Bee Among the Clover (168 page)

His darkling, and gods, he could hardly bring himself to stomach calling him that anymore, was out there. Whatever Aron wanted, it mattered not. Once again, Wulfgar was giving Roman to him for a night. But Aron knew this night was no different from the last. Roman was never his.

Bitterness welled in him, and his eyes narrowed sharply. He leaned low over the neck of the horse, muscles tensed as the priest said some words he didn’t catch nor care to pay attention to. He thought Wulfgar might have spoken as well, but then the horn was blowing, and Aron was focused on one thing and one thing only. Capturing a prize that was never his.

R
OMAN heard the sound of the horn again and knew that the hunt was on. There was a feeling in the air that he’d never experienced before, a wildness that was intoxicating. Mayhap the Wild Hunt really was out this eve. Tonight was a time for magic when the lines between reality and otherworldliness blurred. Who could say what could happen on a night like this?

He forced himself to slow. If Aron heard him crashing around, then it would be no problem for his hunter to find and catch up with him, mounted as he was. At first he heard nothing but his harsh pants for air and the hard tattooing of his heart in his chest. He melted into the shadows of the trees, feeling his braids brush his shoulders. Somewhere in the distance of the still forest, Roman could hear the sound of a horse. On silent feet he slipped away, making no noise.

The air was beginning to grow cool against his bare skin. All of his senses were heightened. Was it the same for the hunter as well as the prey? Was Aron going about this with no feeling in his heart whatsoever? Was it wrong of him to pray for the other man’s forgiveness? To see him smile at him once more? Sweet Jesu, when had it started mattering to him so much?

A
RON listened with keen ears, everything Roman had taught him coming into play. His head turned to the side at the faint sound of a twig snapping, and he caught a glimpse of white far off through the trees. Turning the horse in that direction, he charged into the thick brush and closely meshed trees, only to find nothing. There was a sense of heaviness to the air around him, a presence he couldn’t explain, as he searched the darkening forest. His eyes narrowed as a shaft of moonlight filtered through the leaves, and he could have sworn he saw a woman, but in an instant the shape was gone, and he was left with only the impression of feminine power and blazing red hair. Perhaps the Goddess was watching their game of cat and mouse.

His frustration rose as he swung the horse around and paused, listening carefully. He heard nothing, but some sense turned him to his left, eyes piercing the shadowed darkness for some sign of movement, of his prey.

He felt the primal rush of the chase pumping through his veins despite himself. He realized that he would never be able to catch his darkling mounted; the horse made too much noise, and his prey was too nimble and quick. His mind spun quickly, and a wicked grin curved his lips.

When next he caught a flash of movement, to his right this time, he kicked back on the horse’s flanks in that direction, but then leapt from its back, landing lightly on his feet and giving the beast’s rump a slap. He darted in the opposite direction, counting on Roman avoiding the sound of the horse and running right into Aron’s trap.

His steps were silent, the fur dropped to the ground, and sweat shone across his body as he darted through the trees, eyes sharp and keen, searching out his prey.

R
OMAN darted away from the crashing in the trees, moving away at an angle. Mayhap he was foolish for wanting to capture a glimpse of Aron. If he kept taking risks like that, his hunter would be upon him soon. Slowing, he turned and started circling back, eager to continue this game of cat and mouse that had him feeling more alive than he had in a long time.

He had no sense of how long he’d been under these trees or when the sound of the horn had come, releasing Aron after him. He only knew his anticipation was growing. It was sharp enough to taste. Mayhap Aron could smell it on him. His ears strained in the darkness, moving in the direction the horse had gone, when he heard a sound behind him toward his left.

Roman froze, slipping around the trunk of a large oak, pressing his back against the rough bark. He could sense him nearby in the darkness. Oh, clever, clever Aron! Pride swelled in him at the other man’s quick wits. He peered around the trunk just as Aron stepped onto the path. He took Roman’s breath away. Every line of his body spoke of power and barely leashed passion. Tonight he wasn’t a thrall, he was the Forest Lord, and Roman belonged to him. For a moment, Roman couldn’t breathe from the force of the realization that he wanted to belong to Aron. For tonight, he didn’t want there to be any ghosts between them.

Aron froze, some instinct alerting him, and his head jerked up as his darkling stepped out from the trees into his path a few yards away. At first they stared at each other, unmoving. Then Roman’s lips quirked in a mysterious smile, and he turned and dashed into the trees again, leaving behind a ghostly chuckle that taunted and challenged.

Aron’s eyes blazed in triumph, and he took off after him, following the sounds of his darkling’s footfalls, the scent that lingered in the air.
The thrill of the chase pounded in his veins, and Aron darted after Roman in swift pursuit, but he was not closing the distance yet. He wound in and out of the trees, following the sound of Roman’s steps, the glimpses of the sheer white cloth he wore, the sound of his breath and soft taunting laughter.
Then, without warning, Aron gave a burst of speed, swooping in on his darkling and leaping upon him. He twisted as they fell so he took the brunt of the fall, arm manacled around Roman and staring up into his bright, dark eyes.
Neither moved, both barely breathing, the tension thick in the air around them. Then the primal kicked in, and Aron’s grin was wicked as he rose in a fluid motion and easily tossed Roman over his shoulder despite the slave’s futile struggles.
Aron gave a whistle; his mount returned to his side, and he tangled one fist in the horse’s mane and swung them both up onto its back. Aron settled Roman in front of him and kept his arm tight around the man’s slim, wiggling body.
“You are caught, darkling.” Aron smirked as he kicked back, and the horse crashed through the forest in the direction of the clearing and the tent he knew was there, forgetting that the prize he’d caught wasn’t his at all.
Roman smiled to himself, ceasing the struggles that he’d only kept up because he enjoyed the sensation of Aron holding him so close. Aron had subdued him without being rough or causing him pain, and right now, in his arms, he felt safe. Roman melted against him, laying his head back on Aron’s shoulder as they cleared the trees and the horse trotted toward the tent that stood gleaming and solitary in the moonlight that shone from almost directly above them.
Roman felt his earlier worries drain away. Aron still wanted him. He hadn’t missed that flash of desire in the younger man’s eyes when he’d caught him and they’d looked at each other in the near dark. At this time Roman really saw him and knew the emotion in Aron wasn’t feigned. He might not be able to make up for the pain he’d caused Aron, whether it had been unwitting or not, but tonight he could be with him without any reservation in his heart. Maybe that would be a small step toward repairing the damage between them.
Roman wished he could give Aron more. This seemed like such a small thing. But he didn’t know what else he had to give that Aron would want from him. Mayhap Jesu and Aron’s gods would smile upon them tonight and this would be enough.
Aron held Roman close against him as they approached the tent, slowing the horse and sliding down before reaching up to lift Roman from its back. The instant they cleared the entrance to the tent, the mist and magic of the Hunt was over. He was no longer a hunter, and Roman was no longer his prey.
Aron held his breath as he set Roman on his feet, eyes drinking him in. By the gods, he was stunning, darkly ethereal in the sheer, sparkling fabric with flowers twined in his hair like some fae creature. Aron forced himself to take a step back, trying to remind himself that Roman despised him, even if he didn’t look like he did just then.
He glanced around the tent at the large bed fashioned of a pile of furs, bowls of scented oil alight beside it to provide light and add a magical fragrance to the air, flowers and herbs scattered on the floor.
He didn’t know what to say, or do, for that matter. He was tempted by the bottle of wine, but he knew it would have herbs in it to increase desire and potency, and that was the last thing he needed just then. Finally, he managed to look back at Roman, breath catching again at his delicate beauty.
“We need not do this, darkling. None would know.” Despite how his body argued with him and demanded he take him, Aron refused to do so.
Roman stared at Aron, stunned. He hadn’t missed the way Aron had pulled back away from him, and all at once, he doubted everything he’d seen and felt between them under the trees. Stricken, he pressed his palms against his abdomen, trying to keep the pain from spilling out of him. “You don’t want me,” he whispered, unable to tear his eyes away from Aron’s face.
Aron’s brows furrowed, and Roman wondered at the sudden confusion in his eyes. “You know I do, darkling. But I’m not going to coerce you again. The times we were together weren’t because you wanted me but because you had to.”
Aron shook his head as Roman continued to stare at him. “You don’t have to lie with me tonight, darkling. In the morning we’ll tell Wulfgar that things are fine between us and he’ll be satisfied.”
Comprehension dawned, and Roman looked at him in wonder. Aron was offering him a choice. The power of that was almost enough to send him to his knees. For the last four years, no one had given him that. Trembling, he watched Aron start to turn away and knew that if he didn’t stop him, he’d regret it for the rest of his existence.
“Wait,” Roman whispered, grabbing Aron’s wrist. He lifted it to his lips, kissing the faint scar Aron had received because of him, letting the release of his tears spill over to anoint it. He stepped closer to Aron, releasing his wrist, his hands coming up to frame Aron’s face, his thumbs brushing over his cheekbones.
“Please….” Roman pressed his forehead to Aron’s, their breaths mingling on their lips. “Tonight, let it just be about us. No one else exists.” His heart seemed to pause as he waited for a sign from Aron. “I want to be yours tonight.”
Roman held his breath, trembling, praying to every god, even those he didn’t believe in, that Aron would not reject him. He didn’t think he could bear it. He tried to show him it was true, Jesu, he so very much did want to be Aron’s, for this one night at least, even as the thought terrified him, because he didn’t know how he would be satisfied with only one night.
Aron hesitated, and just when Roman’s heart was about to break from the rejection he was sure was coming, the other man reached one hand up to cup the side of Roman’s cheek, sliding back and into his flower-braided hair. For tonight, Roman thought, it would have to be enough. Some small part of him screamed at him to stop, to let him go because it would not be enough, but Roman wanted him, genuinely and of his own free will. He did not have the willpower to resist the lure of once more being able to make a choice of his own.
He whimpered as Aron’s lips closed over his, soft and gentle, exploring but not devouring. This was what had caused his downfall in the cave that day, the tenderness he felt from Aron, the way he touched him like he cherished him. Jesu, Roman craved that, being cherished and cared for. Even if it was a myth and was only for one night, he needed it.
His arms twined around Aron’s neck, and he melted into the kiss, letting out a soft, sobbing sound at the taste of him. He hadn’t forgotten what Aron tasted like, spicy, exotic, and wild, but it’d been so long since he’d truly tasted him that he felt like a man denied air for a lifetime.
Aron sighed against Roman’s lips, relishing the way the slave yielded so sweetly to him. But even as Roman surrendered, Aron sensed the demand in him as well, in the way that his darkling clung to him as if Roman was afraid he’d melt away, the way he pressed his body closer in offering.
Aron wrapped his arms around Roman’s waist, his hands upon the slave’s bare back, cradling him close and supporting him. He’d made the mistake of giving in to his lust last time, and that was when the strain had started between them. Tonight he was going to do what he had wanted to do then: make love to Roman tender and slow. They might only have this one night, but he was going to be sure that his darkling knew his own worth by the time it was done.
The moan of loss Roman let out when Aron broke the kiss was endearing. Aron smiled, brushing his lips along the slave’s jaw, then down to the hollow just behind his ear. “I have you, my darkling,” Aron whispered against his ear. “I won’t leave you.”
Roman trembled but nodded, and tenderness swamped Aron when he arched his neck to give Aron better access to his throat. The upsweep of emotion that went through him was almost painful in its intensity. But it was such a good pain compared to everything else he’d gone through in the last few months that he welcomed it, reveled in it.
Aron lifted his head, looking down at him, the faint light shimmering on his skin, making him fairly glow. Slowly his hands came up to Roman’s throat, reaching under his hair and finding the clasp of the collar. Tonight Roman was his, and he did not want any reminders of how very fleeting that was.
Roman’s breath caught, eyes wide in his face, and Aron held his breath as the clasp came undone and the collar fell away. He opened his eyes to meet Aron’s gaze before he nodded.
Aron gave a soft exhale of relief at Roman’s acquiescence, leaning in to nibble at his lips, hands skimming down the sleek line of his back to his hips. His skin was like warm satin, and Aron sighed in pleasure as he moved his mouth down the slender column of the slave’s throat, over his collarbone, continuing the slow path downwards. Aron’s fingers gathered the thin fabric around Roman’s hips as he sank to his knees in front of him.
For a moment he did nothing, simply knelt there with his lips pressed to Roman’s flat, hard stomach, and then he lifted his eyes to look up at Roman as he began to unwind the fabric.
Roman found himself unable to look away. He didn’t want to escape to that place in his head. He didn’t want to miss one moment of this magical night with his lover. He chose this. He chose him, and he wasn’t going to hide from it. A cool brush of air rippled against his skin as the last panel of sheer fabric slithered away from his hips. Aron removed the loincloth, and Roman stood nude before him with no trace of selfconsciousness or shame.
With trembling fingers, Roman undid the clasp of Aron’s collar and tossed it to the side, his fingers soothing away the phantom imprint of it on his skin. The collar had never suited Aron anyway. He was freer in spirit than any person Roman had ever known.
Roman brushed his fingertips over Aron’s lips before threading his fingers through his wild, dark gold hair and sinking to his knees so they faced each other. “You make me feel….” He broke off, not sure how to express it. Maybe it was enough that Aron did make him feel at all. Roman slid his hands down Aron’s sides, his eyes following their path as he stripped Aron’s own flimsy clothes from him.
Roman did not think he had ever seen anything more beautiful than Aron. He was so perfectly made, his muscles hard and defined, his skin gleaming golden in the light of the oil lamps. He couldn’t stop staring at him, caught in his eyes, bluer than the sky on a winter’s day. Roman smiled and touched his cheek.
“You make me feel, too, darkling. So much.” Roman’s smile grew at his lover’s passionate response, his eyes closing as Aron’s fingers came up to skim over his face and throat. His breath caught with a sudden, almost painful rush of emotion. What he wouldn’t give to really be Aron’s, not just for the night, but for always. He pushed the wish aside, determined to enjoy this precious time to the fullest.
Roman’s eyes opened, and they never left Aron’s face as his lover rose. Roman slid his arms around Aron’s neck as he was lifted off his own feet and carried to the bed. His heart pounded, but in anticipation, not fear, as he was laid back on the decadent soft furs.
Roman stared up at him with wide eyes, arms reaching for him and making a grateful sound when Aron moved into his embrace. He thought he could spend an eternity holding Aron, he felt so
right
there close against him.
For an eon they just lay there, drinking in each other’s presence. Roman hadn’t realized how much he’d missed Aron’s arms around him as he’d slept through the night. Despite how much Aron’s intimacy had scared him at first, it had become a foundation he could cling to. He hoped it wouldn’t end with tonight. Tomorrow evening when they returned to their pallet he wanted to feel Aron’s strong arms going around him and holding him close.
Aron’s lips pressed against the hollow of his throat, and Roman didn’t try to hold back the soft sound of pleasure, arching his throat toward his mouth. Despite all of the times he’d experienced Aron’s touch, this was different. Every sensation was magnified, setting off wild flutters in his stomach and ripples of emotion. It was incredible.
He breathed in deeply, reveling in the combination of his scent mixed with Aron’s and the oil burning beside them. He loosened his grip and began letting his hands explore, tracing the contours of Aron’s shoulders, following the curve of his spine, his touch worshipful. Aron’s calloused fingertips stroked his own skin, and Roman couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him with such infinite gentleness.
Aron sucked in a shaky breath at the touch of Roman’s hands on him, skimming so soft, exploring, like the other man was mapping him out, memorizing him. It was a beautiful feeling.
His own fingers trailed down Roman’s side, tracing his ribcage, mouth moving to nip along his collarbone and tongue dipping into the soft hollow below his jaw. Roman’s skin was so sweet. He smelled like flowers and tasted like honey, and Aron’s tongue slipped out to get more of that taste, dragging along his skin, down over his chest, feeling the soft rumblings of his moans against his lips.
Aron wanted to speak, wanted to tell Roman everything he made him feel, but he didn’t want to break the magic of the night, the spell that had been wound around them in this time between the worlds. It was as if the tent had become their world: secluded from the outside and protected from those who would tear them apart. For this night, they were each others’ and nothing else mattered.
His lover’s cock was hard and aching, but he ignored it. This was much less about physical gratification and more about connecting with his darkling, showing him how perfect he was, making him feel every ounce of his own worth. That meant far more than any orgasm ever could.
Roman turned his face into Aron’s neck, and Aron closed his eyes as the slave’s hands continued to explore him, every part of his being concentrating on the man beside him, the slow exploration of bodies wondrous. Aron had never imagined something so simple could be so arousing. He couldn’t stop touching him. He wanted to latch onto this feeling and hold it tight lest it slip through his fingers.
“Aron….” Roman sighed his name, and Aron opened his eyes, meeting his dark gaze as he lifted his head. Aron’s heart stuttered as Roman lifted his slender hands and framed his face, bringing Aron’s mouth down to his, moaning. Aron let Roman take the lead, groaning when his tongue flickered in to explore.