefly again of Herne's lips before he tore away and scrambled up from the dirt. Tam grasped his antlers before Herne knew what struck him.

  He jolted, his first instinct to push the lad away, but then he stilled. With soft fingers, Tam traced his spreading branches, stroking to his very tips.

  "Beautiful." Tam's heavy breaths nearly drowned his word, and Herne groaned. He felt only slight sensations from his bone protuberances, but Tam's touch reverberated straight to his aching cock.

  "What are you doing?" Herne's voice fell to a lust-laden husk.

  "I hardly know," replied Tam, leaning in. He sucked in one horned tip of an antler, and Herne's senses spun. Tam rolled his tongue around the blunted end, closing his eyes, clearly savouring the sensation. Herne stared at the lad, who worshipped him with his mouth, relishing his flavour. Sweet Goddess, the steel rod between his legs wept. He could not bring himself to stop the lad.

  Tam tipped his head back, trailing his tongue under the base of the long antler tip, pale skin glittering like an amethyst. Then he took a different prong in his mouth, sucking and licking. Holding him, Herne squeezed the hollow above the lad's hips, his erection hardening toward torment because part of him, even that magic part of him, was inside Tam.

  Then, with a growl, he forced Tam off and stood up. He must not take this risk, lose control.

  "I want to taste your cock," said Tam. "I need you to make me feel something real."

  The heat pressed in; sweat trickled from Herne's brow. Then Tam dropped to his knees, and raw lust swept through Herne such as he'd not known in fifteen hundred years.

  Chapter Twelve

  No dream prepared Tam for the experience of kneeling naked on the soft earth as Herne slipped his cockhead against Tam's mouth. Or of Herne grasping his hair, commanding him to take what he'd begged for. With his lips, Tam rolled back Herne's foreskin, relishing the beast's moans. Then he slid his tongue betwixt Herne's slit before swirling around and savouring the thickness of Herne's flesh, the essence of wild wood saturating Herne.

  Tam felt as if he were in a stupor. He should hate Herne for withholding the worst from him, and he should wonder upon this Crea, whom Herne loved for so long. But even his anger fuelled his zeal, and his gut urged him to trust Herne more than his right mind knew he oughteHJHerh. That he'd helped Herne overcome his torment was too much to comprehend, Herne's long sufferings nigh unspeakable. And Tam's desire grew ever stronger as he tasted and explored, wrapping his arms tight about Herne's thighs.

  Wind wailed through empty arches, sweeping Tam's hair from his brow. With a gut-wrenching groan, Herne drew back, a bitter oath escaping, but Tam cared nothing for the approaching storm. Rain did not yet fall.

  He pulled away to lift his gaze to Herne's. "I want this. Please let me."

  Herne's features relaxed a little, and the fine lines of his brow softened. Tam wished to see him melt with bliss. He embraced Herne's thighs tighter, palms flattened against the solid muscle of Herne's arse. Staring up at those antlers swaying in the wind, Tam drew Herne in as deep as he dared.

  He worked his tongue, tasting and devouring so his mouth stretched and filled, and Herne's cockhead brushed the back of his throat. Herne pressed into him, gently moving back and forth, rewarding Tam with the heady taste of his juices and a rasp of pleasure. But Tam needed Herne to fuck his mouth properly, to hear him roar till they both forgot their troubles. He grabbed Herne's wrist and put it to the back of his head, holding him there until Herne twisted his fingers in Tam's hair, gripped him tightly, and finally let loose.

  Tam screwed his eyes tight and let the onslaught of Herne's flesh overwhelm him. This was what he'd craved, this sense of carnal oneness, to give Herne a little of what the centuries had denied him. Although Herne did not strike too deeply, Tam's body shook with the power of his thrusts. He struggled to keep his teeth from scraping flesh, but he wanted more. Herne slammed into him until it seemed the next blow might splinter him into a thousand pieces. He didn't care. He needed to give, and he wanted to receive like a parched man thirsted for water.

  Too soon Herne grimaced, and Tam realized he hovered on the verge. Herne's cock shuddered, and Tam braced himself; he would and could take it all. The gush of hot, salty liquid shocked him still, filling his throat as Herne's cry shattered through his ears. Herne staggered back, leaving Tam relishing his potent flavour, his every scorching drop. The sheer effort of swallowing had him sagging back onto his haunches.

  He wiped his lips with quaking fingers and looked to Herne, who towered over him. Lightning forked through the sky, illuminating his rugged features in a flash of gold, and Tam stared in awe into Herne's gaze misted with lust.

  Had Tam healed Herne a little? Had he comforted Herne, as
he'd wished? Sweet spirits, he wanted more of this man. He wanted him inside…but no, that was impossible. Still, Tam was desperate to feel, to make the most of what they'd started, and be taken surely as a hind pierced with an arrow fell as the huntsman's prey.

  "Herne, I need something inside me, please, anything." His voice sounded fevered, his mouth growing dry as he surrendered to his darkest needs. "The ginger's just here. You could…I'd let you…"

  He couldn't meet Herne's gaze; he stared at Herne's fists, which Herne clenched, rigid, at his sides.

  "You do know what you ask for, boy?"

  No. He wasn't sure. And he certainly wasn't convinced this was wise. He nodded all the same, while Herne stood motionless.

  Then, moving with the speed of a pouncing wolf, Herne seized him by both arms and pressed him down over the wine barrel on his belly. Hard wood chafed his bare skin, but imprisoned between hard wood and Herne's harder body, Tam sank into a glowing sense of comfort that warred with his erection. Every time this man drew close, Tam needed him all the more.

  "Yes…yes!" he cried.

  Herne wrenched himself away. Tam panted his approval as Herne used rope from the cooking to bind his wrists in front of him, every contact tingling through his body to his cock, which smeared wetly against the wood. Then Herne tied his ankles together, leaving plenty of room for his knees and buttocks to be parted. Splayed over the barrel, he could barely touch his toes to the earth, his bare arse offered up toward the night, spread, exposed, and vulnerable to the elements—and to Herne's power.

  Caution chimed in the back of his mind, yet nothing had ever felt so good. There could be no comparison to his capture by tittering fairies; now he was bound, held captive by the beast. And his cock ached like never before.

  Wordlessly rising, Herne slapped him sharply on his bottom. Tam yelped, clenching his muscles tightly, waggling his arse.