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So he stretched himself out on the ground, folded his hands behind his head, and settled in to rest. He’d taken the liberty of unfastening his kaftan to let the air cool his skin. Hopefully Seth would enjoy the view—and maybe consider the opportunities he was wasting.
But the Curator, Raider saw through slitted eyes, was gazing into the distance and fiddling with the cork of his water skin. Raider closed his eyes, opting to ignore the brooding silence.
Raider had just started to doze when Seth startled him with, “So … about yesterday.”
Raider’s eyes popped open. Seth was still staring out across the scrubland but instead of pensive he looked stiff. When Seth didn’t go on, Raider prompted, “What about yesterday?”
“I … apologize.”
“You did leave me pretty frustrated.”
“No, I mean …” Seth swallowed visibly. “I choked you.”
“Which I clearly enjoyed,” Raider pointed out, confused. How had that not been obvious?
“Look, we don’t need to discuss it,” Seth said, as though he hadn’t even heard what Raider had said. “I just need you to understand that I know it was wrong, and I’m sorry, and it won’t happen again.”
Raider sat up. “Well, I don’t understand that because there’s nothing wrong with that kind of thing if both people—”
“You think that’s okay?” Seth’s head whipped toward Raider. “You think it’s okay for me to grab you by the throat and hold you down and fuck you?”
Raider’s body rocked as arousal flooded him. He closed his eyes at the image that flashed through his mind. “Fuck, Seth.”
Raider opened his eyes to find that Seth was staring out across the scrubland again, his expression grim. Raider snatched the water skin from him, mostly to get his attention.
Seth’s eyes came back to Raider as he lifted the water skin to his lips and tilted his head back to drink. And, yes, the man watched him, watched his throat.
And, yes, his eyes drifted down to where Raider’s cock was tenting his loose pants. A flush hit Seth’s cheeks.
Raider lowered the water skin and corked it aggressively. “It’s absurd, making us both miserable. What’s the point?”
“The point is that, with you, I don’t trust myself. I don’t know why the hell I respond to you like I do.”
He was responding now. Raider could see it, the ridge of his erection inside his pants.
“And, what?” Raider challenged. “You think you’re going to hurt me? I hate to break it you, but you don’t have a prayer of hurting me. I assume you’ve been fucking fragile little flowers, but I promise you, that’s not what I am. Anything you can give, I can take—and I want to. And you want it too, so stop being such a damn coward.”
Raider was sorely tempted to grab at Seth, to press his point, but that would give Seth something to fight, to push away, and the man had already proven himself fully capable of self-denial.
Besides, the horses had eaten the available grass, and it was time to go. As they finished up at the well, refilling the water skins and checking tack, they didn’t speak again because, surprise, the overthinker was thinking. It was in his brooding scowl, his tension. He was still visibly aroused, but he refused to meet Raider’s eyes.
Fine. Let him agonize. Surely his overly complicated brain would eventually circle around to the simple truth and he’d realize that Raider was right.
They headed out across the scrubland again as the sun climbed. Distracted by his frustration and the ache in his groin, it took Raider longer than it should have to notice the prickle of warning along the back of his neck.
Startled, he scanned the rocky hills mounding around them, using the telescopic range of his arcane eye to hunt for threats.
“What is it?” Seth asked.
“I’m not sure. Something.”
Raider caught a flash of a movement. Even with his enhanced vision, the animal’s tawny coat was almost impossible to distinguish from the craggy slopes, but Raider would know one of those anywhere. And where there was one, there was a pack.
“Shit.”
“Bandits?” Seth guessed.
“Jackals.”
