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He grunts, eyes widening, his grip on my ass tightening. He lowers me a little and we both gasp when I’m pressed firmly against the hard bulge of his crotch.
He’s tall enough that, in this position, I’m too low to reach his mouth, kiss him, and I moan in frustration—at not being able to kiss him or touch him skin to skin, too many layers of fabric and fur between us, not a good position for him to take me and fill me up—
“Drakoryas!” someone hisses and it doesn’t even make it through to my lust-addled mind. “Wildmen!”
People have gathered in the yard, observing us, the men dressed in long cloaks, and the women in long sweeping dresses, shawls hiding their hair, scrubbed clean and tidy and proper, and I wonder how I look to them.
“Drakoryas.” I can hear their whispers winging like birds, wings batting against my mind. “Wildmen. Berserkers. Madmen. Dangerous.”
“Fuck. They think all of us are Wildmen.” Taj starts undressing. “Take off the furs.”
That manages to draw my attention away from Kiaran, and I crane my neck to watch Taj undress. My mouth goes dry as I watch my mate pull the fur mantle off him and let it drop at his feet. Underneath, his black shirt stretches beautifully over his muscular chest and arms.
“Peace!” he calls out. “We’re traders, not Wildmen. Here. I have coin.” He lifts both hands, silver eremins glinting between his fingers. “See?”
Cursing, Finnen starts pulling off the fur cape Kiaran gave him, something about gods and goats and fucking, and I wonder if he’s just committed a transgression against his gods and what he’ll do if he realizes later, punish himself or find some other form of self-harm to perform.
Then he turns to me. “Ari! Come on. Off with the furs.”
I let him pull me off Kiaran and set me down on my feet, a little dazed, lifting my arms obediently when he mutters and tugs on the fur poncho I’ve been wearing over my clothes. Cold rushes over my body when he lifts the poncho off me and lets it drop to the ground, too.
“We stink,” Taj says between his teeth while grinning at the gathered people. “That’s not helping our cause. We need a bath. And new clothes.”
“Just how much coin are you carrying with you?” Finnen mutters, and frowns. “Kiaran! Where is he?” He beckons in the general direction of our Wildman. “Furs off. Are you doing it? Ari, is he doing it?”
No. He isn’t. Kiaran is standing there, frozen, eyes glassy and face drained of color, still in his furs and leather skirt and low boots. Despite the trim I gave his beard and his hair, he still looks the quintessential barbaric, bloodthirsty, mad Wildman.
Goddess, he’s gorgeous. And sexy. And I can still smell him, feel his hard body against mine. I—
“For fuck’s sake,” Finnen growls and steps toward Kiaran.
Kiaran who growls and lifts his fists, turning a murderous glare on my priest. Teeth bared, canines looking a little too long, a little too sharp, lights flashing over his face and hands, and… smoke coming out of his nostrils?
The small crowd gasps and shuffles backward.
No, no, this can’t happen. I won’t let it. The blankness in Kiaran’s eyes, the flat fury, that’s not him, that’s something else. It’s as if he’s lost touch with the here and now.
“Kia, no!” I step in front of him, blocking his view of Finnen, and reach out a hand to him. “Here, come here, to me.”
“He’s not a pet,” Finnen mutters.
“Shut up, Finn.”
“He’s damaged.”
“Which one of us isn’t?”
“Ari—”
“Imagine growing up all alone in the wilderness,” I grind out. “Imagine having to fend for yourself against the wild animals, the other Wildmen, the cold of winter and heat of summer, of learning to find food and clothing, shelter and fire. And imagine being alone. So very alone and afraid, having to find your own strength and get used to the echo of your own voice, your own breaths, everyone else too afraid to even approach you.”
Finnen’ inhale is sharp. “I can… I can imagine that.”
I nod, turn my attention back to Kiaran. I reach for one of his big fists and at my touch, he blinks. And blinks again. “It’s okay,” I say. “You’re with us. Let’s take off your furs, yeah?”
He doesn’t reply, doesn’t say a word, but his eyes drop to my hand on his hand and he doesn’t move a muscle as I reach for the leather knot keeping his fur mantle in place. Slowly I undo the knot, finding his sharp blue gaze on me every time I lift my eyes, then push the mantle off his broad shoulders.
The fire in those blue depths is magnetic.
