“He has my son’s eyes,” Nero admitted. “I couldn’t save my son, but I could save him.”
Casteel reached across and squeezed Nero’s hand. “You did the right thing.”
Nero stared at the sleeping child. “I’ve dragged him into a war zone. He’ll never be safe.”
“And if you’d left him,” Casteel said, “he’d be dead. With us, at least he has a chance.”
They roused River long enough to feed him. He barely opened his eyes, swallowed a bit of meat, then collapsed back into sleep, curled against Nero’s side. Nero adjusted his cloak around Casteel, listening to the forest’s quiet stirrings.
“What about Morven’s estate?” Casteel whispered. “Where will he go when we get there?”
Nero studied River in the firelight. “I don’t know.”
“He could stay there,” Casteel offered. “Morven’s people could look after him.”
Nero snorted. “And leave him while we lead armies or chase prophecies that might kill us? I’m not losing another child.”
Through their bond, Casteel felt the pain beneath Nero’s words. “Then we find another way. We keep him safe—together.”
Nero looked up, surprised. “You’d help raise a child who isn’t yours?”
“He’s yours now,” Casteel said, laying a hand on Nero’s. “Which means he’s mine too.” Carefully Nero laid the sleeping child under a protective overhang on the other side of the fire where he would stay warm, then almost prowled back to Casteel.
Their eyes met, and they closed the distance in a fierce, urgent kiss—soft against the crackling fire. Nero lowered Casteel onto the soft moss, their bodies fitting together with practiced familiarity. The firelight cast golden shadows across Casteel's face as Nero traced the curve of his jaw with calloused fingers.
"I thought I'd lost you," Nero whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "When I felt your terror through our bond..."
"You found me," Casteel replied, pulling Nero closer. "You always find me."
Their lips met again, the kiss deepening as Nero's hands slid beneath Casteel's shirt, exploring the warm skin beneath. Despite everything they'd endured—the battles, the wounds, the sacrifice of the wolf-soul—desire flared between them, familiar yet somehow new.
Casteel arched into the touch, his breath catching as Nero's fingers found sensitive places.
"I never thought we'd have this," Casteel murmured as Nero's mouth traced a path down his throat. "Not with everything trying to tear us apart."
Nero paused, raising his head to meet Casteel's gaze. The silver gleam in his eyes caught the firelight as he brushed a strand of hair from Casteel's forehead. "Nothing will tear us apart. Not Doran, not prophecies, not armies."
Clothing fell away under urgent hands, and when Casteel came, he muffled it with a hand over his mouth, gripping Nero's shirt.
Afterward Nero pulled him close to keep him warm. “Do you trust me?” Casteel asked. "it's like you expect me to leave."
Nero brushed a kiss on Casteel’s forehead. “I’ve loved two people—my wife first, then you. You don’t own my will, just my heart and soul.” He paused. "I suppose I find it unbelievable you'd want to stay."
"Maybe," Casteel whispered, "this is why it's another good thing the wolf soul shifted to you. That we're not life dependent on each other."
Casteel felt Nero still.
"Because," Casteel continued, "we both know we love each other because of our hearts not any compulsion."
Nero kissed him for some time after that and they were silent. After a while Nero spoke again. “You still dream of finding them again, don’t you?”
Casteel’s eyes grew distant. “The mare—she saved me once. I thought about breeding her kind, but now I just want them to live free.”
River stirred and mumbled “Mama,” and both men’s hearts clenched. The boy would carry these scars forever, but maybe he’d also remember the safety they gave him.
“Let’s sleep,” Nero said, banking the fire to glowing embers. “Dawn comes early here.”
They arranged themselves around the fire, weapons close, River between them.
