Page 74 of Lord of the Lone Wolf (Bonded Hearts #3)
Maseo
T ime blurred as Maseo waited for Liros to return to the Divine Realm. It frustrated him to wait so long when it felt like he lost to the necromancy a little more each day. He clung to the hope that Kizoshi promised Liros would return before it was too late, but waiting proved challenging.
Kitsuki was scarce due to his responsibilities, but any stolen moment with him was a treasured memory for Maseo. But as much as he had enjoyed spending time with Auslin, Sephen, Kisano, and Fersen, he had missed his other friends.
While it was a disconcerting reminder of how much time had passed, the triumphant return of the Valzerna army lifted Maseo’s spirits, but each step dragged as he made his way to the barracks.
The bandages wrapped around his torso restricted his breathing, and the patch over his left eye itched, but he resisted the urge to scratch it.
He pushed his battered body because he needed to see his friends. After killing his own father and almost dying, Maseo craved the normalcy of their banter and camaraderie. Perhaps he had sustained more head damage than he believed, because he even missed Bitris and Rylan’s shameless flirting.
He hadn’t been able to say goodbye before Kitsuki whisked him away from the battlefield, his body ravaged by necromantic wounds that refused to heal. The last time his bunkmates had seen him was the morning of the final battle.
The familiar door to their shared quarters stood before him. Maseo paused, taking a shallow breath to steady himself before pushing it open.
The sound of laughter greeted him, a reassuring mix of Bitris’s boisterous laugh, Drayden’s softer chuckle, and Sudryl’s dry snicker. They were unpacking their gear, settling into barracks life as if they hadn’t just fought a war. The normalcy of it tightened Maseo’s throat with emotion.
Bitris spotted him first, his yellow eyes widening with delight. “By the three realms, our conquering hero returns!” He abandoned the tunic he’d been folding and bounded across the room with the enthusiasm of a baby dragon. “I thought the king kept you for himself.”
Before Maseo could protest, Bitris enveloped him in an enthusiastic embrace. Pain exploded across Maseo’s ribs and back, forcing a strangled cry from his lips.
“Shit!” Bitris loosened his grip but didn’t release him, his hands moving to support Maseo instead. “You’re still injured?”
“The eye patch wasn’t a giveaway?” Drayden asked with a disapproving tut.
Maseo tried to downplay his reaction. “Healing is taking a little longer than expected.”
“Sorry, but I have to say, hearing you cry out gives me ideas for what to do with you in bed when you’re feeling better.” He winked at Maseo for good measure, making the half-shifter laugh despite the lingering pain.
“For fuck’s sake, Bitris,” Sudryl scolded, abandoning his unpacking to approach. “He’s injured, not looking to be bedded by an overenthusiastic lover. He looks as if he went ten rounds with a necromancer and lost.”
“Only one round,” Maseo joked. “But at least I won.”
Bitris guided Maseo toward his bed with surprising gentleness, his usual flirtatious demeanor now mixed with genuine concern.
“Let me help you sit down before you collapse. I’ve been worried sick about you, you know.
When I heard His Majesty carried you off the battlefield, I tried to fight my way through the king’s personal guard to make sure you were still breathing. ”
“He’s not exaggerating for once,” Drayden confirmed, shaking his head. “It took both of us to hold him back. The damn fool nearly got himself court-martialed.”
Maseo lowered himself onto his bed with a wince. While the familiar mattress wasn’t close to the luxury of the bed in the palace he had been using since his return, it still felt like coming home.
Bitris sat beside him, so close that their thighs touched. “Tell us everything. Don’t leave out a single delicious detail.”
“Give him room to breathe,” Drayden admonished, though his eyes sparkled with amusement. “It’s a hell of a hike from the castle to the barracks when you’re injured.”
“I’m giving him what he needs,” Bitris protested, sliding an arm around Maseo’s shoulders. “Tender loving care from his most devoted admirer. Should I fluff your pillow, darling? Massage those sore muscles? Feed you Alsarian grapes while you tell us how you slew the big bad wolf?”
Despite the pain, Maseo smiled. Bitris’s outrageous flirtation was a reassuring slice of normalcy in a world turned upside down. “I think I can manage without the grapes.”
“Your loss. Previous recipients have described my grape-feeding technique as transcendent.” Bitris leaned closer, his breath warm against Maseo’s ear. “Though I’d much rather put my mouth to other uses if you’d let me.”
“What happened out there?” Sudryl asked, redirecting the conversation. “Last we heard, the king was carrying you away, looking as if death itself had claimed you.”
“That’s not far off,” Maseo admitted. “Turns out fighting a shadowmancer who dabbled in necromancy and had a lifelong hatred of me wasn’t the best choice.”
“But you won,” Drayden said, his blue eyes bright with admiration. “You killed Nasume.”
The words still felt surreal to Maseo. “I did, although I almost didn’t live to see the aftermath.”
“Tell us everything,” Bitris urged, pressing even closer.
“The entire camp was buzzing with stories, each wilder than the last.” His fingers played with the hair at the nape of Maseo’s neck.
“One soldier swears he saw you transform into a giant wolf despite being half-human. Another claims you absorbed Nasume’s shadow powers and became a necromancer yourself. ”
Maseo snorted, then winced at the pain it caused. “Nothing that dramatic. I fought him with my sword while he used his necromancy to cheat, but I drove my blade through him to end it all. Unfortunately, he wounded me with his forbidden magic, which auramancers can’t heal.”
He couldn’t bring himself to tell them the truth about how every second stole another piece of his soul away and brought him one step closer to death.
Bitris’s face brightened with forced cheer. “Well, I, for one, think you’ll look sexy with battle scars. The eye patch alone adds a certain dangerous mystique. Very dashing. Very seductive. I may need to fan myself just thinking about it.”
Maseo laughed, only to regret it as pain lanced through his ribs. “Only you would find near-death injuries attractive.”
“In fairness, I find everything about you attractive.” Bitris leaned closer with a seductive expression that Maseo was confident had led to countless men ending up in the dragon shifter’s bed. But Maseo’s heart didn’t belong to his friend.
Sudryl rolled his eyes with fond exasperation. “That’s not saying much when you find breathing attractive if it’s done by someone pretty enough.”
“And our Maseo is the prettiest,” Bitris agreed with a wink. “Scars or no scars. In fact, I’ve been saving my best moves for when you returned. I’ve had plenty of time to perfect my technique while thinking about you alone in my bed at night.”
“What Bitris is trying to say, beneath all that shameless propositioning,” Drayden interjected with a pointed look at his friend, “is that we’re glad you’re alive. When we heard you were gravely injured, we weren’t sure we’d ever see you again.”
Maseo bowed his head. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Sudryl reassured him.
“Did I miss anything?” Maseo asked, trying to lighten the mood.
“When Nasume fell, all the lichen exploded into dust,” Drayden said. “I think it’s finally over.”
While Maseo had heard Kizoshi confirm Ishibiya had transferred to another skeleton, he didn’t want to betray the Ariake clan’s trust in him by divulging that fact.
Sudryl shrugged. “And if it’s not, then we’ll keep fighting until we defeat him once and for all.”
“Exactly,” Drayden agreed. “Whatever comes next, you won’t face it alone.”
“I’ll be right beside you, watching your back.” Bitris’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “And your front. And all the parts in between. I’m very thorough in my protection services.”
“I’m sure you are,” Maseo said, feeling his cheeks warm despite himself. Bitris’s relentless flirtation made everything feel normal again, even with his body battered and his future uncertain.
Bitris draped an arm around Maseo’s shoulders, mindful of his injuries.
“We’re with you to the end, pup. Though I’d appreciate a bit of recovery time before the next apocalyptic battle.
” He leaned in, his lips brushing Maseo’s ear.
“I have so many things I want to show you, and most of them require privacy and stamina.”
Before Maseo could respond, the door swung open to reveal Lieutenant Rylan Norkon. The man’s eyes lit up when he saw Maseo. “I thought I might find you here.”
“Seeking our wounded hero while he’s vulnerable?” Bitris challenged, refusing to move from his position pressed against Maseo’s side. “How predictably opportunistic of you, Lieutenant.”
“Says the man practically sitting in his lap,” Rylan retorted. “I see your subtlety is refined as ever, Bitris.”
“Subtlety is for people who don’t know what they want. And I know what and who I want.” He ran his fingers through Maseo’s hair.
“Funny, I didn’t realize the king had granted you permission to handle his personal interests,” Rylan replied. “Or did I miss that announcement while we were busy winning a war?”
Bitris’s eyes narrowed at the implied challenge. “Sharing is caring, Lieutenant. I’d be happy to demonstrate my caring nature with you as well. I have plenty of affection to go around.”
“Yes, I’m sure your ‘affection’ has circulated plenty already,” Rylan countered with a smirk. “General Jaega has requested Maseo’s presence.”
Bitris pouted, tightening his hold on Maseo. “You’re taking him away? He just got here! We were about to break out the celebratory whiskey, and I was going to offer him a full-body massage to ease his pain.”