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Sebastian kept his word and carried Peregrine for the rest of the day. It was a trifle awkward, but also lovely in unexpected ways. Peregrine spent the majority of his time in Sebastian’s arms with his head rested against his chest and his eyes closed, committing the feel of his body and the subtle, clean notes of his scent to memory. When he bored of that, he used those new memories to daydream of what it would be like to carry Sebastian’s clutch.
They stopped after it became too dark to safely continue. While Alistair and Sebastian set about establishing a campsite, Peregrine sat by the camels and watched them work. Alistair flitted this way and that, gesturing at one thing, then another while Sebastian tagged along behind him and did what Alistair instructed he do. By the looks of it, not only would they have a small fire to gather around tonight, but they’d have tents to shelter in as well.
How handy Sebastian was to be able to fashion something like that so quickly and with such ease.
What a wonderful provider he would be.
Smiling, Peregrine tucked his knees to his chest and rested his chin atop them. Tonight, he’d thank Sebastian for all his kindness with his body. He’d hold nothing back. He would ride Sebastian until—
A hand clamped over Peregrine’s mouth and yanked him backward. Before he had time to yell, the cool kiss of a blade’s edge cozied up to his neck.
“Don’t make a sound,” a familiar voice whispered. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you don’t do what I say. I’ll tell you everything you want to know later, but right now we need to go. Get up. Move quickly. And so help me, if you scream, it’ll be the last sound you ever make.”
11
Sebastian
1508
It took every bit of self-control Sebastian possessed to keep from immolating his younger clutch-mate. Not that it would slow him down all that much. Alistair was the fastest healer in the family, bar Everard. The source of tonight’s contention? Besides ordering Sebastian around as if he were a mere servant, Alistair wouldn’t cease nattering on about the things he longed to see in Damascus. There were the ruins of Jupiter’s temple, Trajan’s Forum, the grand palace of the Caliphate, as well as the more mundane—but to Alistair, equally exciting—artisan market, where Alistair would no doubt squander his meager hoard on useless junk. The only time Sebastian was at all interested was when his brother spoke of the legendary steel of Damascus and their recently built, and very sturdy, city wall.
If Alistair was his typical flighty self, they might be in the city for weeks. Dawdling typically irritated Sebastian to no end, but perhaps in that time, he could have something fashioned for Peregrine out of the city’s famous steel. A chain, perhaps, or a set of them. While not as coveted as gold, steel would be more durable, and the dark silver marbleized color would be gorgeous against Peregrine’s pale skin.
He imagined the inky strands wound around the omega’s wrists and ankles, draped over his slender waist, and encircling his hard and weeping cock.
Sebastian shivered in pleasure.
A few weeks in Damascus would not be intolerable should it result in that.
“Ho, there, brother,” Alistair called out, sounding distressed. “I think you’ve erected enough tent poles for the night.”
“What?” Sebastian was still distracted by his thoughts of flexible steel wrapped around Peregrine’s lithe frame.
Alistair pointed down to Sebastian’s groin with a grimace.
Sebastian looked down and saw he was sporting a sizable erection. “Oh, that. Since when are you put off by a cockstand?”
“Since it belongs to my oldest brother, who I know is about to use it on a sweet omega he doesn’t deserve.”
In seconds, Sebastian had his brother’s frock grasped in his fist. He lifted Alistair into the air until his feet dangled. “Watch your tongue, brother,” he hissed in a low tone that Alistair would hear, but Peregrine would not.
“It was merely a jest, brother! A simple jest!” Alistair struggled futilely in Sebastian’s grasp. “Oh, do put me down. I meant no offense.”
Sebastian gave his brother another shake for form’s sake, then let go of his clothing. Alistair crumpled to the ground in an awkward heap.
“I say—” he began.
Sebastian, who was beginning to suspect something was wrong, scented the air. “Where’s Peregrine?”
Alistair gave Sebastian a bewildered look. “Here. He’s got to be here. Where else would he be? Do be sensible.”
“Quiet, runt.” Sebastian stalked about the camp, using all his senses, but Peregrine was nowhere to be found. He let out a mighty bellow of rage so loud, Alistair had to cover his ears.
“We’ll find him, I swear.” Alistair patted Sebastian’s arm. “He can’t have gone far.”
The idea that he was gone at all terrified Sebastian down to his marrow. Peregrine was his and now, without him, Sebastian felt as lost as a babe in the woods. He let out another bellow.
“You sound like a badly wounded beast, brother.”
