Page 8 of The Thief’s Lord (Catkin Trilogy #3)

Dorset

G areth’s tongue gently swept across my bottom lip, inviting me to take the kiss deeper.

In reply, I gripped his jacket even more tightly, despite the shackles on my wrist. Rising up on my tiptoes and angling my head in response to his dominating kiss, I moaned throatily.

In response, his grip lowered to tighten around my waist, and he growled.

It was a possessive sound that shook me from head to toe, sending shivers down my spine, prickling over my skin, and pooling heat in my belly.

Against his thigh, my cock began to harden.

He’s strength… his kindness. I sighed and my lips parted. My tongue found an equally agile partner. He is unlike any tom I’d met before.

Until now, I had given kisses and had kisses stolen from me.

When he trained me, Mourn had challenged me in many arenas.

Dragging me to his bed, he had initiated me with the ease of years of experience.

I had experienced bliss I had never known, but, when it was all said and done, when he shoved me off the cot and told me to seek out my own bed, I felt so hollow and empty. I felt alone. So alone.

Will this be any different? I wondered. Where will you take me, Gareth? What world will you show me? The ephemeral, illusory life of a landed tom? The shadows of your world mirrored by mine?

A hand rose to caress my cheek, and then strong fingers entwined themselves in my hair, brushing against the root of my ears.

It felt so different—comforting and warm.

As though he had found some treasure. The warmth within me inflamed me further.

My hands rose. I wanted to throw my arms about his neck.

The clink of chains brought me back to Sumarene with a thud.

I broke the kiss suddenly, half-dazed. We stood there for a moment, panting as we attempted to catch our breath.

His body, hard against mine, covered every inch of me.

I could feel his heartbeat slowing, his nose brushing my forehead and hair…

and the ghost of his lips on mine. My eyes squeezed closed, and I exhaled a trembling breath.

I’m his captive , I reminded myself. Nothing has changed.

There is another path , Meryn’s voice seemed to whisper. Another road toward the light.

If there is a path , I replied back in thought, how could I walk it? When Mourn and Shade find out, I am a dead tom. There is no way Gareth can save me or protect me.

Or… A voice spoke up. A voice that sounded like Mourn. You use this opportunity to win your captor over. Once Gareth lets his guard down, flee. You could even… kill him. I’m sure you could find a way.

A shiver of revulsion ran through me. I had to face the truth: I was no killer.

Any thoughts that I entertained about taking Gareth’s life were simply empty words.

A thief of my caliber would never stoop to using a blade, but if I was to return with security to the Blades, what other choice did I have? The path before me had narrowed.

“I’m sorry.”

Gareth’s voice broke the silence. I froze. I blinked, staring at the patch of grass and bushes to the right of us. Then, my gaze drifted upwards to meet Gareth’s dark brown eyes. There was worry there. Not regret. Worry. Concern. For me? My ears flickered back and forth, uncertainly.

“It wasn’t right,” Gareth said.

“Yes.” I lifted my chin and tried to glare at him. “Anyone in this business knows that you should never show weakness to the enemy.”

“Weakness?” Gareth looked confused and then chuckled dryly. “Hardly. After all, I am not the one chained, Little Mouse. You are the one disadvantaged.”

My tail fluffed out, and my hands curled into fists. He was right, godsdamn it. He didn’t have to say it like that, though. I gritted my teeth and growled. Gareth simply eased back and ruffled my hair as though I were a naughty child.

“Sorry, Little Mouse.”

“I’m not Little Mouse!” I snapped in an exasperated huff.

“Well, you’re not Erlin,” he said.

“I-I-” I stuttered to a stop, practically spluttering. “H-How do you know?”

Gareth simply raised an eyebrow in silent skepticism.

I huffed. He stepped forward, once again looming over me.

His fingers rose to trace a path along my cheekbone, and Gareth tilted his head, assessing me in silence.

A small smile quirked the edges of his lips.

Those sweet lips that had tasted of beer and bacon and salted eggs…

And there was a lingering scent—ocean spray, sea lavender, and burnt driftwood.

Gareth had burned for me. My head sagged forward to rest against the hard planes of his chest, inhaling the scent of his desire one last time before the wind took it from me.

“Dorset,” I whispered softly.

“Dorset?” The way his tongue formed the words with his capital accent has me nearly groaning. “Dorset.”

“Yes,” I mumbled. “It’s my name.”

“Hm. Dorset sounds… much more like you, Little Mouse.”

My head whipped up, and I glared at him outraged. The anger instantly dissipated at the sight of the shit-eating grin on his face.

“I didn’t promise to stop calling you Little Mouse,” he pointed out with a short laugh.

I huffed.

“Now,” he mused aloud, “let’s see what we have here. Everything we need, I hope. Let’s get settled for the night, Dorset. Then we can talk some more.”

“What if I don’t want to talk?” I stared out across the swathe of marsh and the distant gray shoreline of the sea. “Are you gonna torture me here and drown me and dump me here?”

I shivered, suddenly realizing how far away we were from any other catfolk. No one would notice that I was missing. Mourn and Shade, but they’d just give up after a while. Probably. They were my masters, not my family. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and calmed my racing heart.

“I should hope not.”

Gareth’s voice was light, but I caught an undercurrent of tension there as well. His back was to me since he had begun to unstrap the gear off his horse’s back. I couldn’t read his face or his body’s posture very well, but there was a sag to his shoulders that hadn’t been there before.

“I was more thinking of a campfire and some grilled fish and maybe some stargazing.” Gareth turned to look back at me. “Are you alright, Dorset? Perhaps you’re tired.”

“Oh. No. I am fine,” I said, turning to tug at the rope around my bedding. “We have to prepare the hunting cabin, right? Daylight won’t last forever.”

That’s right , I told myself. Daylight doesn’t last forever.

Neither do kisses or promises… or whatever Gareth is offering me.

Sighing, I focused on my work. Over the past few days, I had experienced so much, and yet, in so many ways, I felt as though I had achieved nothing.

I was still at the crossroads. I had a decision to make.

There is still time…

A week later, I still stood at the crossroads, captive to a difficult decision. Life with Gareth was not what I had been expecting. Considering what I had surmised the first day of our arrival, I hadn’t expected the quiet life we formed together.

For most of my life, I had peered through windows, looking in from the dark at the warm glow of fires and cheerful faces gathered around communal suppers.

I had longed to be one of them, wished to come in from the dark, but there was no hearth open for me.

What consolation would I find? The bitter one of rejection.

It is just a dream, an illusion built on the backs of others. That was what I had told myself.

Gareth was one among many lords who had leeched off their people.

I wanted to believe that, but watching Gareth’s assurance as he hunted, fished, cooked food, cleaned, and tended the cottage, I had a feeling that Gareth was not one to allow others to wait on him hand and foot.

He preferred to care for himself. A capable tom.

A powerful lord. Intelligent. Swift. Assured. Experienced. Powerful.

Dangerous , I repeated to myself over and over again. He is dangerous. I could only imagine what Gareth would do when faced with the assassins of the Blades. Mourn and Shade. How would they fare?

It was a question that I pondered with every sunrise and sunset.

The days blurred into one. Every morning, I rose from the simple cot beside Gareth’s.

It was narrow, but made of good wood, and Gareth had replaced the hay-ticking of our mattresses during a day trip to town.

After we aired the sheets, I found myself rolling into bed with a blissful sigh every night.

Each day, we moseyed through the forest and marsh together, sometimes on horseback, sometimes on foot.

We hunted and fished. On occasion, Gareth would chain me to the bed and travel to some village to pick up fresh produce.

Over the fire, we would grill the pheasant or fish we had caught.

Gareth would add herbs he gathered. Explaining each one to me, he added savory herbs that had my mouth watering over the scents.

Seated on a rough log, side by side, thigh brushing thigh, I felt so close to him. It was as if, for a moment in time, we were one… and when night fell, and the starry blanket of the sky pressed down on us, we lay side by side in the grass and named the stars.