by L Shannon
Tarvyn set aside the rag and cupped his hands over the wound. He was careful to put no pressure, but instead called up his waning powers to pool them over the torn skin with one plan in mind, letting them soak into the man. His power wasn’t great by any Tascryn standards, at least not his healing powers. His seductive power was certainly enough to do nearly any job, but this…this might not even work.
He lifted his hands enough to peer through his parted fingers at the wound.
He almost whooped in joy when he saw the wound all but closed. The man’s hand rose and caught Tarvyn’s fingers.
“What happened?” The injured man’s whispered voice cracked over the words.
“Don’t move.” Even if the worst wound was on the mend, the man still had many more to be careful of. “Lay still, and I’ll go find you some water to drink.” He freed himself from the man’s clutching hand and rose to go in search of water.
A small bowl of water sat at the feet of the next man, but that was filled with bloody rinse water from the washing of wounds. He moved between the men until he reached the next one who was tending wounds. “Where can I get some water for the injured?”
“None are awake enough for drinkin’ yet.” The soldier never looked up from where he was stitching a cut. “But if you need a drink to get through, my flask is behind me.”
“My thanks.” Tarvyn said as he picked up the flask and hurried back to the man he’d healed. He helped the man drink a few swallows then eased him back into deep, healing sleep.
If he could help one man, maybe he could help the others, too. He moved to the side of the next injured soldier. This one was missing the lower part of his leg and had the rest tied off with a tourniquet to keep him from dying from blood loss. Tarvyn paused when he recognized the man as one he’d passed over on the battlefield. He had been with two others who were dying but this man had already tied off his own leg and would live if he were found in time. And it seemed he had been.
Tarvyn knelt at the man’s side and rinsed the cloth in the bowl before slowly washing the dirt away from the man’s destroyed leg. He imagined that the other men would have used their needles and thread to sew up the limb, but he didn’t have that skill. What he did have was his own healing energy. After a glance around to be sure no one was watching, he cupped his palms over the end of the man’s leg. In moments, the leg was no longer seeping blood, and the flesh was knit back together in an angry knot of skin.
No, it wasn’t pretty, but this man wouldn’t die today.
The man shifted about, coming awake like the first man had. Tarvyn retrieved the flask and waited for him to wake enough to drink.
“How are you, lad?” A hand fell on Tarvyn’s shoulder as the familiar deep voice slid over his skin.
A curl of arousal turned over in Tarvyn’s gut. “Bailey.” He looked up and met the Captain’s worried gaze. “I’m well, though I wish I could do more for these men.”
“Just as we all do, lad. Keep up the work. Skillet will have food for us all soon.” With a final pat to his shoulder, Bailey turned away. His steps were not quite steady. He must have been injured at some point. He favored his left leg now, even though Tarvyn hadn’t noticed the limp earlier. But worse than any injury, Bailey appeared weighted down with weariness.
Tarvyn was torn between doing as Bailey had asked and throwing aside his orders to see to Bailey himself. The man needed his spirit healed as much as these men needed their bodies mended. And to Tarvyn’s way of thinking, even after spending only a few minutes with him, Bailey was far more important.
The soldier he’d been helping came awake with a long moan. His hands flew out and fought the air until Tarvyn captured them in a gentle grip. “Easy, my friend. I’m here to help you.”
The man’s struggles settled, and his eyes fluttered in their attempt to open. “I ain’t dead?”
The irony of a human asking a Tascryn demon if he was dead, and for once being wrong, drew a chuckle out of Tarvyn. “No, sir. You are not dead. Here, have a drink of this.” He held up the flask to the man’s lips.
The man took a long swallow then pushed aside the flask. “Thank—” The word choked off as his eyes finally opened and focused on Tarvyn’s face. The color in the already pale face faded even more. “I know you….”
How could the man know him? Surely the soldier hadn’t been alert enough on the battlefield to remember him passing by. “I don’t think so, sir.” When the man shuddered, Tarvyn shifted to glance around for something to keep the man from chilling. “Let me find you a blanket.”
Before he could stand, the man’s hand caught his wrist in a surprisingly tight grip. “I saw you kill them. I saw you!” His voice grew into a screeching wail, drawing the attention of the rest of the men.
Tarvyn froze, unsure of how he should deal with the man. The worst he’d ever had to deal with was being caught in a virgin’s bed. Never before had he been accused of killing.
Should he run? Should he attempt to return home even with his depleted energies?
Then the choice was taken away. The other soldiers gathered around him. Two grabbed his arms and dragged him away from the man who continued to fling accusations. The others believed him guilty and cared not what crazy ranting the man offered as evidence.
“We have to teach them French dogs what we do to betraying spies like this whelp.” Thompson shook him hard, as if to rattle the confession out of him. “Are you a scout? When will they attack? Speak up!”
“What’s going on here?” The loud question silenced most of the voices.
“Sir, we caught us a spy. This man here saw him,” Thompson said.
Bailey looked around at the gathered men. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and commanding. “So you saw fit to let the other injured men die while you all stood around to gawk?” He pushed aside the man holding Tarvyn’s right arm, taking his place. Bailey’s angry glare was all it took for the second man to release him as well. The rest of you get back to your duties. I will see to this problem myself.”
Thompson caught Bailey’s arm. “We’re unprotected here, Captain. If he’s signaled the fort, we could be beat easy as the wind blows.”
“The lad is no spy, and the enemy is still chasing the rest of the fleet or turning their noses back to the siege of La Rochelle. If you are still concerned, take a mount and scout the area.”
Thompson glared at Tarvyn before giving Bailey a brief nod and heading for the picketed horses.
Bailey’s grip tightened at Tarvyn’s elbow, evidence that even he was worried by this new situation. “Do you trust me, lad?” Bailey asked quietly as he pulled him away from the others.
Chapter Three
Tarvyn barely knew the man. He didn’t trust him, did he? There was something between them, but was it enough to offer his trust, or would it even matter?
“Well, you had better trust me because, if you don’t, my men will soon be using you for target practice.” Bailey turned him with a twist and pulled both arms back.
In the space of a breath, Tarvyn was bound and held firmly in Bailey’s grasp. “Wait!”
“Too late for that, young Tarvyn. You will have to be my prisoner until we can prove you’re not spying for the enemy.”
He couldn’t hold back his short, humorless laugh. “I’m no spy. Hell, I’m not even—”
“Quiet. We’ll sort it all out in time.” Bailey led him away from the other men with a firm grip. “The rest of you, back to work. I’ll deal with Tarvyn.”
Tarvyn didn’t bother to struggle as Bailey guided him toward a tent at the edge of the encampment. He was reasonably sure that the Captain wouldn’t hurt him. If he tried, even a tired Synn demon should have the strength to escape a human.
“In here, lad.” Bailey pushed him into the tent and toward the single bedroll laid out on one side of the small area.
“Bailey?” His Synn mind turned over the possibilities available inside a small, stark tent that held nothing but a bedroll and two men.<
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“Hush. It will take time for the men to settle and lose interest in you.”
“What do you plan to do with me?” He looked up at the Captain and tried to judge the man’s intent. Having Bailey tie him had sent a surprising thrill through him. The sturdy rope wouldn’t hold him if he didn’t wish it, but the image of being at this man’s mercy was enough to have him picture a different scenario where being tied might lead to being pleasured. That was one of his favorite games.
“Nothing for now. I just want you out of sight from the men. There’s no reason for you to be harmed by their frustration and anger.”
“But…” Tarvyn hesitated. He didn’t really want to be with the others anyhow. What he wanted was to recharge his powers, and the idea of doing so with Bailey held much appeal. It should have been the same with any of the humans, but there was something special about Bailey.
Bailey’s gaze narrowed slightly. “What is it, Tarvyn?”
There was no way he could explain the whole truth, but the Captain’s actions may have offered him the perfect method of getting home. “Thank you.”
“For tying you up and manhandling you? Crazy lad.” His expression gentled as his frown faded and one corner of his mouth tipped with what might have been the edge of a smile.
“Yes. For that, and keeping me from being hurt.” At Bailey’s doubtful look, Tarvyn continued. “I don’t know how to act around them. But it’s different with you.” He reached out with his mind and touched Bailey’s thoughts. He needed to have sex to regain his powers and get home, but he wouldn’t force himself on a man who wouldn’t naturally look at him that way. So far, the Captain had been kind but given no indication of whether he would even consider sex with another man.
“Damn, you are young.” Bailey’s smile widened as he shook his head.
He couldn’t help the grin that slowly claimed him as Bailey’s mind unfurled under his persuasion, offering him the clear picture of how the Captain saw him, and how the man felt guilty for wanting more.
“I’m not that young—” He was almost two thousand years old, which was young for Synn demons, but he could hardly tell Bailey that. “I’m old enough to understand kindness.” And lust. But still, he felt a small pang of guilt as he released his Synn pheromones to wreck havoc on Bailey’s senses. He carefully bit back the power he possessed that could prove dangerous to the Captain’s soul.
Bailey’s breathe caught, and then changed to long draws of air, as if to savor what scents he could breath in. “How old are you, lad?”
Byx’m! Now he’d have to lie to him, and somehow it felt wrong to lie to Bailey about anything. “I’m…” He hesitated. How old should he say? It’d have to be old enough for Bailey to respect, but young enough for him to believe. “I’m almost twenty.” Bailey harrumphed in disbelief, so Tarvyn pushed on. “How old are you, Bailey?”
Bailey’s lips quirked up higher. “Old enough to know you aren’t twenty.”
The teasing note between them was a balm amid all the stress. He wanted to share it but first would have to convince the Captain to trust him. “How old? Tell me, and then I’ll prove my age.”
“I just turned thirty-two. Now, give your proof, and if I don’t believe you, I’ll turn you over my knee for a spanking.”
Well that was an interesting option. For a moment, Tarvyn imagined being laid over Bailey’s lap and how it would feel to be pressed against him so close. But that image was quickly followed by the thought of the man’s huge hand landing against his backside…
“Well?” Bailey insisted.
He pushed a little deeper into the Captain’s memories and sought out what would work for his needs. “Your superior officer, Lord Buckingham. He has the king’s ear. I saw him at the meeting over at Whitehall. He wore a long blue cape. Were you there that day?”
“I was. That was nigh on fifteen years ago.”
“Is my age proven?” He held his breath in suspense. Surely his age was proven.
“Aye. But now your loyalty may well be in question. How did you come to be in London that day, and why are you here on Re now?”
“I was not with the enemy. I wasn’t with either side.” He tried to remember some detail that might help, but human battles had so little meaning to him that he couldn’t find any way to add strength to his position.
Bailey released a long sigh. “Just caught in the fighting, huh?”
“I came on after the battle was mostly over. I tried to help the men, but could do so little…” He shrugged, hoping that Bailey would accept his story. “Will I be wearing these ropes for all my time here?” Because if that were the case, then he might well work on finding another way home. Though, the idea of leaving Bailey in search of another lover left him with a deep ache. Really, the rope wasn’t so bad. It just wasn’t how he’d preferred to use it.
“Nay, I’ll take them off you. But you mustn’t leave the tent for now. Not until the men forget their fears.” Bailey shifted to kneel beside him, reaching around his body to untie the ropes. The close confines of the tent left little room for maneuvering and to Tarvyn, Bailey’s arms felt more like an embrace than the innocent motion intended. Bailey’s strong, unique scent, and the feeling of power contained in those corded muscles, brought Tarvyn’s body awake, his cock rising under the light tunic.
As the ropes fell away and Bailey began to draw back, Tarvyn realized his arousal would be obvious.
“What…” Bailey met Tarvyn’s gaze with a frown.
“I’m...” Tarvyn started to apologize, but stopped. Since when did a Synn demon feel shame of arousal? He wasn’t about to start now. He met the gaze squarely and waited to see how the Captain would respond.
“Tarvyn, you’re young.”
It wasn’t declaration of intent, but it also wasn’t a rejection. “Not that young.” Perhaps if he could get Bailey to share the bedroll for a few hours his own stress could be eased. Maybe then he’d be strong enough to return home.
“It’s wrong.” But there was no conviction in Bailey’s tone.
He let his grin show as he released more pheromones. “Affection is wrong? Pleasure is wrong?” He wasn’t playing fair. So what? He couldn’t get back to hell without a sexual release, and Bailey was here. Why suffer for who knew how long when means to so much pleasure was easily at hand. Sharing some pleasure with Bailey would make everything work out well.
Bailey met his gaze with little hesitation. “Such isn’t to be between men.”
“I…” Bailey really was quite a man. Simply being here and watching him struggle to resist was enough to hold Tarvyn’s body hard. “I know what I want. Bailey, but what do you want?”
Bailey swallowed hard, and his eyes lit up with a glow.
“Have you dreamed of being with a man? Have you walked past a woman offering because of a lad drawing your gaze away? Who do you think of when you stroke your own staff?”
“Tarvyn…”
His name on the man’s lips sent a shiver of pleasure through him, which settled in a low knot of need. “Will the other men bother you here?”
Silence ruled for several heartbeats. “No. They will hold to their duties.”
“Bailey. I want to offer you pleasure. Will you let me?” Tarvyn rose up on his knees and reached for Bailey. “I want to kiss you.” And he pressed his lips against Bailey’s. The tingle of awareness raced from the light contact downward. This was more than arousal, but what did it mean? “I want to touch you.” His fingers stroked over the hard planes of Bailey’s face as he pressed another kiss to his lips, receiving the same rush of sensation. “I want to feel your body and how it reacts to mine.”
Bailey caught his wrists. “No.”
“No?” Tarvyn stared in wonder at the flames that burned in the depths of Bailey’s gaze. The sight of Bailey’s obvious desire sent his pulse pounding. The moment was exquisite. His body ached to be claimed, and his heart unfurled in welcome, recognizing what his mind had been slow to grasp. Bailey was…his
soul mate! M’anom, I have waited so long. Not that love was necessary for a Synn demon to find pleasure, but this changed everything. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want to fuck you.”
The words tore something free in Tarvyn. A purr slipped out as he licked his lips at the thought of Bailey’s hard body riding his own. This was right in every sense of the word. His body was made for pleasing this man above all others.
“You like that, do you?” Bailey’s voice was a low rumble.
“Oh, yes.” Even if he couldn’t reach Bailey with is hands, Tarvyn leaned forward and pressed another kiss to Bailey’s lips. This time he tickled the crease with his tongue and moaned when Bailey opened to him. When he drew back, the world had changed. Bailey’s gaze held acceptance and a strange form of contentment. “I want you however you will take me.”
“And if I’m not gentle?”
“Then I will welcome your dominance,” Tarvyn answered without hesitation. Bailey wasn’t a brutal man. Even while he threatened to harm, Bailey held him carefully, almost tenderly.
Bailey’s tongue darted out to touch where he’d just been kissed. “And if I want your mouth?”
Damn, the man was a tease. He would gladly offer him anything to shut up this testing and get on to the tasting. “Then you will have it.”
“And if I want it all?”
Chapter Four
“It is yours.” Tarvyn wanted to laugh at Bailey’s testing. But then, how would the man understand that there were no limits for how a Synn demon could find pleasure with a lover.
Bailey released his wrists and pushed forward, using his presence and bulk to force Tarvyn back against the bedroll. One hand slowly moved to the tunic front and parted the fine fabric, baring his chest. His hand moved over the sensitive flesh with a light exploration that left Tarvyn panting and desperate for more.
Only when he had slipped him free of the top did Bailey move in and claim his lips once more. This time Bailey delivered the kiss instead of receiving it. His mouth parted and slanted over Tarvyn’s, and his tongue stroked forward, claiming the new territory and demanding a matching response.
