Page 12 of The Thief’s Lord (Catkin Trilogy #3)

Gareth

S moke, cold steel, melted wax, and death’s door, the black flowers that grew on the mountainsides of Velamere.

As soon as his scent hit me, I nearly went crazy.

It took all of my willpower to not tear the clothing off his very back.

Somehow, I managed to simply take him with a kiss.

It was a deep kiss, almost violent, but Dorset was strong, and he wanted it.

He had been trained to seek ownership, but I had something different to offer: sanctuary.

After a life of wandering, of being used and taken, he felt safe here. Here, in my arms.

The darkness I sometimes felt in Dorset, the despair and disbelief eased back.

In this place, he and I were neither lord nor thief.

We were two toms, finding solace in each other’s arms. At first, I hesitated, but then with every kiss, it was plain to see Dorset’s desire was not abating.

His scent mixed with mine in a heady mixture that nearly drove me insane.

For a second, I was able to pull back, only to discover that he was attempting to attach himself to me like a sea mollusk.

I got us to the bed, where we hastily undressed.

Bared to my eyes, Dorset’s confidence appeared to melt away.

It was as though he were ashamed of what he was, of his delicate beauty.

Who had taught him to hate himself? Who had instilled such self-doubt?

As far as I was concerned, Dorset, with his pale creamy skin, smattering of golden freckles, and slender lines, was beauty personified.

He was Meryn’s child, through and through. A child of moonlight.

“You’re so… beautiful.”

After all of the books I had consumed alone on a winter’s night, after all the sonnets and poetry I had read, that was what I could say?

Such was Dorset’s power. I could scarcely begin to count the ways he enchanted me.

When words failed, however, I resorted to what I did best—action.

I pulled him onto the bed and dominated him with kisses.

With each touch, I drove him to the edge.

His cock swelled, pearling with cum, now trapped between us.

I allowed my hard, aching length to rub sensuously against his before I licked, nipped, and kissed my way down to Dorset’s swollen member.

At first, with each touch, Dorset responded with muted pleasure, but within a few minutes, I had him groaning.

As my tongue traveled up his length, flicked at his head, and then curled about his reddened cock, Dorset let out a choked half-scream.

I smiled, swallowed him as deep as I could handle, and watched him fall undone.

Not yet, though. Rising up, I nudged his thighs apart and prepared him with the oil I had dug out.

Panting and half-sputtering pleas, Dorset writhed as my fingers slowly opened him up.

Deep within, my finger found that glorious spot that had his cock stiff, bouncing against his stomach and smudging his belly with cum.

“Do you want it, Dorset?” I growled even as I threw his pale leg over my shoulder. My cock nudged at his tight entrance teasingly.

“Gods. Meryn. Gareth—“

Dorset wailed, arched, and scrabbled at my chest. I leaned down to smother his incoherent pleas with another deep kiss, and then I slowly sunk into him. It took everything within me not to rush it. He felt so tight. So good. So ready.

“Let me in, Dorset,” I choked out.

My words only made him clench hard, nearly causing me to pass out from the force.

I barely managed not to come right away.

For a second, I rested and tried to imagine the most mundane and off-putting things.

A desperate bid. I wanted to last for him.

This was not about me, after all. It was about Dorset as well.

After a moment, I slowly drew out and then bottomed out again.

With each slow thrust, I angled myself in hopes of hitting that spot.

When I found it, Dorset let out a long needy howl.

Beneath him, his tail twitched and trembled even as a blissed expression spread across his face. I was giving him what he needed.

Now confident, I upped the pace, enjoying his warmth and neediness.

I leaned forward on one thrust, burying myself particularly deep, and kissed him hard.

My one free hand palmed his cock. Beneath my hands, Dorset’s balls tightened, and his cock swelled even further.

I teased it, sending him over the edge. He came with a shout, right in my hands, and riding the wave of his orgasm, I came after.

For a few seconds more, I clung to those sensations. I wanted it to last forever. Just Dorset and I . The world without, all of its expectations and responsibilities, was forgotten. Dorset and I.

With heaving pants and a sigh, I pulled out and slumped by Dorset, cradling him close.

Almost instinctively, he turned to my touch and snuggled deeper into my arms. He rested his wavy curls on my shoulder and hummed contentedly.

My hand ran down his sweaty back, drawing a half purr from him. I felt like purring myself.

Part of me knew that this should never have happened.

I was officially compromised. When it came to Dorset, I could no longer claim to be absolutely objective.

Truth be told, I hadn’t been for some time.

Did it happen the first night I trapped him in my office?

Was that when I knew? When I saw those brilliant green eyes?

I love Dorset. In this moment, it was easy to admit.

At the same time, though, I still had my duty.

What was I to do? I had to bring Dorset to the capital, danger or no.

Rimefrost and all that it entailed waited for both of us.

I stifled the heaviness that began to gather in a cloud above my head.

Instead, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the fading scent of driftwood and steel, of ocean spray and death’s door.

It could not last, so I could only treasure it even more.

“You like him.”

My grandmother’s voice broke into my thoughts the next morning when I came down for breakfast. She stared at me over her silver spectacles.

Today, Granny Bren had pulled her long white hair back into a messy bun.

Her no-nonsense hunting attire was wrinkled after a long day of activity, but there was an energy there, as always.

In some ways, looking at Granny Bren tired even me out.

I had emerged from an early morning ‘meeting’ with Dorset to find my maternal grandmother sitting at my hearth and knitting a pair of stockings for Bella.

Even more disconcerting was the knowing look in her eye.

Could she smell Dorset on me? Or something else?

I sat down slowly in my favored armchair opposite her and stared at her, trying to keep as neutral as possible.

“Him?”

Granny Bren clucked her tongue at me and rolled her eyes.

“Goodness, Gareth. I wasn’t born yesterday, you know. I do have eyes… and a nose. As does Kaleigh.”

Damn their eyes and noses.

“Oh?” I asked. “What does she say?”

“He’s sweet on you. You’re sweet on him.” Granny Bren smiled then. “And he’s Munni. I could tell that a mile off.”

“I’ve taken other lovers that were Sunna,” I said waspishly. “I don’t fall in love with Munni on purpose.”

“No,” she said. “You fall in love with the helpless.

Willem, bless his heart, was terrorized by his father.

Took him to an early grave on Marrasol, the poor tom.

Erik… torn between two worlds and that unfortunate arranged marriage which has gone about as well as you might imagine.

That one Sunna warrior who had to move south for family. Then Averil—“

“Gods, Gran, must you…”

”—the tortured bard.“ Granny Bren shook his head. “Even the King. Well, not that you’re in love with young Landis. Thank goodness. I would not wish to hear that some Munni warrior skewered my grandson over a lover.”

“Alright, Gran—“

“But you take my point. You are a protector through and through.”

“Am I though?” I wondered aloud.

I gazed at the fire that had been set alight in the hearth. At my elbow, a glass of whiskey waited, along with my pipe and book. Yet for all my creature comforts, I felt restless. A part of me wished to be upstairs. My wayward thoughts almost made me blush. Almost.

“I think I might fail this one time,” I added darkly.

“Hm. Or perhaps, for the first time in a while, you are thinking with your heart.”

“You can’t think with your heart.”

“After Averil, you probably regretted chasing your desires, but Averil can’t define your life. And no tom—or molly, for that matter—can live without a heart. Your mind is as sharp as a fish fillet, Gareth, but only chasing reason... Well, that’s not truly living, is it?”

I groaned, pinched the bridge of my nose, and tried not to think of the cock up I’d made with Averil. Averil was a mistake in terms of the heart and, perhaps, my finances. I never cared much about coin though. What did matter were my oaths to the crown. I had promised to keep Landis safe.

Worse than Averil, Dorset and his connections could pose a real threat to what I truly cared about. All those years of investment, thrown away? I mused. Can I do that after all this time? Or is there a middle ground that I can find for Dorset and I to walk?

“There is too much at stake, and yet...”

“Give him time, Gareth.”

“Hm.”

“And do have him down for breakfast with us,” Granny Bren added. Her golden-brown eyes twinkled at me. “The children were asking after him. I hope you won’t lock him away for the entirety of his stay here.”

I lowered my hands to stare at her in disbelief. After everything...! I groaned and rolled my eyes.

“Fine. I’ll bring him down for breakfast.”

“Good. I’ll let the others know that breakfast is starting soon.”

“How many are there?” I asked, wincing, hardly wanting to know exactly how many Wrights had invited themselves over for breakfast.