Page 40 of The Sorcerer's Alpha
Marut’s opinion of Tsetseg’s directions decreased even further. “Let’s go east, then, if we have to choose at random. If the village we come to is the wrong one, I’m sure they’ll let us know.”
Sycamore hesitated for a long moment, so that Marut was about to ask him what alternative he thought they had, before he finally said, “All right. East it is.”
CHAPTER15
They rode east along the river for three days. On the fourth morning, Sycamore was still asleep when Marut woke, and slept for so long that Marut’s bladder finally drove him from the tent without the usual morning canoodle. By the time Sycamore emerged, squinting and puffy-eyed, Marut had bidden the horses good morning, lit the fire, and cooked breakfast.
“Are you unwell?” Marut asked as Sycamore sat down beside him, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders on top of his coat.
Sycamore reached for the waterskin Marut had filled with snow and set beside the fire to melt. “Nothing. A little bit of a headache, that’s all.”
Marut didn’t find this explanation convincing. “You don’t usually sleep so late.”
“It’s nothing to worry about.” Sycamore set the skin down again without drinking. “I think we’ll come to the encampment by tomorrow. I’m still not very good at judging distances.”
“All right,” Marut said, and let him be.
Sycamore was quiet all day instead of drawing Marut into conversation as he usually did. Marut made a few attempts to point out wildlife and landmarks, but when Sycamore barely responded, he stopped trying. He knew what the matter was.
When they stopped that evening, Sycamore spent a long time with the horses. He finally came over to where Marut was setting up the tent and said, “I’m going into heat.”
Marut set down the tent stake he was holding. “I see.”
“It won’t be a problem. We’ll be at Twin Rams tomorrow.”
Marut looked up at his solemn face and could see the worry written in his furrowed brow and the lines beside his mouth. There was a good chance the camp would not, in fact, be Twin Rams, but Sycamore knew that.
“They’ll let me pass my confinement there, at least,” Sycamore said. “Surely.”
“Surely,” Marut agreed.
He could smell the change in Sycamore’s scent as they crawled beneath their furs that night. Sycamore pressed his body to Marut’s and kissed him hungrily. Marut, no fool, obligingly rolled with him as Sycamore turned onto his back. His pulse picked up as he felt Sycamore raise his arms above his head, and beat faster as his hands found that Sycamore had crossed his wrists, waiting for Marut to pin him down.
He wondered sometimes if Sycamore was so sweet and yielding with him as a natural inclination or if he had figured out that Marut could hardly control himself when Sycamore submitted to him. It made his blood steam; it made his heart pound when Sycamore let Marut hold him down and have his way, moaning the whole time as if he were having every desire fulfilled. He was so clever and forceful and filled with magic Marut couldn’t understand, but when he tipped his head back for Marut to bite kisses on his throat, Marut forgot everything that divided them.
He did as Sycamore wanted and held him down and straddled his hips to rub their cocks together, slow and dry at first and then faster and wetter as they both began to leak with arousal. Sycamore made noises that filled Marut with something sharper and more potent than desire, and he reached his peak more quickly than he might have liked, and brought Sycamore off with a tight, quick hand.
“Try not to worry,” Marut said when they were done, his hand on Sycamore’s hot forehead, stroking his hair away from his face.
“I’ve never worried in my life,” Sycamore said, wriggling downward in the bedding to press his face to Marut’s chest, asking to be held. Marut held him gladly. He would miss Sycamore very much while he was in confinement.
Sycamore was trembly and weak-limbed in the morning. A brisk wind carried his scent to Marut as they saddled the horses, ripe enough with his coming heat to send a thrill down Marut’s spine. He hated the thought of Sycamore riding into a camp full of strangers in such a state, but he knew that if he tried to fight Sycamore on the issue, he would lose.
Still, he couldn’t resist saying, “We could ride south again, into the hills. Find somewhere to make camp—”
“Let’s go, Marut,” Sycamore said, and set his heels to Rhododendron’s sides.
They came to the camp at mid-morning. The clouds had cleared out as the morning progressed, and sunlight glinted from the river ice, blinding if Marut glanced in that direction. The village was set some distance from the river, and the inhabitants had plenty of time to observe their approach across the grassland. A number of people holding bows came out to meet them, and Marut held back as Sycamore dismounted to speak with the woman at the front—presumably the matriarch, although she looked much younger than the matriarch at Spruce Ridge.
Even in his Sarnoy coat, Sycamore spoke to the gathered Sarnoy as a Chedoy sorcerer, shrouded in dignity and menace. Marut only realized in that moment how much Sycamore had relaxed his guard while they were alone. Here again was the man he had first met in the palace, rigidly controlled and unknowable. He seemed an entirely different person from the man Marut had woken up with every morning for the past weeks, smiling and sleepy in Marut’s arms.
The conversation went on for longer than it had at the previous camp. Although Marut couldn’t understand what was said, the wary, defensive postures of the Sarnoy and Sycamore’s increasing stillness told him they would not be welcomed here. He wasn’t surprised when Sycamore came back toward him and said, “They’re turning us away.”
Marut followed him, bewildered, as Sycamore mounted and turned Rhododendron to the west, back the way they had come. “Sycamore,” he called, but Sycamore didn’t respond, and Marut gritted his teeth and urged Bunny forward to pull abreast of Rhododendron. “Was that Twin Rams or not?”
“Not. They did at least confirm to me that we chose the wrong direction. Twin Rams is this way. Six days of riding. Even if we galloped the horses the whole way, we wouldn’t make it in time.” He had been looking straight ahead as he spoke, but now he turned to Marut and said, “They told me they have no business with Twin Rams. An old feud, I imagine. Or something of that nature. Well, at any rate.”
“We can find somewhere. A cave—”