Page 20 of The Thief’s Lord (Catkin Trilogy #3)

Dorset

I n the world of shadows, nothing was certain. Gareth, however, was the moon that shone within the darkest of nights to guide me home. Following his light, I chased passion and pleasure… and hope. Under his touch, I melted.

When he tore off the last bit of cloth between us and rutted against me, I gave way to him—his hands trapping mine, his touch leaving a sting on my ass, his bonds keeping me safe.

Here, with Gareth, I found some semblance of…

assurance. It was intoxicating, luring me deeper into his embrace until I never wished to part.

After a couple of playful smacks, my ass was burning pleasantly.

I moaned for more, but Gareth flipped me over instead and proceeded to drive me crazy with his kisses.

His tongue traced a path down to my chest, where his teeth and tongue drive me to the edge as he toyed with my nipples, the dip of my ribs, and the line of muscle down to… down to…

Thoughts blurred as white dots filled my vision.

I struggled to hold on. I must have said something.

What, I do not know, but Gareth’s tongue eased up, allowing me a chance to regain my breath.

My cock was weeping now, swollen and ready for any touch.

Any at all. Gareth, however, took his time preparing me, yet again nearly driving to the edge.

“Just fuck me already,” I gasped out. “Please—Gareth!”

At my words, Gareth’s scent hit me like an ocean wave. I nearly sobbed as lavender and ocean spray filled my senses, burying me in Gareth even as Gareth buried himself within me. With each vigorous thrust, his brown tail flicked. My own tail was trembling with pent-up release beneath me.

“Dorset.”

Gareth’s rasp opened my eyes and drew my gaze to his face.

His brown-eyed gaze devoured me. Shifting my thighs wider and pressing my knees upward as he pulled my legs over his broad shoulders, Gareth bent down to devour my mouth with an equally demanding kiss even as his length filled me.

I groaned at the fullness of it. It teased me.

My toes curled, and my back arched, seeking that magical touch.

“Ready?”

“Always,” I choked. “Faster. Harder.”

“Your will, my command,” he murmured.

The first stroke, he almost pulled out all of the way, teasing my entrance with the tip of his cock. I mewled and panted like a young tom in rut. I tried to draw him closer, but this dance was dictated by one and one alone. After that, Gareth set a punishing rhythm that sent shivers through me.

Driven from one pleasure to the next, I soared, breaking free of the bounds of this earth. I was a nightingale, one with the night and the glow that we had found together. With each thrust, I lifted higher. All thoughts of touching myself left my mind entirely.

Yet, he was there—his hands on me, teasing me to blazing completion. A few seconds later, as I spasmed around his thick cock, Gareth found his own pleasure. The sense of fullness sent thrills through me. My own cock, now spent, twitched, smearing the cum on my belly.

I didn’t care. Instead, I clung to Gareth, enjoying the weight of him inside me. He didn’t protest. For a moment, we simply breathed, clinging to each other fiercely and refusing to let go. Neither of us wished to return from the heights of our pleasure.

Eventually, Gareth eased back. Once we cleaned up, he curled up with me on our rearranged mountain of pillows. I laid my head on his shoulders and just enjoyed our lingering scents, his deep even breaths. Here, in his arms, I could pretend for a moment.

In the world of shadows, nothing is certain.

That was the reality that I had come to embrace.

Everything was an illusion—loyalty, honor, and love.

Nothing was certain. Fripperies, riches, and standing.

All of those disappeared at the whisper of a night blade.

I had never taken a life, but it was a truth I understood nonetheless.

One minute, your family was happy. Poor, but content.

The next? There was nothing but loneliness and confusion and pain.

Wandering the streets, starving and lost. Such was the turn of Fortune’s wheel.

Yet, here with Gareth, I felt as though I could somehow manage to escape the crushing cycle. Perhaps I would be able to achieve something that would last. First, though, I had to make certain of our futures.

Time spent with Gareth always left me guessing.

Not about him or his intentions. It was clear to me from the first conversation we shared that Gareth, for all his depth and subtlety, was truly a tomcat of honor.

Like his king and his close friends, he made you want to believe that things would work out.

I wanted to believe. Even now, Meryn whispered to me in encouragement to have faith.

No, if I was was having second thoughts about anything, it was about my own plans. In Gareth’s arms, I sought a grain of trust that things would turn out alright. However, doubts whispered in my ears.

The revelation about the king’s guards did not sit well with me.

It was clear that the royal court had been deeply compromised by the Night Blades.

The key to solving this conundrum would be to take out the shadowy head of the Night Blades, the one I called Shade.

And beyond him was another—a faceless master from within the royal court itself.

Lord Morne. That was a name I knew. During my forays with Mourn and the other ruffians he hired, I had on occasion glimpsed the pompous lord.

He was related to the crown and nursed dark ambitions.

Enough to take the Night Blades in hand and assault the throne?

Yes, I thought. After all, Lord Morne has his own shadows. He had us.

Memories of conversations I had overheard between the two toms swam into my memories.

These had been secretive night meetings at Lord Morne’s Rimefrost mansion.

No witnesses. It would simply be my word against a lord and an assassin.

And Mourn would not easily be found either.

Gareth had touched on this earlier. They needed more witnesses.

They required documentation. Proof. One could not simply accost a lord like Morne.

However, I had an idea of where to look. If there was proof out there, I could find it. Letters were a mystery to me, but I remembered everything in detail—the size, shape, and seals of the reports Mourn had handed to his noble employer. I could find them and steal them.

With this plan in mind, I set myself to escape my captors.

For the past few days, I had been looking for any sign of opportunity, and two days after the pleasurable game of strip primero and what followed, a chance arose.

Taking advantage of a late guard switch during lunch, I slipped out of Gareth’s suite unnoticed.

By now, I knew the Rimefrost castle like the back of my hand. Within a few minutes, I reached a side garden with a less-known gate. The one guard at that post had dozed off on a stool. It was all too easy to brush past him to freedom.

For a moment, I stood by the wall, hesitating.

From now on, I would be hunted, not only by my own kind but also by Gareth and the others.

I closed my eyes and inhaled. I had wanted to leave a note, but the pen and I had never been well-acquainted.

I could not trust my weak grasp of letters to spill the secrets of my heart.

After all, learning my letters had never been placed as a top priority for the Blades.

I could only hope that Gareth would understand and trust me.

Slipping my hand in my pocket, I reassured myself with the press of Gareth’s ring against my palm. Gareth will understand , I told myself. He will. Once I prove what he was looking for, he’ll welcome me back. He will.

I reassured myself of that again and again as I made my way to a secure hiding spot in the Lower Rime.

Slipping through alleys and back streets, I found my way to the east gates of Rimefrost, blended in with a large crowd of laborers, peddlers, and common folk, and slipped out to the Lower Rime unnoticed.

As I walked down the main street, my eyes widened with surprise.

Ordinarily, the Lower Rime during springtime was a miserable place.

Beset with rains, the roads would churn into a veritable soup of mud.

The drainage was nonexistent, so large puddles, amounting to small ponds would inevitably form.

Traffic would jam as one wagon or another would get caught in the morass.

Not anymore. Large swathes of the road were blocked off.

Paving was being set down. A proper road was finally being installed.

Further down, I couldn’t help but notice that all of the market stalls had been refurbished, the awnings had been mended, and there was a general sense of hope in the air. What was going on?

A flash of memory brought to mind a picture of Aileen and Alan discussing some plans for the Lower Rime. Something about setting up a medic and apothecary’s clinic for ailing catkin. There was some kind of program spearheaded by the King himself as well as a small council of advisers.

So, it’s true , I thought dazedly, looking about from stall to stall. Below my feet, newly installed cobblestone mitigated the usually marshy conditions of the marketplace. The King—Landis—he really is making changes.

With each turn of Fortune’s wheel, the cycle continues… but what can the will of your kin achieve? Everything.

Meryn’s voice sounded so loudly that I half-turned, expecting to see her right behind me. There was nothing but the usual press of mollies in plain shawls and bonnets, bare-chested toms carting tools and gear, and young kits darting toward a small, freshly painted building. A school.

What power does your will hold, Little Mouse of mine? What will you find beyond these shadows?