Lover, Destroyer Read online

  “Animals accept you if you treat them with respect.” He fondled Omen’s ears. “The same can’t be said for people.”

  Elarhe glimpsed something of Kite’s scars again—that darkness in his gaze. He wondered what had hurt him so, what he had lost. This man who dressed in black and walked in darkness turned into a boy around animals and dreamed of fields of golden light. His life was the nightmare, but Elarhe didn’t know why. All he knew at that moment was that he wanted to kiss Kite’s mouth.

  He did so with a quiet passion. He stroked Kite’s face, enjoying the contrast of their skin in the fading sunlight. Kite’s looked like cream; his looked like whiskey. He stared up at the taller man and pulled his head down to kiss him again.

  Kite broke away and spread a horse blanket over the straw near the hay bales. He grabbed a riding crop from the wall and sat down on the blanket. He smiled at Elarhe with pure mischief.

  Elarhe snatched the riding crop away from him. With a hand on his hip, he pointed it at Kite. “You leave me alone too much.” He rapped the crop against his palm. “You need a spanking, little boy.”

  Kite bristled. “I’m not a little boy. I don’t like that game.”

  Elarhe twisted his mouth to one side. If Kite thought he would strike him with this thing—well, that simply wasn’t happening. And then, Elarhe understood. Kite didn’t want to be a little boy. He wanted to be something else….

  Kite got on his hands and knees. He tossed his head and pawed the ground. He grinned up at Elarhe expectantly.

  Elarhe pursed his lips. “I don’t beat horses.”

  “I’m a wild horse.”

  “I don’t beat wild horses.”

  “I’m a very bad horse.”

  “There are no bad horses.”

  “I just killed your dog. Stomped it beneath my big hooves.” Kite pawed the ground and snorted.

  Elarhe threatened him with the riding crop. “Get your damned clothes off, horse. I’m going to beat the snot out of you.”

  Kite wriggled out of his clothes. Elarhe decided to remain dressed. If this took a strange turn, he didn’t want his bare skin exposed. He stood there, fingering the end of the crop, while Kite, naked and on all fours, stared at him. Elarhe shrugged. “Now what?”

  Kite turned his backside to Elarhe. “Now you beat me.”

  Chapter 10

  Elarhe reared back and swung the crop full force at Kite’s ass. It landed with a loud ‘crack’ on Kite’s bare skin.

  Kite yipped in surprise and rounded on him. “Work up to it. Don’t just whip me bloody first thing.”

  “A moment ago you said to beat you. And you killed my dog.”

  Kite heaved a sigh and turned back around. “Maybe I just injured your dog.” He cursed when Elarhe brought the riding crop slicing through the air to land on his ass again.

  “Maybe I don’t want to go easy on you. Maybe you just have to take it.”

  Kite looked back at him with such a bewildered expression that Elarhe almost laughed. Instead, he brought the whip down at an angle across Kite’s balls and thighs.

  “You fucking asshole!” Kite fell forward.

  Elarhe went wild on his backside, hitting his ass in quick, sharp strokes. Red, swelling stripes marked Kite’s creamy skin. Kite lay on the ground as Elarhe laid the stripes on top of each other. Elarhe only stopped when he saw streaks of blood. “Oh,” he whispered, horror struck.

  Kite rolled on his side, holding his hands up. “Stop now. Please.” He sounded breathless.

  Elarhe threw the riding crop down and rushed to his side. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened—”

  Kite shushed him with a finger. “I asked you to do it.” He sat up with a grimace. “I just didn’t expect you to be quite so enthusiastic.”

  “What now?” Elarhe asked, feeling small.

  Kite lifted Elarhe’s hair off his ear. “Now,” he said in a smoldering voice, “I fuck you.”

  Elarhe felt his eyes widen. “But no riding crop.” He feared retribution. He dared not imagine what Kite’s strong arms could do to his ass.

  “No. No crop for you.” Kite outlined his ear with the most delicate touch. Again, Elarhe marveled at Kite’s large hands with their long, artist’s fingers. Everything about the man was a contradiction.

  Kite held Elarhe gently and kissed his upper lip with the softness of butterfly wings. They kissed slowly, tenderly. Kite’s fingers were all over his body; their touch couldn’t have been gentler. He eased Elarhe out of his boots and trousers, kissing him the entire time.

  He stroked the inside of Elarhe’s thighs and slid his shirt up, planting small, tongue-tip kisses down his stomach. Down below his navel, all along his thighs. Butterflies fluttered in Elarhe’s stomach. His skin pricked where the cold air hit the tiny wet spots Kite left in his wake.

  Kite mouthed his cock, then sucked it, all of it. There was no teasing, just deep-throated, earnest sucking. After Elarhe was hard and ripe, he carefully turned Elarhe over and lifted his ass in place with warm, gentle hands on his hips.

  Elarhe lay his forehead on his hands, feeling as if he were melting butter. Kite nurtured his hole like a mare licking her newborn foal clean. He widened Elarhe’s hole with his elegant fingers, licked it a few more times, then entered slowly, as one might walk into a temple.

  Kite pushed into him with deep, careful thrusts. Each movement felt nourishing, mindful. They rocked together, slowly, like some luxuriating beast. Elarhe felt as if he were glowing, as if the light he felt so bright inside him was streaming out of the pores of his skin. Neither of them made a sound.

  When Kite reached beneath Elarhe and tugged on his cock, Elarhe heaved a breath. Tears streamed down his face and wet his hands. He came with Kite’s name whispered between tears.

  Kite picked him off the floor and snuggled him close. He kissed Elarhe’s damp face. He stared into Elarhe’s eyes and seemed to want to say something, but he only stared, his long lashes beating slowly like the wings of a butterfly.

  ***

  Later that night, in Elarhe’s room, Elarhe sighed happily as Kite spooned him. He watched the shifting shadows created by the fire and enjoyed the feel of Kite’s body pressed against his, the weight of Kite’s arm slung across his chest. He drew Kite’s hand to his lips and kissed Kite’s knuckles. The wine and a hearty dinner had made his lids heavy. He felt so safe and warm.

  He didn’t realize he had fallen asleep until he blinked up and saw Kite slinking off the bed. He sat up. “Where are you going?”

  “To my room. I can’t sleep here.”

  “Why not?”

  Kite heaved a great breath. “Because I can’t. That’s why.”

  “But—I don’t understand. Everything was going so well. Can’t you drop this—whatever this dominance game is?”

  “Dominance game?” Kite’s voice boomed. “Is that what you think this is? Is everything a game to you?”

  “What? No. It’s all a game to you—not me. Why do you have to twist everything—”

  “I’m not twisting anything.”

  “You’re twisting everything! You’re doing it right now!”

  Kite started for the door. Elarhe almost leapt after him. “Kite! Wait!”

  Kite paused, looking around at him.

  “Please,” Elarhe whispered. “Stay. Please. I’m afraid of closing my eyes.”

  Kite stared at him with eyes that looked black in the light of the dying fire. “I’m afraid of closing mine, too.”

  “Why?” It came out as a whisper.

  Kite moved back to the bed and sat beside Elarhe. He stroked Elarhe’s knee and stared at the floor. “I’ve learned to control my powers when I’m awake. I lose control over my mind when I sleep. I take precautions, but…I could kill you.”

  Elarhe fought a laugh. “You won’t hurt me.”

  “No, I would kill you. I don’t hurt people, Squirrel. I kill them. That’s how my magic works. It kills.” He drew a sharp breath. “I’ll hold you
for a while longer, but then I must take my leave. I have to maintain control at all times, and being tired makes that difficult. I need to sleep.”

  Elarhe wasn’t sure he believed Kite’s problem was that dire, but he could tell Kite believed it. He snuggled against Kite’s chest and kissed his shoulder. “Thank you for choosing to stay with me a little longer.”

  Kite outlined his cheekbone with a slightly calloused finger. “My life isn’t about choices,” he whispered. “It’s about obligation and fear.”

  ***

  The next day was cold and bright—perfect weather for riding. Kite had already left, once again, when Elarhe awoke, so, as soon as he could, he made for the stables. He took some hard, dark rolls and cheese with him and rode most of the day.

  When he returned to the castle, he found a little man waiting for him in the main room in front of the giant fireplace. The man bowed to him and introduced himself as Mouse. “I’m a tailor,” Mouse told him. “I’m here to measure you for your new wardrobe. Kite suggested some styles and fabrics, but I have brought drawings and swatches with me. My lord said you are to choose whatever you want.”

  Elarhe felt like dancing. He had grown quite weary of wearing Kite’s pinned up clothes. He stood still and bore himself with dignity while Mouse took his measurements, but he couldn’t hide his enthusiasm when they began picking through styles and fabrics. He felt as if he were the crown prince of Ayklinn once again.

  He luxuriated in a hot bath when the business was concluded. He closed his eyes and felt that the streets, the bodies in the great ditch, the beating—all of it was far behind him. Only one thing intruded on his happiness; he wished Kite trusted him. He wished Kite would tell him what this secret research was, and he wished Kite would sleep with him. Not sleeping together, he reminded himself, was more about Kite than about him. He wished then that Kite would trust himself.

  ***

  He met Kite for dinner. They sat across from each other at the long dining table. Elarhe preferred the intimacy of the kitchen. Kite seemed to think they should dine like this. After an elaborate meal, they drank port in the library, then retired to Elarhe’s room.

  Elarhe opened the door and squealed. Something sat on his bed draped in lush red fabric and topped with a great white bow. “Is that a present?!”

  Kite beamed. Elarhe pulled off the fabric and unveiled a brass cage with a strange animal inside. It stared back at him with large, wide eyes. Its body and the way it crouched reminded him of a something between a cat and a squirrel. It was about the size of a weasel and was bright green with a lavender topknot, black mask, and black-striped feathers.

  “It’s a feliph,” said Kite, opening the door. The feliph fluttered its wings and hissed at him. Kite scowled at the little beast. “They’re supposed to be friendly. Maybe I got a bad one.”

  But Elarhe was charmed. He squatted beside the bed so that his head was level with the cage. “Hello, feliph,” he said in his gentlest voice. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”

  Kite backed away, giving him room. Elarhe was glad of it; the animal seemed afraid of him. He spread his hands on the bed before the cage. “See? These are my hands. I have hands like you.” He couldn’t help glancing at Kite. “I love its little hands!”

  The feliph tentatively left the cage and examined one of Elarhe’s hands. Elarhe crooned to it the entire time. Finally, it allowed him to stroke behind one of its big ears. That did it. The feliph folded over into his hand, cooing. Making the most adorable noises, it climbed his arm to his shoulder and cuddled in his hair. Its long, prehensile tail wound around Elarhe’s arm, the feathered tuft stroking his wrist.

  “This is fantastic!” Elarhe whispered to Kite. “I love it!”

  “I wanted to get you a kitten, but cats make me sneeze. I’ve never owned a feliph, but I have a friend who has one that he seems to love a great deal. From what I’ve heard, they are rather like cats—small cats with tiny hands and wings, because some god has a cruel sense of humor.”

  Elarhe rubbed his cheek against the feliph’s silken fur. “I love it.” He couldn’t help repeating himself.

  “Now you won’t be alone when I leave at night.” He gave a tense smile. “They’re supposed to be excellent company.”

  Elarhe didn’t know how to react. He stroked one of the feliph’s wings and stared at Kite. “It won’t be the same as having you with me.”

  “It’s not supposed to be the same, exactly.”

  Elarhe felt guilty then. Kite was trying. That was something. “No, no, of course not. I love it, as I said. This was very sweet of you—very thoughtful. Thank you.”

  Kite’s shoulders relaxed. “You’re welcome.” A comfortable silence passed between them. Elarhe concentrated on the feliph, getting it used to having him touch its tail and feet. “You’re good with animals.” Kite sounded oddly proud.

  Elarhe grinned at him. “I am.” Even big, silly blue-eyed ones, he thought.

  Chapter 11

  Elarhe strolled out into the huge main room with Treasure on his shoulder. It was a new day and Kite was gone. Elarhe decided to surprise him. He tore the coverings off the great statue in the middle of the room. A draft horse-sized bronze dragon stared down at him. Treasure flapped her wings, unsettled. Elarhe stared up at the creation, his heart in his throat.

  The raw beauty of the dragon sculpture gave him the encouragement he needed. He moved Treasure to one of the giant bronze talons and ran around the room, slinging coverings to the floor. Clouds of dust filled the room. Elarhe stopped and gazed about him, coughing. All about the room were massive candelabra, awesome statues of marble and bronze, and gorgeous furniture. Everything was beautiful.

  He ran to the mezzanine and ripped down the heavy curtains. Light flooded the chamber. It glinted off the suits of armor stationed on either side of the heavy doors. Dust particles shimmered in the sunlight. Elarhe pushed one of the windows open. Excited by the burst of fresh air into the stale space, he opened every one he could reach.

  Goose screamed. Treasure took wing and flew up to the mezzanine. Her talons scraped Elarhe’s skin as she grabbed his shoulder and ducked beneath his hair. “What did you do?!” Goose cried up at him.

  “I’m reclaiming this castle! I’m unleashing beauty! I’m freeing the light!”

  Goose picked up one of the coverings, muttering to herself. Elarhe ran down the stairs and snatched it from her. “No. We’re washing these and giving them to the homeless to turn into bedding or clothes. We’re going to strip and clean every room. We’re going to open every window.”

  Goose’s face was splotchy with some emotion Elarhe couldn’t name. When she finally managed her voice, he realized it was fear. “H-h-he’s going to kill us.”

  “He might get mad for a bit, but he’ll get over it.”

  “No—I mean he’ll kill us.” She looked around the room, shaking her head. “This is going to overwhelm him. He won’t be able to control himself.” She stared back at Elarhe in horror. “You have no idea what you’ve done!”

  “He’s not a monster. Why are you talking about him like that?”

  “His power—he doesn’t even need to look at you. He kills with a thought.”

  Elarhe remembered the blackness oozing out of the eyes of the hatemonger. But Kite had warned him first. “He doesn’t want to hurt anyone. I’ll meet him outside and prepare him.”

  Goose held her cheeks and gazed about the room as if the beautiful furnishings were rotting corpses. “He covered all of these things up for a reason, Squirrel. Why can’t you leave well enough alone?”

  “I love him.” The flatness of it surprised Elarhe as much as it did Goose. But he meant it, he realized. He meant it deeply. “And I’m not going to let him live like a prisoner in here anymore. This isn’t a fortress, it’s a home. If I’m going to live here, we’re going to make it one.”

  ***

  Elarhe met Kite at the stable. “I’ve done something.”

  Kite rubbed dow
n one of the carriage horses as the groom, Ferret, and the driver, Wren, unharnessed him. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “Move away from the horse,” Elarhe said gently. “Come over here, with me.” Elarhe didn’t believe Kite’s power was as volatile as Goose, and perhaps even Kite, himself, seemed to think, but he didn’t want to take any chances. He had left Treasure with Mole, and now he led Kite away from the horses, the groom, driver, and footman.

  “I removed all of the sheets from the furniture in the main room, and Goose and I cleaned it.”

  Kite simply looked confused. “Why?”

  “Because I wanted to see what was under them, and the place was dusty and gloomy.”

  Kite seemed very, oddly small. “Oh.”

  Encouraged, Elarhe said, “It looks beautiful. It’s so grand. It’s like a palace. I want to clean up all of the rooms.”

  Kite’s jaw tensed. “I purchased all of those things before I was a man. All with the Overfather’s coin. He made me a lord and told me to live like a king, so I did. Or how I thought a king lived when I was young.” He scowled at the ground. “It all seems so tawdry now.”

  “I think it’s splendid. You had good taste as a boy.”

  Kite snorted. “I bought everything that was expensive and paid more if someone could stick a dragon on it.”

  Elarhe grinned. “I love dragons. Is it from a family crest or something?”

  “I have no family,” he said simply.

  “Which is why there are no portraits.”

  “Yes.”

  Elarhe had an idea. “What about the animals?”

  “What about them?”

  “Let’s get portraits painted of Omen and Fortune—and the horses. That should fill up the staircase nicely.”

  “And you?” Kite grabbed his hand and held his fingers.

  “I adore having my portrait painted.”

  Kite squeezed his fingers, chuckling. “Of course, you do. My beautiful Squirrel.” He looked over Elarhe’s shoulder at the castle. He sighed deeply. “You like my furnishings? They bring you pleasure?”