Page 77 of Blood Fist

Standing on his toes, the tips of his fingers just barely brushed the bottom of the round fruit. Grunting, he leapt for it, only for the fruit to bounce up and away before he could get his hand on it.

Suddenly, a warm weight pressed against his back. “Here let me.”

Face reddening, he spun to face Brune. “I don’t need your help!”

“You couldn’t reach?—”

“Are you calling me small?” Ridan huffed, glaring as the alpha easily picked the fruit. He held it between them.

Brune’s lips trembled as he fought a smile. “Of course not,” he said between snorts of poorly concealed laughter. “You’re just…closer to the ground.”

Ridan snarled and tackled Brune. The fruit fell, rolling away from the wrestling duo. Snapping and snarling, Ridan tried to pin Brune’s hands, but the big alpha kept batting him off, chest shaking with laughter every time Ridan spluttered in rage.

They movedaway from the trees, hacking on the dust they’d kicked up, and earning unimpressed glances from the horses. Ridan had Brune’s legs pinned with his knees, but couldn’t keep his arms down until Brune finally gave up, going limp in his hold.

“Who’s closer to the ground now?” he crowed triumphantly.

Brune was smiling, lips just barely curved. His hair had fallen out and was splayed around them, sticks and leaves stuck in the tangles. Despite the loss, his eyes were bright. Alight with something from inside. He didn’t rise to Ridan’s jeer, just took in Ridan’s smirk of victory. A soft rumble erupted from his chest.

Ridan stiffened in surprise. He’d heard alphas rumble, of course. His mother did it to him often as a child. She would soothe him after a nightmare or when he’d fallen off his horse. But this was different. This was a rumble of contentment, one an alpha made when he was happy with his mate.

Warmth pooled in Ridan’s stomach, and he felt the urge to drop, to nestle into Brune’s chest and let the rumble rock through his body straight from the source. So loud and sure, he could feel it resonating through his legs. And his scent.His scent.It was always pleasant, but right now it was like warm soup or the smell of freshly oiled leather.

Eyes drooping, Ridan hadn’t realized how close he’d come. His nose was nearly touching Brune’s lips, parted to let his earthy scent linger on his tongue. So close, he could see his scent glands just under his jaw, shiny with fresh scent. Brune noticed his gaze and lifted his chin, presented his glands just for Ridan. He could bite them, tear them free from his neck.

Or he could taste them. Press his lips to them and lap up the scent directly from the source. Not just smellBrune, buttastehim. Have him completely. His nose dropped, pressing just against the sharp curve of his jaw.

Brune crooned softly. A plaintive call, something soft. A request, rather than a demand. It made Ridan shiver, and it was only then that he recognized he was purring in response. His body pressing down against the big alpha so he could feel his softer vibrations, smellhis happiness.Good alpha. Made us happy.

His big hands were still pliant under Ridan’s. He made no effort to push him off, to take control. He was just basking in Ridan’s attentions. Preening under him, eyes dilated and scent vacillating between contentment and…pleasure.

Ridan had never purred for anyone but pack. And only during heats. He’d never accepted an alpha’s croons or felt the need to respond. To reassure the alpha that his omega reciprocated. He traced Brune’s cheek with his nose, eyes fluttering closed.

A crack of thunder broke them apart.

He smelled the rain just before it began pattering on his back. Blinking, he reined his omega in just in time to realize he was straddling Brune, purring andslicking.Pushing himself back, he stammered out something about checking the horses.

As he took a step back, Brune caught his wrist. Ridan looked down to see clear bruises from where he’d gripped him too tight. Brune didn’t comment on it, just pushed the fruit into Ridan’s hand before stepping back under the trees and out of the rain.

With the rain, the temperature dropped. Previously, they had been comfortable without shirts, but now a chill ran up Ridan’s skin as he finished getting ready for the night. While Brune made sure the feather was snugly tied inside a pack, Ridan started a fire. The trees above were not the best weather break, but it kept most of the water offthem. Sputtering, the flames struggled to ignite. Rain hissed and spit as it landed on the fledgling fire.

Peppercorn glared at Ridan balefully. Possibly the only creature who hated to be cold and wet more than Ridan. Her ears were pinned to her head as she snuggled against Boulder at the base of a thick tree. Snorting whenever water dripped onto her nose. Her tail swishing with displeasure.

Once the fire flickered to life, Ridan dragged his cloak over his shoulders while he picked at the fruit Brune had given him. He wanted to eat it. Not just because he was hungry, and the sweet fruit would cleanse his mouth of dust from the road, but because Brune gave it to him. His omega scratched at the back of his head, demanding he accept the gift from the alpha.

He rubbed his thumb across its taut skin and snorted. That was ridiculous. It was a piece of fruit, not a courting gift! Digging his thumbnail into the skin, he began peeling it, tossing the rind into the fire.

Brune joined him beside the fire. Osmond lent him his cloak. They ate in silence, exchanging bits of fruits and jerky.

By the time night fell, the rain had lessened. Ridan spread out his bedroll by the fire and curled up under his damp cloak. Brune was beside him, arms folded under his head. Even with the wet, he didn’t seem nearly as cold as Ridan was.

He couldn’t help but remember how, just an hour prior, he was straddling the man. He could still feel the warm strength radiating off the big alpha. How he didn’t seem to mind Ridan’s fingers digging into his wrists or his teeth so close to his neck.

Shivering, Ridan dragged his cloak up to his nose.He tried to keep his eyes closed, but they kept popping open. They found shapes in the shadowy treetops above him. One branch looked like a bat wing. Another like a rake. He tried to find as many shapes as he could to keep his mind off the cold.

“Hey Ridan,” Brune called from his own bedroll. “I’m cold. Could you come a little closer?” he was smiling sheepishly, one edge of his thick cloak lifted in invitation. Brune had a rosy flush to his cheeks—there was no way he was truly cold.

But Ridan was.