A week later, part of him withered while he mourned her lifeless, bloated body. Her sister had railed on him and thrust her fist in his face with a farewell note from Erithe, demanding Tash tell her what he had done to make Erithe kill herself. Although Erithe had struggled for years with an ever-growing sadness that attacked her in fierce waves, tearing her away from the joys in life and leaving her in anguish, she had never mentioned the intention to take her own life. Mostly she had spoken of feeling worthless and uncertain, and Tash had done everything he could to assure her she was wanted. Despite the thousands of times he told himself Erithe had been too miserable to carry on, Tash still believed he could have stopped her had he paid closer attention.
Swallowing back his regret, Tash wiped his wet eyes with his pillowcase. He could not change the past. Had he not yearned for companionship and physical touch, he would have sworn love off altogether after Erithe. Instead, he had gone from one casual lover to the next, content to leave the bed of someone he never intended to continue seeing. Unconditional love always passed him by.
Until now.
Mayr stayed even when it was better to leave.
I may never deserve you, but I can't let you go. I tried and it hurt worse than all the other times. Tash curled into the mattress, wishing he could forget. I tried to cut you out, to carve you into me, but it didn't work. The pain kept flowing and I couldn't stop—I didn't want to. I sobbed while I did it, crying your name, but I'll never tell you that. I'll never tell you I dug harder every time I whispered I loved you. I'll give you my heart but not my shame. I can't bear seeing the horror in your eyes.
He would protect Mayr as much as Mayr protected him.
Tash's family had never seen his marred arms, and he would never tell them, knowing how they would react. But Mayr knew the why and how of each scar. Rarely did Mayr speak of the marks, but he did not ignore them. His touch was always soft; his lips tender as they kissed the various lines. By those efforts alone he lessened the sting of what they meant.
Despite his shame, his scars were more than reminders of what he should not do: they were a record of how he had found himself by Mayr's side, with a life worth having instead of wasting away in misery. They were explanations for who he was, reasons why fear drove him to such despair and joy lifted him higher than wings ever could. They symbolized what it meant to truly live and learn how to love himself, bringing him that much closer to Emeraliss.
Past loves, past hurts… They were a glimmer of memory compared to his present, a beautiful dream that transformed his waking hours into the stuff of fanciful ballads.
Tash smiled at his ring before shifting backwards until he nudged Mayr's hip. The quiet snores stopped, punctuated by grunts as Mayr turned onto his side and draped his arm around Tash's waist. The snores resumed a moment later. Breaths danced over Tash's neck as Mayr's hold tightened, drawing Tash closer.
While the embrace felt good, the heat of Mayr's skin on his was even better, particularly where Mayr's half-hardened shaft pressed into his cleft. With the leisurely roll of his hips, Tash rubbed against Mayr, encouraging Mayr's cock to tease his opening—a reminder of Mayr's merciless thrusts earlier that morning, which had left Tash raw and hoarse.
Mayr stirred, his moan overtaken by a hum. He wrapped himself around Tash and rocked into the seduction. "Morning," he murmured, brushing a lazy kiss across Tash's shoulder. "How'd you sleep?"
Twisting, Tash curled his arm behind Mayr's neck and wove his fingers through Mayr's tangled hair. "Like your husband."
"Mmm, I like that." Mayr lavished Tash's neck with open-mouthed kisses and the scrape of morning stubble. "We'll have to make sure it never stops."
"Keep loving me like this and it won't," Tash said, craning his head back. "Goddesses know what it'll take to pry me away from you."
"A clumsy clan of three-eyed ogres with mortifying disgruntlement issues and stinky jelly feet?"
Tash laughed until Mayr nipped his throat. He groaned, unable to do anything else. "I was thinking something slightly less legendary."
"All out fiery brawl in a sinking mud pit—" more kisses continued along Tash's collarbone "—with a hundred ass-for-brains that can't be broken."
"Bigger than that."
Mayr pulled away, his grey eyes bright despite his solemn expression. "War. Massive and bloody, where the only end is death—that's what it'd take to drag me away from you. Even then, I'd tell death to take its ugly ass home. I'd take on the Goddesses themselves just to stay by your side."
In a hard kiss ripe with intention, Mayr robbed Tash of words and blew apart any semblance of a reply. Tash twisted in Mayr's embrace as their tongues traded one taste for another. He would do anything to wake the same way every morning for the rest of their lives.
"I think you need to turn over," Tash muttered against Mayr's lips.
A moan answered him, followed by a kiss that sucked the air from his lungs until he gasped.
"No, you really need to turn over," Tash insisted, unprepared for the tight grip that seized his hardened cock. He choked. Fingertips caressed his tip, circling with a feather-light touch that dared him to scream.
"If you say so," Mayr whispered, drawing one finger along the underside of Tash's shaft. He slid his fingers through the patch of dark curls around the base and tugged, grinning while Tash hissed and arched into the touch.
Tash nudged him back, a growl lodged in his throat. Giggles tumbled from Mayr as he rolled onto his stomach and hugged his pile of pillows.
Once Tash spread Mayr's legs and kneeled between them, the laughter stopped. When Tash splayed his hands over Mayr's back, Mayr flexed and shifted into Tash's touch. Unable to tear his gaze from the tight, tan skin adorned with black and red tattoos, Tash glided his palms up Mayr's spine. A shiver wracked Mayr's body, small bumps rising along his neck and shoulders.
To behold the beauty before him was one thing, but to touch was altogether divine. He cherished the scent of sweat and perfume that wafted around them. Even more, he took immense pleasure in curling the ends of Mayr's hair around his fingers.
Leaning back, he released the coils, delighted as Mayr's hair pooled in an ebony cascade between his shoulders. Tash pulled gently on the soft tresses, straightening them to their full length past the midpoint of Mayr's back. The faint aroma of soap clung to his hands, the scent of dew and raw honey reminding him of dawn on a mid-spring morning. Fresh, enticing, addicting… He hummed while he combed Mayr's hair with his fingers.
Mayr sighed into his pillow. "You're playing again." He peered over his shoulder, one brow arched. "Will you ever tell me what my hair did to get this kind of attention, or is that the best kept secret on this side of Dahena?"
A smile crept over Tash's lips. "No secret, just a private moment."
"Ss. Moments. You realize I'm growing it longer for you, right? You and your private, secret-keeping self. I think that deserves a—"
Mayr groaned from the kiss Tash planted at the centre of his back, in the dip around his spine. "And I thank you for it," Tash whispered over Mayr's skin, "but it's still not a secret. It's a memory wrapped around a memory, a vision of beauty on beauty. A reminder of when I was a child, easily distracted by lovely things."
Tash laced the black tresses around his fingers. "I was in the back of my parents' shop, practicing my terrible writing skills. In all of the ungainliness of a frustrated seven-year-old, I knocked over the ink well—straight onto the fabric leaning against the table. It hit the floor before I could do anything, ebony-black ink all over snow-white silk." He shook his head, fighting a smirk. "It was terrifying, knowing the cost of that bolt; knowing how angry my parents would be. But when I scrambled to sop up the ink, sunlight hit it and bits of silver glimmered in the silk. It was the black of night cuddled up to a blanket of untouched snow. From the right angle, it looked like the stars had been plucked from the night sky and planted in the snow like glass flowers—breathtaking and awful in all meanings of the word.
&nb
sp; "You, however, are awful in only the one sense," Tash said, leaning over Mayr to kiss his neck. "You inspire much more than desire in me. I feel such awe for you my heart aches."
Mayr whimpered as Tash slid his splayed hands down Mayr's back. He paused on each tattoo then followed their lines with a steady caress. On Mayr's left shoulder blade was a pair of black songbirds. Entwined by their feet with their wings unfurled, they carried a crown of red, bell-shaped flowers between their beaks. On his right shoulder blade, twin bearcat cubs joined at the hip, with identical snarls and small tails up in the air. The birds represented Mayr's parents, the cubs his brother and sister.
Towards the middle of his back, on his left side near his ribs, was a detailed arawolfe on the prowl in honour of Aeley. Ears up, black snout down, and long, thick fangs bared, the wolfe looked menacing… Until one's gaze drifted to the right, onto the image that represented Lira: a second wolfe, dressed in the furs of a red doe, which sat on its haunches with one paw up to tap the first wolfe on the nose.
Tash held back a laugh. When Mayr had suggested he would add the tattoo in all its humour, Lira doubted his sincerity. She had been equally horrified and honoured to see the completed design.
His hands continued downwards to the vine that meandered over Mayr's right hip. The vine was as long and wide as his hand with slender leaves and four red buds—a mark to remember Betta and Iliane by. Mayr had wanted the rest of the vine to go over his ribs and up his chest with flowers that progressed to full bloom as Iliane grew up. The last flower would have been tattooed over his heart, a symbol of Iliane's eighteenth birthday. After Betta left him, however, those plans had been thrown away and the permanent image left behind.
As permanent as the bird that occupied the bottom half of Mayr's back.
Tash held his breath. The ink was still dark, only weeks old. The painstakingly detailed work resembled the image on Tash's back, merely a smaller version. The mark had not been there before his previous meeting with the Sacred Assembly. It was only after—on the night he returned to Dahena—that he discovered what Mayr had done in the four days Tash was away. His place in Mayr's life had been staked, his significance etched into Mayr's skin.
He showered the tattoo with kisses, lingering longer the harder Mayr moaned and ground into the mattress. A steady lick from Mayr's buttocks to the small of his back gained loud mewls for more.
Tongue questing further, Tash worked his fingers into Mayr's cleft to stroke his opening. Mayr was a study in taste and memory: the sweet oil they usually used mingled with the savoury oil Mayr had added, their combined flavour pleasurable on the tongue. Together with the musky residue of release, the scents roused memories of the quick, hard slap of skin and the mind-numbing throes of ecstasy.
"Slow, my love," Tash murmured, gliding his hand over Mayr's hip. "Let me—"
A knock on the door startled them both. Mayr's hips jerked, his backside catching Tash in the chin.
Mayr rammed his face into his pillow and grumbled a string of muffled expletives.
Tash sighed then rested his forehead on Mayr. "The guards noticed you're late for work. Remind me to haul Pellon out for a beating—sorry, training. Your second-in-command should know better."
Snorting as he sat up, Mayr struggled to yank a thin white sheet from the pile on the bed. "You're cute when you're annoyed." He drew his thumb along Tash's bottom lip. "And when you pout, I'm totally undone."
Another knock sounded. Mayr untangled himself from the rest of the blankets and hobbled from the bed, wrapping the white sheet around his waist. Fabric trailed behind him while he answered the door.
Tash rolled onto his back and flipped the blankets over his bared erection. He scowled at the ceiling, unable to make out what Mayr said to the visitor. Maybe I'll be lucky—maybe he can get out of whatever they're fetching him for.
The door closed. Tash waited for Mayr to get dressed.
The clink of glass confused him.
"What—?" Tash stared at the tray in Mayr's hands. The aroma of pastries, spicy fried meat, and seasoned eggs filled the air. Two glass goblets were filled with pink juice and decorated with coils of black kimmer fruit that hung from their rims. "Breakfast?"
Mayr flashed a boyish grin. "I wasn't going to let the morning go that easily." His hips snapped playfully from side to side on his way across the room to the table and chairs near the furthest wall.
When my boy schemes, he schemes hard. Tash's stomach growled as he eyed the food, desperate for a taste. "How many other things do you have planned?"
"There might be a couple."
The moment Mayr placed the tray on the table, another knock rapped the door.
Now what? Tash waited as Mayr sauntered to the door to greet the second visitor with little more than cheerful thanks.
The door closed a second time, revealing a glass vase in Mayr's hands. White flowers streaked with bright purple and gold flowed over the rim, the tri-layered starburst petals in full bloom around vivid gold centres. Branches of lustrous silverwood completed the arrangement with stalks of thick, blood red leaves.
Speechless, Tash pushed up from the bed and followed Mayr, scooping up his red pants from the floor along the way. By the time he reached Mayr's side, the vase sat at the centre of the table. Tash stroked one flower, the head of petals as large as his hand.
"My favourite," Tash whispered. "How did you—?" From what he knew, the flower was grown only in specific gardens in the Alosaa tract. It was not native to Kattal, having been brought from lands in the south by Tract Steward Oaren's family and tended in expensive warm houses that kept summer plants all year. He last saw the flowers during a visit at the Oaren estate with Mayr and Aeley. Previous to that, he had seen them only when he had taken refuge in a temple in Alosaa.
"I know someone." Mayr pursed his lips and snapped his fingers, his gaze on the armoire against the wall to Tash's left. Before Tash could ask what trouble he intended to get into, Mayr retrieved a small wood box from the armoire. Returning to the table, he cracked open the box and set it beside the tray. A white metal ring glinted inside the rich purple lining, the single blue diamond within the band flat and oval. Two detailed feathers curved around the stone, etched into the metal instead of sitting on the band like Tash's ring.
"Now we can have breakfast." Mayr cast Tash a scolding frown. "Especially since you didn't eat much last night."
And we'll discuss it later, Tash finished, the unspoken words hanging in the air. He reached for the ring but did not touch, yearning to see it where it belonged. "May I…?"
"That's why it's there." Mayr's eyes gleamed as he pulled out a chair and fell into it.
Pants discarded over the chair beside Mayr, Tash snatched the ring from its box and sank to the floor, kneeling between Mayr's legs. His hand trembled as he slid the ring onto Mayr's middle finger. "I wasn't sure this would ever happen. I didn't think you'd want to marry anyone again."
"You're not anyone." Mayr tilted Tash's head back, one finger crooked beneath Tash's chin. "You're my earthbound Halataldris," he whispered, "as sacred and beautiful as your namesake. That's why I tattooed his image on me—I want you on me, in me, always with me."
A kiss brushed over Tash's lips, gliding across his skin like the purest silk. The whispered sentiments echoed in his thoughts, melting his emotions into a warm, sticky puddle. Whenever Mayr called him by his full name, Tash's knees weakened and his heart kicked. Every syllable was a tug on the invisible thread that bound them, freezing time for an instant—long enough for him to fall in love all over again.
Once Mayr drew back, Tash's breath went with him, his lungs aching until he remembered he needed to inhale.
"You need to eat." Mayr tucked Tash's hair behind his ear. "Because I don't care what you say, come is not a suitable replacement."
Tash laughed and fumbled his way into the chair next to Mayr, slipping on his pants before settling. He would yield to Mayr's sensibilities, unable to deny how delectable the jam and
cream pastries looked beneath dollops of orange preserves and slivers of mixed nuts.
While Mayr arranged the goblets and brown clay plates on the table, Tash swept his glance through the room. Like the other bedrooms in the estate, Mayr's room was large, with a high red ceiling and dark red wood panels where there was not expensive grey stone. Yet unlike the other bedrooms, Mayr's room was modestly decorated. The large table in front of them was simple and round, fashioned from black wood without carvings or engravings. The table legs curved gently like the legs and arms of the matching chairs, four of which surrounded the table, though it could accommodate eight. On the other side of the table sat a pile of folded, cream-coloured linens and a metal washing bowl filled with water.
In the centre of the wall behind the table was the small hearth with its dying fire, a bucket of fresh water beside it. Above the hearth, small treasures were displayed on the stone mantel. They were trinkets from Mayr's family, including four small, wood statues of the Goddesses with red veils pinned to their heads and a white candle that had never been lit. The fact that the statues of Navara, Goddess of Justice, and Hastal, Goddess of Protection, were on the inside did not escape Tash. Nor did he miss the closeness of Emeraliss's statue to Hastal's, the Goddess of Love no less worthy of Mayr's devotion than Hastal's protectiveness.
Around the statues lay Mayr's first dagger from Korre Dahe, a gift from when he was eleven, crafted from black metal with alternating thin red and gold bands around the hilt. On the left side of the mantel rested a crown of dried pink flowers and white ribbons from Estara's wedding, where Mayr had stood as a witness. On the right side was a crown of purple flowers and yellow ribbons from Loftin's wedding. In the direct centre between them lay a third crown, the gold and pink flowers with coiled black ribbons a reminder of Aeley and Lira's wedding.
Alongside the crowns stood a handful of yellow, woody grass with hollow stems and dried green buds in a red clay cup. Tied around the stems was a bright yellow ribbon signed by every member of Mayr's family—a keepsake from his parents' farm, taken from the harvest the year he left home to live at the Dahe estate. Beside it, a lock of Aeley's blonde hair lay in a blue glass bowl tied with a narrow black ribbon, a souvenir from the first time Mayr had bested Aeley in the training ring.
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