He pulled away. “What did you—”
“Okay, look,” I blurted out. “Maybe we should have talked about this, but hell, I kind of figured what with you being my cornerstone, it was already a rest-of-our-lives kind of thing. I mean, I love you and you love me, right? And I—” I sighed. “In the desert. On the way to Mashallaha, I made a wish upon the stars. I wanted to be mortal. Like you. And my parents. And Justin and the King. I wanted to grow old with you until we both have hair sticking out of our ears and we’re scowling at all the young people who are ruining society with their grossly liberal ideas on being able to marry their half sisters or goats or something.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
I frowned. “I don’t know. I got distracted by you being old and still somehow being hotter than the sun, and that led to goats, and—”
“Sam. Focus.”
“Right. Where was I? Oh yeah. I didn’t want… this. I didn’t want Randall’s life, or even Morgan’s. I can’t… I just can’t, okay? So I asked the gods that when all was said and done to make me mortal.”
“And they agreed?”
I shook my head, and the cautiously hopeful expression on his face fell. “No. Because gods are assholes, and I’m pretty sure that they dislike me as much as I dislike them.”
“I don’t understand,” he said helplessly, trying to pull away.
I didn’t let him. I kissed his forehead, his cheeks, the tip of his nose. “I did it myself.”
“What?” he whispered.
“Turns out there was something to the whole most powerful wizard in an age aside from feeding my ego. I…. Ever since Vadoma came to Castle Lockes, I’ve been on this path, this set path where it felt like I didn’t have a choice. That everything was spinning out of control. I went into the woods after—after you were hurt, because I didn’t see there could be any other way. I had to do what was asked of me, because it was bigger than just you or I. What we have. I love you, Ryan. More than anything. But like you said, I have an oath. To the Crown. To the country. To the people here. Even to Lady Fucking Tina, and I can’t believe I said that out loud. I think I’ve been hexed and—”
“Sam.”
I smiled tremulously at him. “I took control of my own destiny. Set my own path. Made my magic my bitch. The Great White shoved everything he had into me—and gods, that sounds terrible—and I took it. Because I had to. He taught me more in a year than any wizard should learn in a lifetime. And because of him, because of the fucking Destiny of Dragons, I learned things no wizard has ever learned before.” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Like how to be mortal. It was… a light. All I had to do was snuff it out. And I did.”
He kissed me then. With all that he had. His cheeks were wet, and I was laughing, laughing, laughing against his mouth, his fingers digging into the sides of my head. He was frantic in his movements, muttering, “You’re so stupid, you’re so stupid, Sam, I love you, gods, I love you,” and it was the greatest feeling in the world. Being kissed by him. Being held by him. Being loved by him.
“Are you sure?” he asked, even though he didn’t stop kissing me.
“Yeah, dude,” I said, the words muffled against his mouth. “More sure than I’ve been about anything.”
“I can’t believe….” He shook his head as he pulled back. “You did that for me?”
“Yeah. And for me too. Because I want to live my life the way I want. Not the way the gods want. Or Randall, or even Morgan.”
“Randall’s gonna be pissed.”
“Eh. He took it pretty well.”
“You told him?”
“Yep. He was more… shocked than angry. Granted, he could still be pissed at me later. You know how he is. Gets revenge when you least expect it.”
“You are so fucking stupid.”
I grinned at him. “You still pissed off at me?”
He frowned. “Why? I thought that’s what this whole thing was about, so we wouldn’t be angry with each other.”
“Yeah. Okay. Cool. Cool, cool, cool. But if you were still angry with me, we could totally have angry-we’re-fighting sex where you manhandle me and maybe I fuck you up against the wall. Or you could fuck me, and I could be this awesome bossy bottom who still tells you what to do, because that’s how we roll.”
He gaped at me.
I waggled my eyebrows at him.
And then I was up and over his shoulder, arms hanging down his back as he carted me toward his room. I laughed at him and spanked his ass, because it was there and deserved to be spanked. He growled at me and I smacked him again, my palm burning. It sent a zing through me, the feel of it, and I knew that’d be something we’d have to explore later, especially when he gasped the second time, clutching me tighter against him.
He wasn’t gentle when he threw me down on the bed, but I wasn’t expecting him to be. Everything was too ramped up after finally coming to a head, and I didn’t care who fucked who, just as long as one of us was eventually inside the other.
I got an idea of how things were going to go almost immediately. He towered above me, knees pressed against the edge of the bed. I smiled lazily at him, watching and waiting. He slid his tunic up and over his head, and there were miles of skin for me to gaze upon for the first time since I’d returned. He was thinner, yes, the muscles in his chest and stomach lean and pulled tight. There were scars across his chest too, ones that hadn’t been there when I left. I’d only glimpsed them briefly the day he’d returned to Camp HaveHeart. There were stories on his skin that I hadn’t been there for, and later, when all was done and we were happy, I’d demand an explanation for each and every single one of them. Of course, the one that needed no explanation was the scar I zeroed in on. The one right below his rib cage.
So I ignored him for the moment, the way he stood in front of me, posing and flexing (because no matter what happened, Ryan Foxheart would always be a bit of a douchebag), and pushed myself up. I crawled to the edge of the bed and sat back on my heels. I reached out and traced the scar with a finger. It was thick and ragged but white, the color of something long since healed. It wasn’t very large, and I was struck by the fact that something so insignificant could have led to something so devastating.
I could feel him staring at me, but I still leaned forward and pressed my lips against the scar where a man named Ruv had thrust Ryan’s own sword into his chest, pinning him against a wall. The muscles in his stomach jumped, and he brought one of his big hands to the back of my head, not pushing me closer or pulling me away, but just… holding.
I kissed the scar again and again and again.
He allowed it, but a moment later, the hand on the back of my head moved until he cupped my jaw, forcing me to look up at him. His bottom lip was sucked in between his teeth, and his pupils were blown out. Through his trousers, I could feel his dick in a hard line against my chest.
We watched each other for a beat or two before he leaned down, kissing me fiercely, still gripping my jaw, his beard scraping wonderfully against my face. It was still such a novelty, and I was delighted by it and him. He licked into my mouth, hot and wet, and I was already scrabbling for the ties on his trousers, trying to get as much skin exposed as possible. I was about to break the knots when they came loose, and I shoved my hand inside, grabbed his cock, and squeezed. He groaned against my mouth. I shoved his face away as I pulled his trousers down to his knees, his cock hard, the head flushed. Before he could say a word, I leaned forward and swallowed him down.
He gasped as he stood ramrod straight, hips twitching like he wanted to fuck my face. Spit was already leaking down my chin as I got him as wet as possible. I gagged when I tried to take him farther, out of practice after having been gone for so long. I pulled off and took a breath.
“Sam—”
“Shut up. I’m going to gag on your dick all I want.”