It was not difficult. These were motions with which he was well acquainted, and the past few days had left him harrowed, lonely, craving comfort. So it was not difficult to let Linden’s cool, slender hands circle his waist. It was not difficult to reach and pull him closer. It was not difficult…
And it was the most difficult thing he’d ever done.
Something sharp dug into his breastbone when Linden pressed tightly against him. Briar cried out. They drew apart, and the talisman fell free of Linden’s shirt, which trailed laces, undone far enough that Briar could see the arch of ribs expanding to draw in a sharp breath.
“Ah, stupid thing,” Linden said.
He stripped, amulet and shirt both gone at once. It should have been a moment for admiring his lean frame or the flawless skin, unmarked by tithes. Instead, Linden’s aura smothered Briar in an uninvited hug.
He’d thought it would taste like a jolt of coffee in the morning, feel like cashmere on bare skin, smell like sunscreen.
Linden was nothing like that. He was fog on the moors at dawn. Thesnick-snickof scissors cutting silk. He was the first breath of winter air you took after stepping outside in January, or the peculiar loneliness of feeling invisible in the middle of a crowd.
Briar couldn’t determine if it was pleasant or unpleasant, only that it shocked him. Linden stepped in again, lips cool against Briar’s throat, where his pulse scraped like fingernails underneath his skin. All the feelings he tried to suppress bubbled up, panic leading the charge. When Linden’shands shifted under Briar’s clothes, he had to battle the instinct to recoil. He stilled Linden’s hands with his own.
A look of confusion surfaced over the lustful bat of Linden’s eyelashes. Briar had to explain. Wanting this should have come easy, so why was it sohard?
He knew the answer and didn’t want to admit it.
“Can we take it slow?” It sounded uncharacteristically prudish. He’d never shied away from the bedroom before.
Linden looked chagrined. “Ah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“I’m not feeling well, and I don’t want to ruin it.”
“No, of course! Your health is paramount.” As if approaching a spooked horse, Linden pressed a hand to Briar’s forehead. “You are a bit chilly. You should rest.”
Remembering the cards and Death’s grinning skull watching him, Briar added quickly, “We could… cuddle?”
Linden smiled softly and helped Briar to bed. Sat up against the headboard, Briar let himself sink against Linden’s shoulder. Though he was the perfect height for it, though his touch was both gentle and firm, Briar found himself shivering. He tried to relax. Tried to imagine a world in which his feelings weren’t so polluted by prophecies and lovely bearded men who cooed at chickens and baked shepherd’s pies.
“You know,” Linden said, his fingertips tracing lazy patterns against Briar’s shoulder, “yesterday, I intended to ask if you’d let me court you properly.”
This should have surprised Briar but didn’t. Perhaps because a certain prophecy had ruined the surprise. “You did?”
“Shall I take this as a yes?”
“Yes.” He wanted that still. Didn’t he? “I thought you said we should stay friends.”
“Ah. My parents’ influence.” He leaned his cheek against Briar’s hair. “I’m afraid they did not approve.”
“What made them change their mind?”
“They didn’t. I’m here against their wishes.”
Briar tilted his head to look up at him. Linden seemed completely at ease for the first time Briar could recall. It set off a chain reaction of pleasure and guilt. Pleasure that Briar had been the cause, guilt that his heart didn’t quite reciprocate those feelings in spite of Linden’s charms.
It wasn’t fair to him, and Briar knew as much. To make this work, he had to forget Rowan.
So when Linden leaned in to kiss him again, Briar let him. He let Linden’s fingers card through his hair. He closed his eyes, tried to close his heart, too. But kissing Linden felt a little too much like the few times Briar had kissed girls. The knowing how he ought to feel, yet didn’t, was awful.
When Linden pulled away some time later, he said with mild self-reproof, “I should really get back to mine.”
He shifted, climbing over Briar and out of bed, looking around for his discarded shirt.
“You could stay.”
“Regrettably, I have much work to do, but… thank you. I could return later, if it would not disturb you.”
