Page 115 of Aryn

We learn that Nyx’s parents are still living, as are the rest of his siblings. They moved to a small farming community further north while Elowen and her shaelin stayed in Maelithryne. Brihn needed their help with the plants, and after he saved them from the shitty situation they were in, she felt she owed it to him to stay.

Her sly grin reminds me of her brother as she leans in to tell me it wasn’t a hard choice. She says she loves the busier village because it gives her things to do, then lowers her voice to a whisper when she adds there was another reason to stay. She winks as she passes me a mug of strong ale.

We spend the day talking and eating until everyone is too full to move. Eventually, Aryn and I excuse ourselves from the group, and he slips his hand into mine as we step outside into the cold evening air. It’s a sharp contrast to the warm hall, but tonight, I enjoy the chill.

We don’t get far. The taverns are booming, and a group of locals waves at us to join them. Before either of us can protest, we’re pulled inside. People stand shoulder to shoulder along the bar, and we nearly have to yell to be heard over the loud conversation. We’re dragged to a corner table and handed shots of a clear liquor.

Aryn and I meet eyes, then grin and throw them back. It’s potent enough to make me cough as it burns down my throat, but the aftertaste is mild, almost floral.

We only have three shots each, but it’s enough. By the time we stumble into to our room, we’re both pleasantly tipsy, cheeks flushed and balance a little loose. The second the door closes, I push Aryn against the wall and kiss him the way I’ve wanted to all day.

Watching him with Nyx’s family did something to me. The easy way he listened, the gentle patience that never wavered… it reminded me of the family I lost so long ago. It reminded me of the times before life made me so hard.

It made me want this—something real—with him.

I kiss him like I’m starving, tongue sliding against his and tasting the sweet liquor on his breath. He makes a pleased sound as his hands slide up my chest, thumbs brushing my nipples over my shirt. The alcohol makes every nerve ending come alive. All I want is to feel him, to touch him everywhere.

“I’ve never felt like this before,” I murmur between kisses. “Never. Aryn, fuck, I think I—”

He stops me with a finger against my lips, eyes serious even through the haze. “No. There’s no maybe here. There’s no think, rha khor. You don’t give that to me until you’re sure.”

“But—”

“No,” he interrupts, more insistent this time. “If you let that into the world—if you give that to me—then change your mind? I won’t survive it.”

His words feel like rejection, and they sting. My eyes drop to the ground, but he grips my chin and kisses me again, deep and sure. “I want it,” he murmurs against my lips. “Gods, I want everything. You know that, don’t you?”

I kiss him harder to keep either of us from admitting more. If he won’t let me say it, I’ll just have to show him.

He moans softly against my mouth as I grip his thighs and lift him, and his legs wrap around my waist as we stumble toward the table. My lips never leave his as I set him on top of it and step between his spread knees.

Our hands are frantic as I tug at his jacket, then yank his shirt up and over his head while he does the same to mine. Clothes hit the floor in a messy pile, but once I’m naked, I’m too impatient to strip him of his pants. His cock is hard as I palm him through the fabric, and he bucks into my hand with a low moan.

I’m too fucking eager to wait. I drop to my knees, mouthing at his cock through the material. Aryn’s fingers fist in my hair as I suck and lick, his hips twitching forward as he curses under his breath.

“Cato—fuck—”

He sounds wrecked already, and it’s a heady feeling knowing I’m the one to make him that way. I suck harder through the cloth, feeling him throb against my tongue as a wet spot of slick forms on the fabric. He makes another helpless noise, and I damn near combust on the spot.

Aryn finally growls and takes control as he pulls me up by the hair to kiss me. We’re reduced to teeth and tongues and zero restraint. A fang nips at my lip, and I gasp as he shoves me toward the bed so hard I nearly lose my footing. He jumps off the table and stalks closer, hair a mess and eyes nearly glowing. He fists my hair again, but when I try to kiss him, he guides my ear to his mouth instead.

“Be good for me,” he whispers, “and sit down.”

I can’t tear my eyes away from him as I back up, blindly finding the edge of the bed and sinking onto the mattress. Aryn’s muscles roll as he moves with that feline grace, stepping closer before he kneels between my spread thighs. His pupils are blown wide as he looks up at me, sliding his hands up my legs like he’s about to eat me alive.

Gods, I hope he does.

Patient fingers trace the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, thumbs brushing the crease where my legs meet my hips. He leans in and drags his tongue along the same path, taking his time like I’m not about to combust. I shudder and try to thrust forward, leaving a slick trail of pre-cum across Aryn’s cheek as I chase more friction.

He pulls back with a soft hum of warning. “Stay still,” he murmurs against my inner thigh, nipping the skin lightly.

“Are you going to bite me?” I ask, chest heaving.

He curls his lips to expose his fangs, the razor-sharp tips dragging across my flesh. “Do you want that?” I nod frantically, fisting my hands in his hair and trying to drag him where I need him.

Aryn clicks his tongue and hits me with a scorchingly stern look. “Are you rushing me, Cato?” The way he says my name feels like a warning, but I’m too wound up to care.

“Please?” I beg, trying to guide his mouth to my cock.