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“You do a disservice to you both by even thinking that. Gunter, seriously. Is that all this is? Is that what your hesitation is based on?”
“About half.” Gunter set the decanter down with a clink. It was easier to stare at the drink in his hand than Alric just then. “I don’t know how to keep them. How to win them. How to safeguard them if they even agree to be mine. I don’t—Alric, I don’t know how to handle this. What to do. How did you handle falling for Cameron?”
“Not well,” Alric admitted ruefully. He paused, settling back into the chair with a sigh of leather and air. “I was petrified half the time, sure I was going to screw it all up. With all my faults, I couldn’t imagine how I could possibly deserve him. He was too bright, too…everything. And, fortunately, smarter than me and well able to figure out my issues and how to navigate around them. In the end, I felt safe enough with him that I let myself fall, sure he would catch me.”
Gunter turned, this time bringing the decanter with him, as he had a feeling he’d need it shortly. He setting it on the coffee table before taking a healthy swig from the glass.
So even Alric had been afraid. He’d known his king had been nervous about being physically intimate with Cameron because of his scars, and that there’d been some moments when Alric was truly at a loss. But he and Cameron had come together so quickly, with such surety, that Gunter had glossed over those moments.
Now that he was in the same shoes, he found he had more sympathy for past-Alric and what the man had gone through.
“Having him kidnapped by the Jaeggi must have been terrifying,” he realized, the knowledge sweeping over him in an entirely different light now that he knew what it was like to care for someone so deeply.
“Bone-deep terror,” Alric confirmed darkly. The memory was there in the tightness of his eyes, and he drank deeply from the whiskey, draining the glass completely. “God, don’t remind me. I still have nightmares.”
Feeling bad, Gunter popped back up to refill Alric’s glass. Alric didn’t protest as he accepted the glass again and downed half of it promptly.
“Fortunately, Cameron’s savvy enough to have gotten himself free, even before we came to the rescue.” Gunter gave him a reassuring nod. “He’ll be fine, even if the Jaeggi do somehow manage to get their hands on him again.”
Alric stared at him drolly. “May I remind you Nikki also managed to break free of them. How would you respond if they were once again captured by our enemy?”
A spike of fear stabbed Gunter right in the heart. He winced, realizing Alric’s point. “Damn. No. I absolutely do not want Nikki in their hands ever again.”
“Precisely.”
Gunter drank more of his scotch, feeling the pleasant buzz filter through him, relaxing some of the tension riding him throughout the day. The room was starting to do this lazy spin, too, which was interesting. He’d be alarmed about it, but he was far too relaxed right now to worry about it overly much. “Nikki’s too precious, Alric. They’re just too precious. I don’t want anything to happen to them. How can I protect them?”
“Ah, Gunter, you really do feel strongly for Nikki, don’t you?” Alric smiled, face a little flushed. “That’s wonderful. I was afraid no one would go into your dungeon.”
“It’s not a dungeon, it’s a library. And you didn’t answer my question. How do I make sure this never happens again? I don’t want Nikki hurt.” The truth of that ricocheted through him, and he repeated it more forcefully. “I don’t want Nikki hurt. Nikki’s already been hurt enough. That’s why they keep coming to me, right? Because as a dragon, I’ll protect them. Even at night, when they’re afraid, they come to me, and I should stop that. I know I should, but I can’t say anything to them. It’s just a mess.”
Alric quoted with perfect intonation, “‘No strength I find in my own feebleness, to change or life or love or use or fate.’”
Gunter squinted at him. “Who’s that? Poe?”
“Simoni,” Alric corrected. “I found some good poems by Michelangelo Simoni recently.”
“You’ll have to lend me the book.” Gunter loved a good collection of poetry. Especially poetry that made him think and feel his own emotions more keenly. That was the best type.
“I will. But answer the question. What do you think of Nikki? How do your feelings for them compare to any other person you’ve tried dating?”
Gunter pondered. Pondered and drank, and the perfect refrain from a poem came to mind. “‘Oh! I had long in freedom roved, / Though many seemed my soul to snare; / ’Twas passion when I thought I loved, / ’Twas fancy when I thought them fair.’”
