Poor Rider. Had they caught him the night he’d helped me? Or come across his lean-to later? The best I could hope was his brain didn’t occupy one of the jars.
As for the fate of his wife, or what remained of her, it made me nauseous to imagine her still down there, a plaything of the yayhos.
Fredericks leaned against the railing of the community center porch. “Do you think them yayhos will come back?” he asked, his voice husky from smoke. “Or did we drive them off for good?”
I stared up at the looming black bulk of Threshold Mountain. “They’ve been dealt a setback,” I said. “As have we. Last night was the new moon, but tonight will still be black enough for them to move freely above ground. I can’t imagine they’ll simply let us leave to spread word of their existence, not while they still have a chance to wipe us out.”
The miner, Bill Swiney, spat to one side. “Then what do we do?” he asked.
A man in a pastor’s collar came out onto the community center porch. “We trust in God,” he said. “Just as we did last night. He sent the wind, which struck the monsters from the sky, and preserved His faithful.”
The tips of my ears grew hot, although, of course, no one knew of my involvement, or would credit it, save Griffin and Christine. “I, er, don’t think we should rely on such a thing happening a second time,” I said, as diplomatically as I could manage. “The yayhos will have learned from the experience, and, as they say, God helps those who help themselves.”
Fredericks seemed equally skeptical. Turning to me, he said, “Dr. Whyborne, your daddy owns a large interest in Stotz Mining. With Mr. Orme gone, I guess you’re the boss.”
Me? No, there had to be some mistake. How on earth could I know what to do?
Flight wasn’t an option—the train trestle lay in ruins, and the only other way out of Threshold was a hard hike over extremely rough terrain, which would take at least a day if not more, even if we weren’t attacked in the woods. Under the best circumstances, many of the wounded would never be able to make such a trip. They would have to be left behind, at the mercy of the yayhos, a fate not worth contemplating.
Too many people had already died. Even more had lost everything they owned to the fire. The yayhos would be back again tonight, and likely they wouldn’t give me the opportunity to use my wind spell against them a second time. Had they seen me on top of the tipple? Did they know what I’d done?
I looked around at the tired faces, hopeless enough to ask advice from a bookish recluse such as myself. There was a good chance we would all die here in this wretched valley.
What would happen when the outside world found Threshold gone? If the yayhos meant to keep their presence secret, they must have a cover story of some sort. A fire, perhaps, or a mine explosion.
The mine.
“We fight,” I said, and hoped my voice didn’t shake half as badly as my hands. “But in order to succeed, we must pull together, as we did with the bucket brigade last night. Pinkerton and miner, hotelkeeper and dishwasher. The yayhos are strong and terrifying, but together we can destroy them. Indeed, right now, we have them at a disadvantage.”
Swiney stared at me in disbelief. “We do?”
“Their hatred of sunlight keeps them trapped within their underground caves. No doubt they intend to do as they did last night, and emerge from the mine after sundown. But if we move first—if we enter the mine with enough force to overcome their guards and place timed explosives within, perhaps we can at least slow them down long enough for us to escape.”
Fredericks nodded slowly. “Makes sense.”
Swiney gave me an odd look. “You’re not a bad one, Dr. Whyborne.” Rising to his feet, he called, “Listen up! I want the best blasting men over here! We’ve got a plan, and by God it don’t include us blowing up with those yayhos. We’ve one chance to do this right.”
“What about the rest of us?” someone asked.
Griffin had risen to his feet and joined me. “How long will preparations take?”
“Not sure,” Swiney said. “We’ll be wanting as much blasting powder as possible, so we’ll have to move it from the storehouse and pack it in carts, to take it in with us.”
“We need some kind of weapons for everyone who goes into the mine,” Fredericks added. “Bats or picks or whatever we can find.”
“And the blasting men have to figure out which pillar is the best for bringing down the roof,” Swiney went on. “It’s going to take a few hours, minimum.”
Although I hated the wait—I wanted the damnable things gone immediately—as Swiney said, we had but a single chance. A mistake with the pillar or the blasting fuses could spell disaster for us all.
Griffin didn’t seem happy about the delay either, but he nodded. “Then I suggest those not involved in preparations find some rest. We’ve difficult work ahead of us.”
“Or come to the church and pray,” the pastor added, looking a bit put out we’d stolen his spotlight.
There was a great deal of nodding, and the crowd began to break up. “Good job, Whyborne,” Christine said.
I winced. “This could still go horribly wrong.”
“True. But at least they now have hope.” She clapped me roughly on the shoulder, then started up the street toward the hotel. “I’m going to take Griffin’s suggestion and try to rest. You fellows should do the same.”
~ * ~
An hour later, I stood in my room at the hotel, staring out the window at the peaks outside. Threshold Mountain mocked me with its verdant slopes and gray balds. So beautiful and peaceful on the outside, while untold horrors squirmed beneath the surface. How many yayhos had survived, and even now crawled and climbed through their burrows on chitinous feet?
The hotel had taken some damage, mainly in the form of broken windows, but for the most part it remained whole. The kitchen was busy making meals to take down to the men helping in our defense. At Brumfield’s order, the staff had filled a washtub in an empty room on the ground floor, in which I might bathe. The water had been black by the time I’d scrubbed my skin, and I’d left Griffin waiting patiently for it to be emptied and refilled.
As I stared out the window, I heard footsteps come down the hall. Griffin’s door opened, then closed, accompanied by the soft sound of the bolt. A moment later, he knocked lightly on the connecting door.
I drew back the bolt and let him in. His hair was damp from washing, and his skin smelled of soap. “Can we talk?”
Disappointed he’d come for conversation instead of other things, I sat down on the edge of the bed and clasped my hands between my knees. “Of course.”
He sat beside me. I ached to lean against him, to feel the warmth of his skin, to press my nose into his hair, but I restrained myself.
“I’m sorry I called you naïve,” he said. “Not to mention other things.”
“You were right to do so.”
“No, I wasn’t. Or if there was any truth to the words, I should have phrased things better. But I was hurt and afraid, and I lashed out at you.”
I straightened in surprise. “Afraid? I don’t understand.”
Griffin let out a long sigh. “Seeing Elliot again reminded me of a great many things. Of where I came from. Of things I’ve done. Things I’d hoped to keep from you, because I didn’t want you to think badly of me. When I saw how angry you were, I knew I was losing you, and the prospect terrified me. So I fought back, out of some wrong-headed idea I was defending myself, and just made it all worse.”
My heart beat faster at his words. “I was equally at fault. I should have trusted you. But Elliot is much handsomer than I, and more worldly, and he wouldn’t hold you back from…anything.”
Griffin lifted his head and gave me an incredulous look. “Sometimes I have no idea what goes on in your head,” he said. “Elliot isn’t handsomer, not to my eyes, at least. There’s nothing about you I would change.”
“My hair? The awful way it sticks up?”
“Is quite endearing.”
“My height?”
“Only means other portions of you are in wonderful proportion,” he said with a wink. “I also love to see you blush.”
“A good thing, since you’re adept at making me do so,” I muttered.
“And even if Elliot were a god among men, and you were, I don’t know, Quasimodo ringing the bells, I would choose you because…because of who you are.” He swallowed and lowered his gaze again. “I told you Elliot knew about my confinement. The truth is…he’s the one who had me committed to the asylum. It was his signature on the papers.”
All the air had squeezed out of my lungs. “Griffin…I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.” How must he have felt, to know the man who had mentored him, who had been his lover for years, had betrayed him in such a manner? “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“Because it shames me, still,” he said, his voice low enough I had to strain to hear him. “I hate talking about it. I hate reminding you that I’m…damaged.”
“It’s a part of you. Not something I wish had happened, but it did, and there is no shame in it. You did nothing wrong.” No, that faithless wretch Elliot had been the one to do wrong. I should have set him on fire when I had the chance.
“Elliot did what he thought best at the time,” Griffin said. “And I won’t pretend you would have believed me, not without better proof than I had. But neither would you have locked me away and just left me there. He never came to see how I fared; he never even sent a letter. He just walked away, like a child leaving behind a broken toy. You would never do such a thing, not to anyone.”
“I should hope not!”
He smiled, soft and achingly beautiful. “Precisely. Tell me what I can do to earn your forgiveness, my dear. I’ll do anything, if you’ll just be mine again.”
His words recalled the silly Valentine’s card he had bought for me, now tucked safely in a locked drawer back in our home. How happy I had been when he gave it to me.
“I never stopped being yours,” I admitted. “Besides, we were both at fault when we quarreled. Although I was rather put out when I found you in his office the next morning.”
“You interrupted another row,” he said wryly. “I wished to make it clear to Elliot I was not at all happy about how he had tried to portray our relationship to you the night before. In retrospect, I should have said to hell with Elliot and spoken directly with you instead.”
“Quite.” But one last thing troubled me, and it seemed the time to get things out in the open between us. “Elliot said you would have found seducing a-a rich man’s son an exciting challenge.”
Griffin chuckled. “No. I found seducing you an exciting challenge.” His fingers wrapped around my tie, tugging me closer. “I love watching you in public, so restrained and proper, so seemingly untouchable. All the while knowing I’ll have you in my bed later, writhing beneath me and begging for more.”
My throat was tight, although not as tight as my trousers against my swollen member. “O-oh?”
“Indeed. And this morning, when you stepped up and took charge of the town?”
I’d felt like a fool at the time, but perhaps I hadn’t looked like one. “What about it?”
“I was so hard I worried I wouldn’t be able to walk back to the hotel.” He glanced seductively up at me through his lashes. “You know, I wouldn’t object if you were to take charge of me, as well.”
“Oh?” I licked my lips, not sure I could do this without sounding like an utter idiot, but willing to try. “Then t-take off your clothes and get down on your knees.”
He obeyed with alacrity. I watched him disrobe, drinking in the sight of his pale skin, of the little freckles on his shoulders. When he dropped to his knees on the wooden floor, I stood up.
“You, er, know what to do,” I said.
His fingers brushed over the tented cloth of my trousers and gave me a sly look. “Hmm, no, I don’t think I do.”
He loved making me say things which would make a sailor blush. “Suck on my cock.”
Unfastening my trousers, he drew out my member. Wrapping his fingers firmly around the sensitive flesh, he leaned in and lapped the liquid from the slit, tongue probing for more. A soft groan escaped me, before I remembered we must be cautious, even with the doors locked and no one in the adjacent rooms.
It wasn’t easy, though, especially when he ran his tongue up and down the shaft, before finally taking me into his mouth. I wanted to thrust into the hot wetness, but instead I ran my fingers through his hair, gripping it just hard enough to get his attention.
“I won’t share you, you know,” I told him breathlessly. “For as long as we’re together, you’re mine alone. You won’t touch anyone else, not like this.”
He tried to pull his head back to give me a verbal answer, but my fist in his hair stopped him. He nodded as best he could, his eyes wide and pleading for me to believe him.
I did. Nor did I think he’d been with anyone else since we’d met, no matter what that traitor Elliot claimed. “Good,” I said, and closed my eyes as he slid his mouth down to my root, one hand cupping my sack. For a moment, I thought about letting him finish me—but no, I wanted more.
I let go of his hair and pulled away. “Help me undress,” I said shakily.
He came to his feet, fingers flying over buttons and shoving my bracers aside, until our skin met. He was hard against me, leaking with need, the feeling almost as arousing as what he’d been doing just a few moments before. We fell into bed together, and I kissed him deep, tasting myself on his lips.
The bed was too narrow to be entirely comfortable facing each other, so I rolled on top of him. His hands shaped my shoulders, ran down my back, and gripped my backside. I bent my head to his nipple, even as I rubbed my length against his thigh.
“Yes,” he whispered, voice stripped raw with need. “Show me your passion, my dear, please. Show me you still want me.”
“Always,” I vowed, lips tracing his skin. I slid down, mapping a line with my mouth, stopping to take little bites across his thighs. His cock jumped and jerked in reaction, and he gasped softly.
His thick erection made my mouth water, but I avoided it in favor of his sack. I heard a stifled moan as I sucked first one ball, then the other. The musky flavor of his sex fired my nerves and stiffened me further.
“Take me,” Griffin whispered, his fingers twining in my hair as I sucked and licked. “Please; I want to feel you in me.”
I had to break off and take a few breaths to calm myself. “Y-Yes.”
I almost fell off the bed searching for the little jar of petroleum jelly among my things. When I found it, I gave it to Griffin with shaking hands. He gave me a puzzled look, so I said, “Prepare yourself for me.”
His pupils dilated with desire, the emerald only a thin corona. Hastily, he coated his fingers in the stuff, before pressing them to his passage. A little moan of pleasure escaped him, and I watched as he writhed around his exploring fingers, my cock practically pointing at the ceiling I was so hard.
“I’m ready,” he panted. “God!”
“Now prepare me.”
His eyes widened slightly, and he scooped out more from the jar and spread its slickness over my erection. I had to bite back a moan. “Yes,” I whispered. And, knowing how he enjoyed hearing me say unseemly things: “Slick me up thoroughly, so I can fuck you.”
He looked utterly wild. The feel of his fingers, firm around my cock, tempted me to simply pump into his hand. But good as it was, it wasn’t half as exquisite as what awaited me. “Get on your hands and knees.”
Griffin kissed me as if he meant to devour me, his lips and teeth almost bruising against mine. Then he pulled away and did as I’d ordered, dropping onto his elbows with his backside up in wanton invitation. I bit one tight buttock, eliciting a startled gasp, before tracing my tongue across his crease and biting the other for good measure.
“My dear, please,” he begged.
Positioning myself behind him, I g
uided the tip of my cock to the puckered flesh, and pressed. He opened for me, the tight ring seeming to tug me deeper as I breached him. “Yes,” he panted. “Love this. God, you’re so big.”
“Do you need me to stop?”
In answer, he pushed back against me, hungry and demanding. His body felt hot and tight, and the sight of my aching prick sliding in and out of him as I thrust almost undid me. I changed position, leaning forward and wrapping one arm about his waist, my back pressed against his. With my free hand, I caught one of his nipples between my fingers, pinching and twisting until he moaned in pleasure.
He bucked against me, and God, it felt good, from the touch of his skin to the sound of his passion, to the way his body gripped me, as if desperate to keep me inside him. Pleasure built, my balls drawing up tight, and I switched my hand from his nipple to his length. The sensation of his iron-hard cock in my grip, slick with need, sent my desire even higher. I bit his shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark. He cried out in response, shoving back against me, body clenching even as his member pulsed.
It pushed me over the edge, white-hot pleasure shattering my control, hips snapping against his buttocks as I spent myself deep inside him.
I collapsed against his back, stroking to milk a final stream from him. We clung together for several long seconds, our breathing still rough, bodies joined but slipping apart. My every muscle felt limp and loose as I pulled gently free and fell back on the bed. Griffin stretched against me with a happy sigh.
After a few long minutes, my heartbeat returned to normal, and I regained some control over my limbs. All the aches banished by pleasure returned with a vengeance when I dragged myself from the bed long enough to clean up at the washbasin. Once finished, I brought the cloth to the bed and ran it tenderly over Griffin’s skin.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, when I returned to curl against his side again. He rolled onto his back, and I tucked my head on his shoulder.
I kissed the nearest available patch of skin, atop the arch of his collarbone. “You’ve done the same for me, many times.”
Whyborne and Griffin, Books 1-3 Page 45