Page 5 of Inceptive (Ingenious #3)

5

ZACH

“ W here’s home, Belle?” Will asked later as he painted her claws and added sparkles.

“Home is here.” She admired the sparkles, lifting her x-shaped feet in a high strut around the room.

The display amused Zach. “I gotta admit, she’s more entertaining than checkers.”

After caring for Belle, Will practiced his flute, with Zach listening when he should’ve been carving pegs for trading. His pa had warned against forming friendships with the servants. Some men were two-natured and would take advantage of his loneliness. Scratching an itch inflamed it. Therefore, Zach must ignore the itch.

Except having caught Will rubbing off, then tasting his lips, then listening to his music, Zach itched from teeth to toenails with unspoken needs that he had no words to describe.

Will wiped the mouthpiece and keys before placing the instrument in its case.

“Your mouth is incredible,” Zach said.

“ So-o-o I’ve been told.”

Will’s wide grin puzzled him. “What’d I say?” he asked.

With a glance at Belle snoozing on the rafter, Will rocked by the stove and explained about kissing and oral sex with classmates.

Zach gasped like a trout. “You enjoyed sucking a man when you weren’t in rut?”

“A rut is losing your mind to desire. If I liked a classmate, and we’d agreed it would be fun, we’d search for an opportunity to have sex. Usually, handjobs because finding the time and privacy for blowjobs was a problem. I sure as hell wouldn’t have sucked the deputy viceroy if I hadn’t gone into rut.” He pulled a sour face. “The only time I ever swallowed was with him. I wanted to save it for someone especially yummy.”

Zach narrowed his eyes. “Seed is valued. A woman never swallows. She sucks to harden a man, then stops.”

“Really? How would you know?”

He lifted his chin and bragged, “Riley told me.”

“Fifteen minutes with an alley whore and your cousin Riley is an expert?”

“It seems to me the deputy viceroy took advantage of your rut and turned you gay.”

“The rut didn’t twist my nature. It made me agreeable to perform what I’d wanked to in my sweetest dreams. Of all the rotten timing for my one and only rut. It ruined my future. My hookups were infrequent. Being the viceroy’s son, I turned down repeats to prevent being used as a stepping stone in politics.” He cut a look at Zach. “I wanked in my bedroom where I could take my time. I never announced to the household that I was going fishing , and no one ever barged in my room and yelled at me to hurry up.”

Zach was curious and wished Will would brag using the explicit details Riley had used.

“If you want to know—ask,” Will murmured.

Asking was like deliberately stepping into a mud suck without a rope. Zach asked anyway. “How often do Island men go into rut?”

“Well… if a man is under thirty and rubs off frequently, then a rut hits once or twice a year. If repressed, then a rut hits like a ton of bricks dropped atop your head and knocking out your brains.”

Zach scooted to the edge of his rocker and clasped his hands over his knees. “No warning flag?” His previous servants were straight, experienced, and smoked before a rut hit.

“Oh, I flagged. Full mast. Liking a man doesn’t matter during a rut. The closest man will enthrall me. It’s all about sticking dick inside ass or mouth. His or mine. There’s nothing romantic about a rut.”

Zach’s face burned. His throat tightened. Shameful lust filled him for thinking of Will in a rut, sucking him off.

Will stood, looking at him oddly. “I’ll start a fish chowder. Take your time wringing one out on the porch.”

“Huh?”

He pointed at the hard bulge in Zach’s pants. “We’re men. Cockstands happen. Don’t make stupid excuses. Go fishing.”

Fuck the voices telling him to deny the itch and save his seed.

The moment he was outside, Zach lowered his waistband and jerked off, letting his mind fly as his seed sprayed. He didn’t imagine riding a woman on all fours. He imagined tight male butt cheeks and Will looking back over his shoulder and pleading for harder, faster.

Fuck the sermons!

He rubbed off another.

His two minutes had stretched to thirty before he rinsed his hands in the rain and tucked his dick inside his pants. Shamefaced, he stepped inside the cabin and braced for teasing because he might have hollered the third time.

Chowder simmered on the stove, the table was set, and Will was concerned with Belle, who’d awakened and was pacing the rafter, chittering to herself, then pausing and listening as she stared at the ceiling.

“What’s wrong with her?” Zach whispered to Will.

“Something changed a couple of minutes ago. Did you see any river eagles circling?”

Zach hadn’t heard anything but rainfall and his pounding heart. “Birds have migratory patterns during the rainy season. It’s possible she heard her flock.”

Belle bobbed her head, hopping from foot to foot. “Yes, yes, yes. Home. I hear home calling.” She flew to Will and perched on his shoulder. “I hear home, Will.” Sorrow filled her voice.

“It’s not safe,” Will said, his voice trembling. “Your flock might not welcome you after your absence. You’ll smell like humans.”

She rubbed against his neck and nibbled his earlobe. “I be careful.”

Will looked at Zach for help. “Drop the bar on the door and shutters. I can’t free her. She’s tame.”

Zach opened the door. “It’s a kindness to release her now so she can catch up with her flock. There’s safety in numbers.”

She nibbled and nuzzled. “Pretty please? Tell me bye, my Will.”

“I knew this day would come.” Tears falling, Will walked outside, petting her crest. “Goodbye, pretty bird. I’ll hang your cage on the porch if you change your mind.”

She flew into the rain, soaring high and disappearing over the riverside rim.

“I c-can’t believe I let her g-go.”

“She belongs with her kind. She’s strong, smart. I think she knew home was nearby as soon as she saw the basin.”

“Home could be hundreds of miles across the lake as easily as ten miles beyond the other side of the river.” Will sat on the porch bench, looking dejected. “How could she leave me?”

“Maybe she has a mate in the flock. The rain triggers breeding instincts.” Zach hung the cage on the porch, then sat beside Will on the bench. “I’ll miss the fish.”

Will sniffled. “Belle saved us from marriage. Tell me that we did the right thing freeing her.”

“Think of it this way. Had you not freed her, I would’ve plucked and roasted her from aggravation.”

“You’d never have caught her.” He gave a watery chuckle, then his face crumpled, and he bawled with his head on Zach’s shoulder.

A powerful urge welled to bend his head and press kisses to Will’s soft brown hair and make it better. Instead, Zach put an awkward arm around him until the tears dried.

By the next morning, it was obvious that Belle wasn’t coming back.

Will’s eyes betrayed his silent crying behind the closed curtain in the loft all night. He threw himself into organizing the food supplies and rationing three months of meals. He found a stray feather and sobbed. He washed clothes and hung them over the rafter to dry. When Zach protested their clothes could go another two weeks before washing, Will had given him a swollen stink eye.

Supper was reheated chowder with a side of nutrient gravy that packed calories and vitamins. Will choked half his serving down and gave the rest to Zach.

With chores caught up, there was little to do in the evening but rock, drink tea, talk, and take care of bodily functions. A work crew would be dealing cards or mending or catching up on the months apart since last harvest. They’d be discussing trading prices and how dark times were creeping over the crowded Island. They would debate philosophy and politics, but they would lower their voices when talking about sex because Zach was unmarried.

Zach had listened and knew the time was ripe to negotiate for a surgical clinic inside Fort Hope when he was mayor. In return, he’d lease farmland with years of rights to Islanders. With the town’s birthrate declining, indentured servants already outnumbered the farmers of Fort Hope. Productive farms needed dedicated renters living on the property instead of servants.

Zach brewed a tea to soothe melancholia. As they stretched their legs and rocked, he waited for the tea to loosen the tight cords in Will’s neck and unbottle the grief.

Will’s lips tipped up, and his eyes creased as if he was remembering Belle’s pranks in the saloon. Finally, he sighed. “I hope she’s safe.”

“Of course she’s safe and surrounded by males courting her. She wants to mate and hatch babies.”

“She never remembered her home until we left the Trading Post. She’ll be happier with her kind.”

Did Will miss home and being with his kind? “I don’t mind if you want to play your flute.”

“I’d rather talk about us leaving when the tunnel opens. Do you actually believe you can just walk into the meeting hall and become the new mayor without a fight?”

“Turning twenty-five gives me full authority over my land, votes, and trust fund. By law, the mayor must turn her title over to the one holding the largest share of active land votes. Everything I own is updated on my bachelor taxes every harvest. Don’t need more proof than that.”

“Can you change the law on visitor permits to allow me to work here past the harvest?”

“That requires a proposal through the council first. Easy, because I’ll own the majority of the votes to push any proposal through. Then, it goes out to a popular vote. Every adult votes then. Offer them a good reason to keep you here, and the vote will pass.”

“Allow me to teach music, singing, and dancing.” Will fancy-stepped, leaped, shimmied, and finished with a deep bow. “What? No applause.” He pulled a frown.

“My people disapprove of those arts unless they contribute to ceremonial traditions.”

His body weaving, Will pressed a hand to his heart, then the back of his other hand to his forehead. Zach caught him and lowered him to the floor. No more melancholia tea!

Will opened his eyes and deadpanned, “I’m also qualified in theatricals to teach ceremonial traditions.”

“No.” Zach let Will’s head drop the last inch on the hard floor.

“Bully.” He twisted Zach’s ear.

“Ouch.” Zach pulled the hand away, then Will’s other hand pulled his beard—hard.

“Miss Glorianna has had practice fighting off men,” Will boasted.

They wrestled, Zach deflecting every punch and kick, and Will hiccupping with laughter whenever he snuck a pinch that drew an unmanly yip from Zach. He thought Will was maneuvering to lock those long legs around his neck in a chokehold when he pinned Will’s arms to his sides. Instead, Will went lax as if catching his breath. Zach eased his weight up, then howled as fiendish fingers dug into his sides and tickled.

Zach pinned the ticklers above Will’s head, then straddled him, bearing down until Will stopped squirming. Their laughter died. Zach lowered his gaze to the full lips that he’d kissed. He imagined them stretched around his cock, with Will looking up with goddammed grateful tears in his eyes.

Will had stilled beneath him. Their gazes locked. The playful mood evaporated as wood bloomed. Zach’s wood.

He scrambled off, sitting on the floor with his back to Will. Please, please, don’t talk about this. Pretend it never happened…

Will stood and cleared his throat. “Zach… I… we… uh… were finding a reason for me to stay.”

“Right. Yeah, right. Want some tea? A different blend?”

“Yes, please. I could drink some tea.”

They drank and rocked by the stove.

Will spoke first. “When the bridge opens, my father will be waiting for you to turn me over to him. Give him something else he wants. Something that’ll make the people cheer him and forgive my faked death. Send a wagonload of soil with a message there’s more coming if he negotiates building a surgical clinic here. I’ll be a more valuable asset serving as an envoy for the transactions between my father and the new mayor than as a husband to Elliston.”

Zach shook his head. “The law bans selling our soil. My proposal can’t overthrow that law.”

“In politics, wording is everything. Call it trading or swapping, not selling.”

“Trading is the same as selling.”

“Farmers have been smuggling soil for years. Give them a proposal, and they’ll vote for open trading.”

Will was right. Farmers outnumbered townspeople. “Islanders have never let their doctors and medical technology leave the Island,” Zach said.

“Trust me. Times are desperate. I’ve spent as many years listening to politicians as I’ve spent listening to symphonies in the archives. I’ll get you a staffed clinic inside Fort Hope. But it’ll cost tons of fertilized soil. My concern is what happens after you marry and give the land to your wife. Will our hard work be repealed?”

“No. But to earn the trust and support of my people, I must marry. There’ll be much competition and bickering, allowing me a few months to find a sensible wife. Especially after Astrid tried to steal me before parents had a chance to introduce their daughters.”

“Why not wait a year and marry a woman you love?”

“Because I’m tired of my hand. I’d like to… to touch and be touched in a bed with someone I like the look of.”

Will rocked a minute. “I’ve never shared a bed. Just janitor closets. The smell of disinfectant is as invigorating as blue tincture. Give me a freshly mopped floor, and I sport a boner.”

Zach guffawed, glad to have Will’s easy company again. An ideal marriage would be having a desirable partner to touch him at night and be a sensible friend during the day.