Chapter 2 Scene 1

Dros wound up spending most of the next day trying to convince Cosi to let him out of bed. Concerned for his well-being, she’d held him captive with kisses and sun-warmed fruit far beyond the time when he’d normally be up and planning his next attack at the front. He indulged her, because beyond being incredibly enjoyable, he didn’t have a choice. When the Peacebringer wanted something, she got it, whether by guile or stubbornness or tying him to something. She’d used all three on him at one time or another, and sometimes more than one at a time. Eventually she was called away on a matter of the realm, and he took the opportunity to escape and find Nahl in his library.

Gnar launched up from her place by the fire and intercepted him before he’d taken more than a handful of steps into the room. She flopped to the ground in front of him, showing him the fuzzy white belly she very clearly meant for him to pet before moving on. He laughed and obliged her until she squealed with happiness and ran back to her warm spot, full tail twitching happily.

“I think she missed you almost as much as I did.” Nahl favored Dros with a smile from behind his desk. He gestured to the pile of papers sitting in front of him. “I was just reading your reports. Care to give me the shorter version?”

“We battled them back beyond the Ganda’s Horns for the season. Though it was a near thing a few times. They waited until very late to retreat.” He moved around to the far side of Nahl’s desk as he spoke and sat on the edge. The casual dressing clothes made him feel awkward after so many months in armor, and he wasn’t sure at all what to do with his hands without a sword hilt to rest them on, so he crossed his arms over his chest. “Did the Peacebringer tell you her plan for our family dynasty?”

Nahl leaned back in his chair, propping his elbows on the arms. From the set of his mouth, he’d known this argument was coming. “She didn’t have to. It was my idea.”

Dros stretched his fingers so his fists wouldn’t clench. He hadn’t come here to argue. “And what if I don’t agree?”

“There are few enough battleborn left, and no men old enough to father children yet. Would you leave our realm bereft of your skills in the future?”

“Nothing says I’ll breed true to that line.” A very large part of him wished he wouldn’t, but he left that unsaid; a battleborn’s life wasn’t an easy one, and ended all too quickly more often than not. He would never wish that on their children.

“The chance is worth the effort, chore though I know it is.” Nahl grinned, but the expression quickly faded when he saw Dros wasn’t amused.

“Your talents are as vital to her as mine.”

“Your role is important, for keeping our family safe, as well as the land as a whole.”

Anger made him clench his teeth. Nahl came from a family of advisors to the Peacebringers who were infamous for their machinations of bloodlines. “Is that why I’m here? To be a stud in your father’s godsforsaken breeding program?”

Nahl glared down the bridge of his nose, his gray-green eyes serious. “I would hope you know me better than that.”

“Maybe I don’t.”

“It’s rare enough that the reigning trio get along. The Sword and Shield of the Peacebringer bonding as we have? Never.” Nahl paused, searching Dros’s face as if for the first time. “And I would not trade you, not for a dozen battleborn children.”

Dros despised the suspicion that half a year at war had borne. He closed the distance between them slowly, until his hands rested on the arms of Nahl’s chair so their mouths were only a handbreadth apart. He never touched Nahl without permission, the results were too unpredictable. “Does Cosi know how many children you plan to saddle her with?”

Nahl laughed and covered Dros’s fingers with his. He inhaled a long breath as the violent current that was Dros’s battleborn nature washed over him. “I think she’ll warm to the idea.”

Dros leaned in for a kiss that lingered, slow and deep. Nahl’s hands slid up his arms, over his shoulders, and finally around his neck, pulling him in closer. Nahl’s beard scratched his freshly shaved chin as the kiss intensified.

Dros dropped his head to suck on Nahl’s neck, and Nahl tilted his head back with a sigh. Marks from Cosi’s teeth marred the pale skin of his throat.

Dros traced the indentations with one finger. “Oh, the Peacebringer has treated you cruelly, hasn’t she?”

“It’s a burden to keep her appeased when you’re away. I’ve told you. She’s not the thoughtful lover you are.”

Dros kissed the hollow of Nahl’s throat with the barest brush of his lips. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”

Nahl tightened his fingers in Dros’s hair, tugging his head back so their eyes met. “I may not be.”

Their mouths clashed. The bruising intensity of Nahl’s kiss pressed Dros’s lips against his teeth and forced his mouth open. The aggression sparked Dros’s battleborn instincts. Heat flared along the tattoos on his spine, and outward across his arms. His fingers curled, gripping the nape of Nahl’s neck.

Gasping, Nahl drew back from the kiss. Pulse drumming heavy in his ears, Dros pulled away before he accidentally inflicted more pain, or worse.

Nahl caught him by the wrist before he could retreat fully. “You didn’t hurt me. The rage surprised me, that’s all.” The tumult of anger eased when Nahl squeezed his arm. Nahl moved closer without releasing him.

The bloodlust drained away, leaving Dros chilled in the wake of the dispersed heat.

“I’ve got you,” Nahl whispered. He inclined his face to kiss Dros’s chin before pulling him into a hug. “I’ve always got you.”

The warlord part of him recoiled from being so vulnerable and exposed, but he forced himself to stillness, in mind and body. He never had the right words, so he concentrated on how the warm touch of Nahl’s hand and the smell of Nahl’s skin made him feel, like he was whole again for the first time in far too long.

Nahl sighed, a low exhale of breath and pent up longing. “I missed you too.”

Dros stared into Nahl’s eyes and emotion tightened his throat. The word miss didn’t even come close to the aching loneliness he felt every moment he was away. Nahl narrowed his eyes, his face shadowed by an echo of the pain Dros had invoked without thinking. He had to get a hold of himself. Nahl had more than enough to worry about without Dros falling apart right in front of him.

Nahl cradled Dros’s face between his palms. “Don’t shut me out, please. I can help.” His thumb skittered over Dros’s jaw. “I need to help you.”

Keeping him out wasn’t an option, likely wasn’t even possible. The deepest parts of Dros would always reach out for Nahl, no matter how much they could hurt him. Dros pressed his cheek to Nahl’s hand. “I couldn’t push you away, not even if I wanted to. You’re under my skin even when you aren’t touching me.”

Nahl smiled, letting light back into the room. “That’s exactly where I want to be.” He sought out Dros’s mouth with a kiss that sweltered, but ended much too soon. “Tell me something else.”

Dros chuckled. Nahl was clearly trying to distract him, but he didn’t mind. He would much rather spend his all-too brief days of winter being distracted by Nahl than worrying over his legacy or the encroaching nightmares, neither of which he had much control over. “I think about you while I’m at the front. Every night.”

“Oh?” Nahl kissed him again, longer, and teased the seam of his lips with a daring tongue before withdrawing. “When you’re alone in your tent?”

Dros made an affirmative noise, then leaned in to claim his prize.

Nahl dodged his advance. “Tell me what you think about.”

“You writhing under me as I explore every inch of your body with my mouth.” He paused, watching a flush of color creep up Nahl’s neck as his words and the emotion behind them sunk in. “Knowing with every touch of my lips you feel exactly how aroused the taste of your skin makes me.”

Hunger rose into Nahl’s expression, sharp and feral. Nahl tried to pull Dros closer, but this time it was Dros who held back. He pressed one finger to Nahl’s parted lips. “Don’t you want to know what comes next?”