Into the Wind (22 page)

“That’s it,” Luka told him as he reached down and unlocked the clasp on the cock ring. “Show me, Odhrán. Show us your beauty. Come for me!”

“Ahhh!” Odhrán shouted as he painted the marble floor with his seed.
Luka! For you, Luka! Only for you!

The king smiled before taking Odhrán’s softening cock in his hand. He rubbed the hypersensitive tip with his thumb, then licked his fingers and rubbed it once again. Too tender to the touch, Odhrán cried out and pulled away to avoid the contact. With his free hand, the king grabbed Odhrán by the wrist and shoved his arm behind him to the point of pain. Odhrán whimpered but forced himself to endure the touch. Luka looked on approvingly.

For Luka
, he told himself.
Anything for him.

“W
HAT
DO
you want for it?” the king asked after he’d called for his servants to clean him up.

Odhrán shivered to realize the king had just referred to him as a thing, like chattel. “Luka?” he whispered as he shivered with fear and recognition.

Luka patted his head and murmured words of comfort. “I couldn’t possibly part with him, sire,” Luka said after a pause.

Odhrán relaxed to hear these words. For a moment he’d almost imagined….

“I can offer you much,” the king said. “Gold. A dukedom if you wish.”

“Really, Your Majesty, I couldn’t—”

“You may think about it, of course,” the king said.

“Your offer is quite generous,” Luka said. “But he’s not for sale. Are you, my pretty boy?”

Odhrán gazed at the floor and whispered, “No.”

“We really must leave, Majesty,” Luka said with a smile. “It’s getting quite late.”

“You will think about it,” the king said, the words sounding far more like a command this time.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Luka said as he led Odhrán out of the room by his leash. “Of course I will.”

Nineteen

O
DHRÁN
CURLED
up at Luka’s side, his head buried under the blankets. He liked the feeling of being wrapped in Luka’s warmth. His body still ached from his time spent with the king two days before, but he relished it. He knew he’d done well. Luka had offered to leave him be, concerned that he might need time to recover, but he’d told Luka he wanted him. He would share his body for Luka’s pleasure, but it was Luka’s touch he wanted to remember.

He still felt uneasy when he remembered the last conversation Luka had with the king. He knew Luka had agreed to think about the king’s offer to avoid offending him, but what if the king were to take him without Luka’s permission? Odhrán drifted into an uneasy sleep, arms entwined about Luka’s waist.

H
E
AWOKE
to the sound of hoofbeats on the cobblestones outside their tiny abode, followed by loud knocking on the front door. “Stay here,” Luka told him. “Don’t let them see you.”

Odhrán did not leave the room, though he went over to the window to see who the visitors were. What he saw left him breathless with fear: several of the royal guards sat atop their horses, while two other guards flanked an older man Odhrán didn’t recognize.

From the window, a normal man wouldn’t have been able to hear their conversation. But Odhrán’s hearing had always been more acute than that of normal men. If they made any move to threaten Luka, he would gladly defend him, even if it cost him his life.

“I am Ukyon, the king’s treasurer,” the older man said. “The king has agreed to your terms.”

Terms?
Odhrán pushed the question from his mind. Of course Luka would do his best to appease the king.

“Indeed.” Luka folded his arms over his chest. “And how do I know I will get what I want?”

Ukyon frowned, clearly displeased that anyone, let alone a commoner like Luka, doubted his word. “My men will take you to your new abode. If your accommodations are lacking, we will make every effort to ameliorate them.”

“How do I know the king will keep his word?” Luka demanded.

“The king’s word is law,” Ukyon replied. “You will have your manor house.” He handed Luka a scroll set with a royal seal, which Luka opened.

Odhrán stepped back from the window. Manor house? Had Luka offered to hand him over to the king in return for a new place to live?

“…asked for was a manor and enough land to live off. Enough servants to tend to my needs and work the land,” Luka was saying when Odhrán came back to himself.

No. He’s protecting me.
Odhrán was more sure of it now than before.
We’ll need to run. Hide from the king’s guards.
He would gather their things, and once Luka managed to send the men away, they would escape the city and head for the coast. He began to pile their belongings onto the bed. It wasn’t that difficult. They had very little. Luka had once said they didn’t need much.

Odhrán was gathering the sheet off the bed when the guards kicked open the door to the bedroom. They threw him down onto the uneven wooden planks of the floor, then bound his hands and attached a rope to his collar—the collar Luka had given him that Odhrán cherished. They dragged him down the narrow stairs, not caring that he stumbled and nearly fell.

Odhrán knew that when they emerged onto the tiny courtyard, Luka would be bound just as he. His Luka. The man for whom he’d willingly sacrifice himself. If only he had vellberries, he’d transform into a giant and kill the guards! But when the guards pulled him by the collar and into the bright morning sunlight, he saw Luka standing beside the king’s treasurer, watching, his expression unreadable.

“Kneel before Lord Ukyon, whore!” a soldier shouted.

Odhrán cried out as the man kicked him in the shins, and he dropped to his knees on the hard stones. His eyes filled with tears as the other soldiers laughed. “Luka?” His voice cracked as he spoke.

Luka turned to the king’s treasurer and smiled. “Feed him two young vellberries when you wish his cooperation. He likes to be fucked while others watch. He will retain his new form for several hours unless you desire a different form, but if you wish him to remain transformed longer, you must give him several more berries.”

Odhrán’s tears burned like acid upon his cheeks. “Luka,” he gasped as he struggled to breathe. “Luka, please. I’ll do anything for you. I’ll become whomever you wish. Please don’t give—”

The sting of Luka’s hand upon his cheek was nothing compared to his tears. He grabbed Odhrán’s collar and pulled it so hard Odhrán could barely breathe. “You will please His Majesty. You are his now, to do with whatever he wishes.”

“Please, Luka,” Odhrán begged. “Don’t do this. I love you.”

“Love?” Luka’s laughter was harsh. “You really are pathetic.” He eased up on the collar and Odhrán gulped in air.

One of the soldiers tossed him over a horse and tied him to it.

“Luka! No, please, Luka. If I wasn’t good enough, I’ll be better. Please don’t let them take me!”

Twenty

O
DHRÁN
BALANCED
like an acrobat on the sill of a second-story window. From his vantage point, he had a clear view of a large walled city. Outside the walls, hundreds of ramshackle homes dotted the landscape. The crumbling façades and broken tiles of their roofs reminded him of sores that wouldn’t heal, festering, ignored. He’d once thought the city beautiful. Now he saw it for what it was: heartless and cruel.

He pushed open the windows and slipped inside the house unnoticed before making his way to a room at the end of a long hallway. A solitary figure sat at a desk, working an abacus and jotting down figures. A large tray of cheese and dry fruits sat on the corner of the desk, a sumptuous snack, carefully prepared and arranged like an exotic fan with various layers.

“In the end, everything has a price,” Odhrán said as he stood with his feet planted slightly apart and drew back the hood of his cloak to reveal himself.

The man at the desk looked up and his eyes grew wide. Luka appeared older than before—fatter too. He likely ate better than he had when he and Odhrán had lived outside the city walls. “You! But—”

“But I’m supposed to be rotting where you left me ten years ago?” Odhrán laughed.

“I’m glad you’re safe.”

“Are you? It seems you’ve gotten what you hoped for from the bargain.” Odhrán leaned on the edge of the desk and narrowed his eyes. In spite of his anger, seeing Luka again made him long for his loving touch.

“You served me well. You could serve me again, if you wished it.”

“There was a time I wanted nothing more,” Odhrán said in an undertone.

“I loved you.”

“Did you?”

“Why do you doubt it?” Luka smiled and reached out to touch Odhrán’s face.

Odhrán leaned into the touch—wanting it and yet knowing it for what it was. Taren’s gut twisted as he felt Odhrán’s shame and self-loathing. “Ten years of hell so you could strike your bargain? Love had nothing to do with it. Not on your part.”

Luka lips curved upward with obvious amusement, perhaps even pride. “You always were clever.”

“Too naïve to be clever.” Taren fought the urge to shiver at the coldness he heard in Odhrán’s voice. He breathed deeply to counter the fire of anger that burned in his belly. Taren sensed Odhrán’s all-consuming love of Luka, even in the face of his betrayal. If Ian ever betrayed him thus….

Odhrán glanced down at his hands and turned them over as though he didn’t believe they were his own. How many men had he killed today? Odhrán felt horrified at what he’d done.
I never meant to hurt anyone. I only wished to be loved.

Odhrán turned to leave. He couldn’t stay here. If he did, he’d lose himself again.

“Stay with me.” Luka’s words were more a statement than a plea. As if he sensed Odhrán’s desire. His weakness.

“I will not be used.”

“You
need
to be used. It is what you live for. What you were born for.” Luka stood and traced Odhrán’s jaw with his fingers.

Odhrán shivered and closed his eyes. Taren felt him waver. He understood the longing to be cared for, to want for nothing, to have others choose for him. He also knew, as Odhrán did, that it never could be. Luka was stalling, perhaps hoping the royal guards would reclaim Odhrán and he’d be rewarded handsomely for his recapture.

“How did you escape?” Luka asked as he feathered kisses over Odhrán’s neck, causing Odhrán to moan. Odhrán’s body responded to the gossamer touch.

“I… I…,” Odhrán stammered, unable to speak, so enrapt was he. Luka was like a drug to him, an addiction from which he couldn’t escape.

“Lovely Odhrán,” Luka said in an undertone. “You appear so fragile, and yet you’re far stronger than you know.”

The haze that seemed to engulf Odhrán’s mind cleared at these words. He pulled away from Luka. For a moment he just stared at Luka and allowed his thoughts to coalesce. “You…,” he began as realization dawned. “You knew all along I didn’t need the berries to transform, didn’t you?” He spoke the words without emotion, but the anger Taren had sensed now seemed to permeate every bit of his body, his mind, his soul.

“You needed to believe it was something you couldn’t control.” Luka’s expression was smug, self-satisfied, as he took Odhrán’s chin in his hand and drew him nearer. “I merely gave you what you wanted.”

“I wanted you.” He was pathetic. Weak.

“You can have me again.” Luka was close enough to kiss him.

Odhrán shook with anger and humiliation. “You know
nothing
about what I endured at their hands,” he shouted, unable to contain his pain any longer. “How they tortured me, beat me, cut me, then forced me to transform to heal my wounds. Do you care to know why they wanted me to heal? They wanted to fuck me until I bled again!”

Throughout all of this, Luka remained still, his face impassive. When Odhrán was done speaking, he said calmly, “Are you finished?”

“What?”

“Are you through playing the pathetic child? Because I see no harm in what was done to you. You’re as perfect as ever, and just as desirable. As you’ve said, you healed.”

“I haven’t—”

“You’re stronger than you were.” Luka smiled, then asked, “What did you do to the guards who held you prisoner?”