Page 63 of The Lost Art of Revealing Hidden Truths (The Lost Arts #3)

I love you so much, my son,

Your Father

Brannal carefully pulled the letter out of his hands, set it to the side, and then maneuvered Perian around until they were facing one another so Perian could bury his face in Brannal’s chest and cry.

He’d assumed his last words with his father had been more than four years ago. He hadn’t thought he’d ever get answers to any of his questions—and those questions had grown exponentially when he learned about what he was—or what he’d thought he was, because his father had told him so much!

It settled something inside of him, something that had been tilted badly awry since Cormal had made that awful accusation. His father was still his father. And he’d known what Perian was, and he’d still loved him. And that meant so much to Perian.

So he was sobbing into Brannal’s chest, clutching at him like he was worried Brannal might be going somewhere, but Brannal’s strong arms were wrapped around him like they would never let him go.

Unconditional acceptance, Perian had learned, was actually rare and very clearly not the societal norm.

But Perian’s father had loved him, had shaped their whole lives to protect him and keep him safe, and now Perian knew the truth.

He still had a lot to figure out, but he felt so much better for having these answers.

“Oh, Brannal,” he sniffed. “I’m a child of two worlds.”

Brannal nodded, smiling at him. “All the ‘noes’ that went with all those ‘yeses.’ You’re a mixture of both human and carnalion.”

Perian nodded. It really did make a lot of sense .

“I couldn’t figure any of it out,” he confessed. “I wondered how I could come from another world and not know it, wondered if demon babies somehow arrived here, how Father could have ended up with me. But I am his son.”

Brannal kissed his forehead gently. “You were always his son.”

Perian nodded, sniffing back more tears.

“But I have roots again, Brannal, roots that I understand, a blood connection.”

And Brannal nodded. “I’m sorry if you felt lost.”

And that was exactly it. “It was like everything I knew in my life was suddenly a lie. Everything . It was like being tossed into the ocean, no land in sight, no idea which way to start swimming, and that was just… my new reality. Forever.”

Brannal’s arms tightened around him.

Perian blew out a breath. “And then you crested a wave and swam right out to me and declared that if this was my new home, that was fine, you’d join me here.”

“I’m a strong swimmer,” Brannal said, which made Perian laugh, though it was still a little shaky.

“This is like spotting land again. I would probably have found it just with you. You’re really good at grounding. But this was like finding my old land again, and that means so much to me. It’s like—”

He tried to figure out how to describe it.

“Not needing to discover a whole new island in the middle of the ocean?” Brannal suggested.

Perian grinned at him. “Yes, exactly. There’s a foundation after all, and now we can keep building together, but there’s something already there.”

“Your father loved you so much.”

Perian sniffed, nodded, and nudged closer so that Brannal would hold him ever tighter, because there was nothing better than that. Perian laid his head down on the other man’s shoulder.

“Yes, he did. Thank you for being frustrated with the drawer.”

Brannal laughed, his hands sweeping up and down Perian’s back in a lovely, soothing caress.

“You’re very welcome, dear heart. I am always happy to be of service.”

And just like that, Perian got distracted. He peeked up at the other man.

“Be of service? Really? ”

Brannal carefully moved the letter further out of the way and then slid to the floor between Perian’s thighs and sucked Perian off on the settee in his father’s room—which, if he’d thought about it, he might have avoided, but it turned out fine.

“Most people don’t recover this quickly, you know,” Brannal said, once he’d gathered the limp, entirely satisfied Perian up and carried him—and the letter, because he was smart like that—back to their own bedroom. He settled them in front of the fire.

“Hmm,” Perian said. “I’ve only ever had sex regularly with you. You seem to recover quite well.”

“Largely thanks to you, I believe,” Brannal admitted, and Perian could hear the smile. “I wasn’t having much sex before you, but I have certainly noticed that you’re able to coax a response out of me in pretty much any circumstance. I’m definitely not complaining.”

Perian grinned.

Brannal’s fingers ghosted down his back, sliding over the curve of his ass.

“And you do realize that most men need to be, uh, prepped more than you do? More stretching or more oil?”

Perian hummed again. “You know, I thought for years that either not all men were created equal or that some of them just weren’t as turned on as I thought they should be?”

Brannal laughed. “Oh, really?”

He nodded. “They taught me at the house of pleasure that preparation was important and it was essential to figure out what made each partner most comfortable, which could mean prepping yourself a bit more so that a partner thought you were ready. I never want anyone to feel uncomfortable, so I always tried to be accommodating.”

Brannal kissed him. “I certainly appreciate how you accommodate me.”

Perian’s grin was lascivious, but then he sobered to admit, “Maybe I should have realized I wasn’t like everyone else.”

It was only now that he fully appreciated that humans weren’t able to relax their muscles as readily as he could, nor did human men produce their own lubricant.

Brannal’s gaze was clear and bright. “You say that like it’s a bad thing, dear heart. I’m delighted by everything about you, including the fact that you’re always ready for me.”

It made sense that carnalions were able to have sex with fewer impediments than humans, but Perian preferred to think about it like that. Perian was always ready for Brannal .

Perian leaned in to kiss him, then leaned his head against Brannal’s shoulder and gazed into the fire.

They sat like that for long, lazy minutes, and then Brannal asked, “Would you like to get cleaned up in the bath?”

“Yes, that’s a good idea. Ooh, that reminds me,” Perian remembered, perking up. “Did Molun write you that he was finally able to have a bath the other day?”

Brannal laughed. “At least three pages about how the water felt on his skin.”

Perian grinned, relieved and amused, because Molun had done the same for him.

“He was so excited,” Perian agreed happily. “Arvus added a postscript that it’s like herding cats, and he’s pretty sure that he’s going to need to tie him to the bed soon. And Molun added a post postscript to ask why he hadn’t started doing that yet.”

They laughed together.

“I’m so glad he’s all right,” Perian said more seriously, swallowing. “I’m sorry I’m not there. Just to see him, but I wonder if I could have helped more with the healing.”

“You helped so much,” Brannal assured him, sounding so relieved.

Perian nodded, trying to breathe out and dispel that feeling that he should have been doing more. It wasn’t like he could sneak back into the castle and crawl into Molun’s bed.

“I hope they’re all right,” Perian said on a sigh.

“Of course they’re all right.” Brannal sounded surprised that Perian would think anything else.

“They don’t have you anymore,” Perian said quietly. “Or me.”

Brannal’s face hardened slightly. “And that wasn’t their choice, unfortunately, but it wasn’t our choice, either. The Queen and Cormal are going to have to live with those consequences.”

“Promise me you won’t regret it?” Perian asked, the words slipping out.

Smiling softly at him, Brannal said, “I promise.”

Perian made a face, shook his head. “No, that’s unfair. Promise me that if you do start to regret it, we’ll talk about it?”

Brannal looked mutinous for a moment, but he seemed to take in the resolution on Perian’s face, and after a moment, the obstinacy smoothed out, and he nodded.

“I assure you that I don’t regret it at all, and should that change, I will definitely talk to you about it.”

“There are options,” Perian reminded him. “You aren’t stuck here. ”

“I’ve never been stuck here,” Brannal pointed out. “This is where I choose to be.”

Perian smiled at him, then tugged him closer. “I think you said something about a fast recovery.”

And Perian could feel it, tickling along his spine, the rising desire in the other man, something that it hadn’t occurred to him other people couldn’t sense the way he could.

Brannal grinned at him, and in a move too fast for Perian to follow, he was suddenly on his back on the rug with Brannal on top of him, grinding down against him and showing him just how recovered he was.

Yes, Perian could definitely get used to this.

What with all the sex they were having and falling into a routine, it took longer than Perian had meant before they got to the doctor’s book.

Perian had loved every gesture that everyone had sent that showed their support of him, but the book had sat on the shelf for several weeks before he found it again.

“Oh,” Perian said, as he flipped it open. “It’s a novel. I was totally imagining some sort of special text. I thought I might start making salve, but I’m not sure I can do it on my own.”

Brannal said, “I’m sure Elorinn would be happy to send suggestions and resources. Are you planning to hurt yourself a lot?”

Perian made a face. “I certainly hope not. But maybe we could give them away in town.”

“Or sell them,” Brannal suggested. “That would cause fewer questions.”

“Or sell them cheaply ,” Perian correctly. “But they’ll be good quality.”

Brannal nodded, like they’d come to a solid compromise, and maybe they had.

Perian eyed the book. “But we’ll start with this. I wonder why she wanted me to read a novel.”

“There’s a note,” Brannal said. “It was addressed to both of us, so I didn’t open it.”

Sure enough, an envelope had been tucked into the pages. Perian plucked it out and opened it.