by Leta Blake
The Outsider’s arm trembled, his nostrils flaring. “I’m the one in charge. Tell me.”
Considering he was being held captive in his own home, Rion felt a strange flicker of sympathy at the man’s desperation. He relented before he could think better of it. “Rion.”
“Rion.” The Outsider straightened up and returned the knife to his belt. “As I said before, I’m Jack.”
“Such a pleasure to meet you, thief.” He glanced down at Jack’s feet, now clad in Rion’s own slippers, although they were clearly too large. “I see you’re making yourself at home. I’d fetch you a warm cider, but I’m rather indisposed.”
“Your home is cold and drafty.” Jack frowned. “With all your riches, why do you not live in more comfort?”
Rion clenched his jaw. “My apologies if the accommodations aren’t up to your standards, thief.”
“I am not a thief. One cannot steal what is hoarded in greed.” His voice wavered, however, as though unconvinced of his argument.
“You steal my shoes. What else are you going to steal, Outsider?”
“I need the treasure. Just some of it. I promise I’ll only take what I need.”
Rion laughed. He had not been trained since birth to guard the family legacy to give up the secret so easily. “Well, if you promise, of course I’ll tell you immediately.”
Exhaling in obvious frustration, Jack turned on his heel. At the door he glanced back. “I’m going to find the treasure with or without your help. In the meantime, I hope you’re comfortable.” He slammed the door behind him, and the key scraped in the lock.
Going slack against his bonds, Rion stared at the ceiling, breathing deeply to remain calm.
Bested by an Outsider.
He was a disgrace to his family. They’d dedicated their lives to protecting the treasure and teaching him to do the same—yet here he was, at the mercy of a corrupt and depraved intruder.
An unwelcome flare of desire had Rion shifting uncomfortably. It was sheer madness. This man was a filthy creature, an immoral animal. Yet the sight of his firm body sent need straight to Rion’s core. His blue eyes were like the depths of the clearest lake, and Rion yearned to touch his red hair just once.
With a snort of disgust, he shook his head. Here he was daydreaming about this Outsider as if he was one of the valiant knights in the books lining the library walls. Pathetic. Weak.
Hours crawled by, and Rion hadn’t heard any sounds for some time. Jack was likely in the far reaches of the castle. Yet the fear that had been gnawing quietly at Rion grew sharper teeth. What if he’s gone? What if he gave up and escaped? Rion tugged with his arms and legs again, sudden panic sucking the air from his lungs. The Outsider wouldn’t leave him here to die. Would he?
Rion became very aware of how thirsty he was. Hungry too, but he licked his lips, swallowing the saliva to moisten his throat. It would be the thirst that killed him. How many days would it take? How many days would he lie here helpless, awaiting his doom?
Just as the fear nearly overwhelmed him, he heard footfalls. The door opened, and Jack stepped in, holding a lit torch, which he placed in the bracket on the wall. The room came to life, firelight flickering over the stone.
Before Jack could speak, Rion croaked, “Water.”
What appeared to be genuine remorse softened Jack’s expression and he hurried out, returning with a full goblet. He held it to Rion’s dry lips, and Rion gulped it down, the water tasting like the finest wine. He rested his head back on the mattress. “Thank you.” He cringed inwardly as the words escaped his lips before he could call them back.
Jack regarded him carefully. “You’re welcome.”
Rion observed Jack’s hunched shoulders and lined face. He seemed defeated already, any bravado vanished. “My arms hurt,” Rion said quietly.
Jack’s eyes trailed up to where Rion’s wrists were chafed from his attempts to work his way free. Rion glimpsed uncertainty—and remorse?—on Jack’s face.
“There have been worse pains in the world,” Jack said, his voice hollow.
“Yes. Yet it’s easy to say when you’re not the captive.”
A tiny smile lifted Jack’s lips. “I suppose that’s true.” His smile vanished. “I am sorry for what I’ve done. But the bridge is crossed.”
The strange sympathy flared once more, and Rion tried to tamp it down. The thump on his head must have left him off-kilter. Yet Jack was so unlike any of the other Outsiders Rion had encountered. Rion’s curiosity got the better of him. “Why do you need the money?”
Tentatively, Jack perched on the edge of the cot. “There is a debt I must repay.”
Despite himself, Rion asked, “For what?” Why should he care? Why was he even talking to this thief?
Grief creased Jack’s face, and he glanced away. “For a friend I couldn’t save. I gave my word that the debt would be paid.”
Rion struggled against the urge to comfort his captor. Madness! He scoffed instead. “What good is the word of a thief? Surely Outsiders are accustomed to broken vows.”
The expected anger didn’t materialize, and Jack only smiled ruefully. “Oh yes. We are accustomed indeed. I would simply flee, but I haven’t the means. Everywhere I go, I’ll be just as hated as I am in my village.”
An outcast among the Outsiders? Just like the real giant. Rion frowned. Yet Jack was no giant, only a normal man. It was all very puzzling. He opened his mouth to ask more questions, but stopped himself. This man had invaded Rion’s home to steal the legacy of Rion’s family, the most important thing in Rion’s life. The only important thing. He must do his duty. He thought of his father and steeled himself. “So will you starve me while you search for your loot?” Rion needed his strength.
Jack left again with only a shake of his head, returning with more water and a tray of cheese and bread. Sitting on the edge of the mattress once more, he picked up a piece of cheese and hesitated, looking between it and Rion. Cautiously he held the cheese to Rion’s mouth. Rion was mightily tempted to bite down on Jack’s fingers and gnaw one off if he could, but it would get him nowhere. He ate obediently, neither of them meeting the other’s eyes.
It was unfortunate that all of Rion’s struggles during the hours of Jack’s absence had yielded no give in his restraints, for Jack seemed lost in thought and was distracted enough that Rion could have flung him onto the bed and reversed their positions with ease, if only he’d been able to work himself free.
Rion’s cock twitched despite himself at the thought of Jack tied to the bed and at his mercy. As Jack offered another piece of cheese, Rion’s tongue flicked over the calloused pads of Jack’s fingers, seemingly of its own accord. Jack’s breath stuttered, but he didn’t pull his fingers away as Rion swallowed the cheese. When he lifted up another chunk, Rion swirled his tongue again as Jack’s fingertips brushed Rion’s lips.
What am I doing? Stop! But Rion didn’t, and their eyes met. The pulse in Jack’s throat fluttered, his breathing growing deeper. Rion’s own pulse raced as they continued on, Jack holding up the chunks of food, not pulling back as Rion teased with his tongue. Yes, this was how Rion would gain the upper hand once more. The Outsider’s eyes were dark with desire, and Rion just had to get Jack to trust him, to let his guard down.
Yet Rion’s own flesh stirred and his belly quivered. For so long he’d craved a man’s touch, and there was something about this Outsider that made his blood run hot. He wanted to suck Jack’s fingers harder, to suck on his pale neck, to suck on his… No. It’s too dangerous to play this game.
Forcing himself back in control, Rion rested his head back down. He would find another way. He hardened his features. “Best go back to your treasure hunt, as fruitless as it is. So why do your own people reject you? Is it because you’re useless and ugly, or is there more to it?”
The soft, longing expression vanished from Jack’s—no, the Outsider’s face, and he leaped to his feet, the tray clattering to the floor. “You are a devil.” He turned and
stalked to the door.
“I have to piss,” Rion said. It was the truth, but perhaps the Outsider’s anger would distract him.
Jack’s shoulders jerked. He glanced back over shoulder warily, then sighed. The chamber pot sat behind the door, and he brought it to the bed.
“Untie one of my hands and this’ll be much easier.” Although Jack had surprising strength, if Rion could get one hand free, he knew he could turn the tables.
“You truly must think me a fool.”
“No, just a scourge. All your people are.”
“My people?”
Rion ignored the question. “Are you going to let me piss or not?”
Jaw clenched, Jack tugged at the laces of Rion’s breeches and pulled Rion’s cock free, wrapping his hand around the base. Rion bit back a moan, tasting coppery blood on his tongue. All these years he’d wondered what it would be to have another man touch him there, and Jack’s palm was warm, his grip firm. He would only need to move his hand, to stroke…
Rion’s lungs burned, lust coiling in his belly as images of his fantasies ran riot in his mind. He clenched his body, closed his eyes and concentrated on relieving himself into the pot, which Jack angled with his other hand.
When he finished, Rion opened his eyes. Jack’s fair skin was flushed and his lips moist. Blood rushed to Rion’s cock, which began to fill, still in Jack’s grip. Rion gritted his teeth. “Unclean vermin,” he spat in a whisper. Yet all he felt was pleasure and wanting. His hips arched up of their own accord, and when he heard a soft moan he realized with horror that it was his own.
Jack stepped back as if he’d been burned, curling his hands into fists. Shaking his head, he grabbed the torch from the wall and locked the door behind him, plunging the room back into darkness. Rion lay helpless, exposed and trembling with need.
Jack slid to the floor with his back against the door. He ran a hand through his hair and moaned in frustration. He no longer knew what he was doing. He’d been emboldened by his success—in climbing the stalk, in besting the beast, in deeds at which other men younger and stronger than he had failed. But all of that had faded away in the fruitless hours of searching.
And now this. This disgusting physical reaction to the creature, a lust as sure and strong as any he’d ever felt. It was proof all the more of his wickedness. It was true that he was cursed and damned. Jack rubbed a hand over his face. If only he could find what he had come for and go, pay his debt and leave this land forever.
He set aside the niggling worry about how he would manage to release Rion—for of course he could not leave him to die—and still escape with the coins he required. He’d need to discover the treasure first, and so far that endeavor had not brought him any luck. He’d explored the castle’s nooks and crannies. Nothing. Not only no sign of the treasure, but not even an indication of wealth.
Certainly the castle was large enough, and some of the faded tapestries would have once cost quite a few coins. But it was all in disrepair, abandoned and covered with years’ worth of dust. Jack had begun to wonder if the treasure existed at all. Surely if this man Rion was in possession of such wealth he’d spend it on fine things?
Squaring his shoulders, Jack went back to work. For several more hours he scoured the castle, going back over rooms he’d already searched. Finally he opened the door to a room near the rear of the structure. He peered around. There was a large window and the sunlight streamed in. Jack supposed being in the sky naturally meant being closer to the sun.
This room and the library were the only two that appeared lived in. There were clothes hanging on a rail, none of them particularly fine and all of them soft with wear. When Jack brushed his hands over them, they let off the smell of Rion, and Jack felt a strange stab of guilt. He’s a beast! Murderous and cruel! Yet his breathy moan of need echoed in Jack’s ears. He seemed much more man than monster when Jack had held his cock.
A book sat on the side table. Jack thumbed through and found it was the kind of book he’d loved himself as a boy—tales of heroic knights from faraway kingdoms. He’d stayed up countless nights, sneaking Damara’s books and hiding the flicker of his candle with his hand as he escaped into other worlds. The pages of this book were softened and scuffed as though the story had been read many times.
He blinked into the glare of the setting sun and put the book away. He needed to make a plan to find the treasure. It had to exist. The legend went back generations. Of course the legend also spoke of a giant. Was it all a lie?
He was tired, though, and it was growing late in the day. He returned to the kitchen. Rion made no sound from behind the locked door, but Jack knew he must be hungry and thirsty again. Jack had no intention of harming the man. He was no giant, but what did Jack know of him? Jack couldn’t let him truly suffer in order to gain access to his own freedom.
And Rion might be helpful in the end, if Jack could persuade him. Perhaps he’d been going about this the wrong way. Rion’s reactions to Jack’s touches could not be denied. He’d seen and felt Rion growing hard in his very hand. The fact that he’d felt similarly aroused was disturbing but not a surprise. Jack had known of his own depravity for years.
Inside the room, Jack put a lit torch in the bracket and approached the bed. Rion kept his eyes glued to the ceiling. He lay there utterly vulnerable and uncovered, and shame flooded Jack. He could have at least tucked the man’s cock away and given him a modicum of dignity.
“I’m sorry.”
Rion’s eyes snapped to Jack’s face. “Go to the devil.”
Ignoring him, Jack laced up Rion’s breeches, keeping his touch perfunctory. He gave him more water and then sat on the side of the mattress again, a tense silence settling in. Finally Jack cleared his throat. There was no point in wasting time on pleasantries. “Why do you pretend to be a giant?”
“To stop scum like you from stealing my family’s treasure.”
“Was there ever a giant?”
“Of course.”
“Did you ever meet him?”
Rion shook his head. “He lived centuries ago.”
“Then how do you know he was real?”
Rion’s eyes flashed. “My parents told me.” He gazed at the ceiling again. “Cease with your questions. You’ll never find the treasure.”
Jack kept his tone steady. “Because it doesn’t exist?”
At this, Rion appeared surprised. “Of course it exists, you fool!”
“Have you seen it?”
“Many times.” Rion shook his head, smiling grimly. “So now you trick me into telling you where it is? Is that the plan? You’re wasting your time, Outsider.”
It was the plan, if it could be called that. Jack forged ahead. “Why do you call me that?”
“It’s what you are. You come from the land below.”
“How am I different from you?”
Rion gave him a withering look. “As if you have to ask. Your people are unclean. Evil. Filthy, thieving dogs.”
“We are not!” Jack thought of Adair and the people who’d taunted him his whole life. “Well, I’m not.”
“Oh, so you didn’t climb up the beanstalk in the dead of night to steal my family’s treasure?”
Jack flushed despite himself. “I told you, I wasn’t going to take it all.”
Rion snorted. “Of course not.”
“I was desperate. I…am desperate.” This truth seemed to just trip off his tongue.
“Because of your debt.”
“Yes.” He swallowed hard. “I have nothing to go back to. You think you hate the people below? Not as much as I do. And you could never hate me as much as they do.”
Rion frowned. “I don’t understand this. You’re one of them. Why would they hate you?”
“I’ve never been one of them. I never will be. I’m different. Can’t you see that?”
Rion regarded him for a long moment. He opened his mouth to reply and then snapped it shut with a sharp inhale. “Spare me, Outsider.”
; “All right, if the people below are unclean, where do you come from?”
“From here. I was born here. I shall die here. It is my birthright.”
Not the immortal Jack had assumed the giant to be, then. “But where did your family come from originally? Surely your parents weren’t both born here.”
“My mother was. My father came from across the sea. That is the only place we can go to find a mate.”
“Across the sea? Beyond the cliffs, you mean? But no one can pass there. The water is too rough, ever roiling and dashing anyone who dares attempt it.”
Rion seemed to want to say more, but then shrugged. “My father came from across the sea,” he repeated.
“When I was young I dreamed of building a boat and sailing off.”
Rion scoffed. “They’d never permit you to enter even if you survived the sea.”
“Are the borders guarded?” Jack honestly didn’t know anything about the lands outside his own.
“No. It’s a peaceful land.”
Jack frowned. “Then why would they stop me from entering?”
“They’d…they’d arrest you on sight. You’re a filthy Outsider! It’s obvious with a glance.”
Jack ran his palm over his head self-consciously. “Because of my hair?” Yet no one else in his village had the curse.
Rion’s brow furrowed. “Because you’re unclean! What does your hair have to do with it?”
It was strange that for once, Jack’s hair seemed to be accepted as normal. It was just the rest of him Rion hated. Although Jack was used to being the subject of scorn, he found it cut just as deep as ever. Why do you care what this man thinks? “Have you been there? To this land across the sea?”
“Many times.” Rion avoided his gaze.
“Liar. You’ve never been there.”
“You dare to call me a liar? You Outsider scum! I’ve been across the sea more times than I can count. I have many friends.”
