Page 61 of Awakening

Chapter 14

Trystan went into the bedchamber looking for Myrddin. He found him face down on the bed, his arm stretched across nearly to the other side. Most of the furs and blankets had been pushed to the end of the bed except for one draped over his legs and half his muscled ass.

For a moment, Trystan admired the strong, god-like body of the man—correction, guardian—before him. The physical strength and stamina contained in those muscles never ceased to amaze him, especially when he used all that power to fuck his ass and make his dick explode and body writhe in exquisite pleasure.

His member hardened beneath his fur and leather pants, and Trystan palmed his groin and shifted his erection, seeking some relief before it occurred to him where his thoughts had taken him. Trystan had never had such desire for him before, let alone thoughts of them being naked and intimate with each other. Once again, however, the memories and clear images in his mind seemed far too real, as was his desire and love for Myrddin.

Trystan let out a puffed breath, attempting to refocus, and clutched Myrddin’s shoulder. “Myrddin.”

Myrddin groaned as he lifted one eyelid, the other buried in the bed linens. His eye slipped closed.

“Come.” Trystan ran his hand from Myrddin’s shoulder down his back, pausing at the base of his spine. “Rise and clothe. I have something urgent to discuss with you.”

Trystan left the room, needing to distance himself from Myrddin before he caught sight of his nakedness. So many times it seemed Myrddin would weave some sort of spell on him, drawing him into his embrace, and Trystan never resisted. Today, he needed to. He had a long journey ahead, a difficult quest at best, considering he did know not exactly where to find the blood of Arthur, even now that the illusory fog had cleared from his brain.

In the other room, Trystan poured himself a cup of ale and paced the dirt floor, scrubbing his hand over his face.

A groggy Emrys entered the room. He fell into a chair at the table, rubbing his face.

Trystan slid into the chair next to him, leaving the third chair—Emma’s chair—empty. His heart clenched, imagining that chair forever empty.

“You said you had something urgent to discuss?”

Trystan cleared his throat. “Yes. I need to travel south.”

“Why?” Myrddin asked, his tired gaze not moving from Trystan.

“To find my father.”

Emrys stared at Trystan, his eyelids heavy. He’d not slept well, what with Trystan tossing all night. “Find? Does this have anything to do with you having trouble remembering certain things?”

Trystan nodded. “I don’t remember where he is. I keep thinking Wydrin.” Trystan played it off as a lapse in memory. If Myrddin believed his grandfather to have been a mere knight in the king’s army then he surely would not believe that King Arthur was his father. Last he knew, Arthur was buried beneath the abbey in the shadow of the Tor that overlooked Wydrin. It seemed the logical place to begin.

Myrddin blinked slowly, sleep taking over again. “Vilsir. That is where we last saw him. For what purpose do you need to see him?”

“He has something I need. Something I only remembered recently.” Trystan paused, holding Myrddin’s concerned gaze. “I’ll go alone. That way, you and Emma can take care of the gardens and such.”

“Emma won’t like that idea.”

“I know.”

“I don’t like that idea either.”

“I didn’t expect you would, but we cannot leave everything unattended.”

“We have the Wynfords at our disposal. A day’s ride there and back with a day or two to visit. The crops will be fine. Emma can ride with one of us. Besides, I’m sure she’d like to meet her grandfathers.”

“Grandfathers?” Trystan emphasized the plural.

Myrddin gave him a disbelieving look with a single brow arched. “Owaine and Noah?”

Trystan’s heart thudded in his chest and tears pricked the corners of his eyes. Owaine? Was he alive here in this false reality?

“Are you all right, angel?”

Trystan stared into Myrddin’s worried, emerald eyes. “I, uh—” His voice cracked. He couldn’t reveal anything from the real world he knew. This Myrddin wasn’t real. He was an embodiment created by the dark magic of this realm.

Trystan gave a quick nod. “I’d just, somehow I’d forgotten about Owaine until you said his name. Memories of him came rushing back suddenly.”