Chapter 19

Chapter

Nineteen

CALLISTO

The sound of footsteps hits me, but there's only one set.

"Next time you're going to run away, don't leave a trail for me to follow," Silas says.

I slowly look up at him. "I was afraid I fucked up and left you to die, but you look significantly better than I feel."

"I look significantly better than you look as well. Must be from all the training I did with my body by eating my own food."

That makes me smile a little bit.

"Why are you running from me?" he asks as he gives me a look… one that kind of tells me I'm being ridiculous.

"I'm not running from you… I'm protecting you."

"I don't need to be protected. Now answer. Why are you running from me, Prince ?"

I stare at him for a long moment before rubbing my head. "Why are you saying it like that?"

"Like what?"

"You know what."

"Fine, allow me to rephrase this. Why are they after you ?"

"I… assume… because of the whole prince thing."

"What whole prince thing?" Silas asks.

I'm really fucking cold and achy and tired, but right now, I feel like my body is working overtime. My heart is pounding out of my chest. I don't know what's right or what's wrong. I feel like any path I go down will be the wrong way and I'll regret it. I'll regret it so much.

"You're determined to run away from me, but you're also afraid of telling me the truth when it comes to absolutely anything," Silas says. "Say something that'll piss me off. Get me to leave you here."

"I don't want to," I admit.

"Why not? You just ran off without me, so I have to assume you don't want me here."

"Because I don't want you to get hurt. That doesn't mean I want you to hate me."

Silas kneels down before me and cups my chin. "Fine. You want me to do it? You want me to say something? I know you're not the prince. I had questioned whether you were a prince, probably King Samuel's youngest brother's son, but I don't think you're even of royal blood."

That definitely wasn't what I was expecting him to say. "How do you know?"

"Because I killed the real prince."

I stare at him in shock as his words settle in. It's not that I didn't know the prince was dead; I'd stumbled upon his body myself. It was then that Markson and I came up with the grand idea that I would pose as the prince, a person the king hadn't seen since he was young. My eye and hair color were the same. And the real prince's fae magic was never common knowledge, leading many to believe he didn't even possess any. Perking up flowers isn't exactly the rarest of magic… as long as they never found out about my ability to poison people, I should have been fine.

I didn't even have to lie; I simply hid the prince's body, then took one of the royal horses and emblem before sending ahead a message that "my" guards had been slaughtered and where to find their bodies.

When I arrived, I was welcomed with open arms by people who never once questioned my identity. It wasn't like the king's brother was going to stop by uninvited and realize his son had been replaced; the two barely tolerated each other.

But now my savior is claiming that he was the one who took the prince's life? That the sea of bodies I'd stumbled onto was caused by him?

"You killed them all?" I ask.

"No. I killed the prince. I don't know who killed the rest," Silas says. "My guess is you stumbled upon the bodies and thought it was a good opportunity to rise up in the world."

"Yes," I whisper.

"But you're not royal blood at all."

"How do you know?"

"Because when I walked into the ballroom to see if I could save you, the king knew the true prince was dead as he waved at your blood on the floor. It makes me question whether he needed your blood to complete the spell he was performing, and when your blood didn't work, he knew you weren't the real prince. But then why are they so fixated on you? What's it matter whether you live or die? What do you have or know that you need to die or be captured for?"

"I… don't know," I admit. "It wasn't like in the week I was there the court spilled some dark secrets to me. I learned things, of course… but nothing that everyone else in the court doesn't already know and nothing that would make them lose a war if one of their secrets were to break out. You've known since then? You've known since the day those slavers tried abducting me?"

"I have."

"And you still took care of me… why?" I ask, curious. I could kind of get someone risking their life for a prince… but why me? Why someone who was nothing to him?

Silas watches me for a moment, his stare making me hopeful there's a reason why he cares so much, before he shrugs. "Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was guilt. Who knows. Now come on. Let's get out of here, you feel and look like death."

He picks me up and I can't help but want to sink into his arms as he puts me in the saddle before sliding behind it. Then he pushes Dandelion into a run.

I want to ask him what this means.

I want to ask him why a simple tavern keeper would have killed the prince.

But I'm afraid to know because I want to like him… and I don't want to be alone. Silas pulls his coat around me, pressing my wet and cold back against his warm chest.

It's like I'm riding with Death again. It's like I'm wound up in something I don't understand… or maybe I'm too afraid to understand.

"Are you a bad person?" I ask… because why would he have killed the prince? We aren't at war anymore…

Or is he still at war?

"I'm definitely not a good one." His voice is quiet and there's pain in it that I regret making him feel.

"I don't believe that. You're very good to me." And I can still remember the way he grieved for those he killed. "You regret their deaths. A bad person doesn't regret them."

"You're in pain and freezing. You're rambling nonsense now," he says.

No, I'm not rambling… but that was many years ago. That was back when the war was still young… maybe death no longer bothers him? Hell, he had to have been young when I met him. While I thought he was this immovable force, he was what? Seventeen? Eighteen? The war took them young… especially someone with magic like his. "I'll prove how good you are… I promise I will."

He's quiet for a moment before I feel his warm breath on my neck. "I would appreciate that because I'm tired of my life haunting me."

A part of me wants to ask whether he remembers that little fae pest he'd saved the life of. But another part doesn't.

I'm afraid he'll realize I know who he is, and he'll turn his back on me. I'm afraid he'll know that I'm aware that his magic alone is what nearly won the humans the war.

That he'd been dubbed the god of death.

That the amount of dead he left behind him was unlike any other.

Or maybe I'm afraid that when he realizes that I was nothing more than a beggar and a thief, he'll realize I'm not worth saving. That I was nothing more than a parasite stealing and ransacking the dead or dying. That I walked those battlefields as I became more and more numb to the death that surrounded me.

"Let's go in here," Silas says as he swings open the door to a barn. There are animals inside, but he points up to the hayloft. "We should be safe up there. Hopefully no one will notice us while we warm up. Hang on to Dandelion, he'll get you up there."

I nod and Dandelion scrutinizes the jump before easily making it. Once on the wooden floor that makes the hayloft, I slide off and undo his saddle which he shakes off before going over to rub on some stacked-up haybales.

I can hear a horse snorting, uncertain about the uninvited guests, but there's little it can do about it from inside its stall.

Instead of doing anything to clean myself up, I find myself just sitting, thoughts racing through my mind.

I don't know what to do. I don't know what is right. How the hell do I do what Markson wants and give Silas what he wants at the same time? Maybe if they meet, it'd be okay. Maybe they could work it out… figure it out…

Oh fuck.

"Are you just going to sit there and look pretty? By now you'd generally be sapping all the warmth out of that thing," Silas says as he jabs a finger at Dandelion, who is rolling and wallowing around in the hay. How the hell he thinks we'll brush all of that out of him, I have no idea.

"Pretty much," I respond as he sets a bucket of water down.

He must have also scavenged some supplies because he lays down a horse blanket before urging me onto it. I halfheartedly climb onto it as he kneels in front of me and pulls my shirt off.

"I swear you just look for trouble. You could have patiently waited on the shore for me," he says.

"Yeah…"

His hand, which had been reaching for me, hesitates. Then he acts like nothing is the matter as he dips the rag in the bucket of water before giving the rest of the water to Dandelion. Gently, he begins wiping me down. "At least you didn't tear it too badly. You must have been bleeding a little, but it's all dried now."

"Yeah…"

"You going to get out of those wet pants or just sit there and freeze?"

"Yeah…"

Silas drops the rag and reaches out to my pants. "Are you afraid of me?"

Quickly, I glance up at him. Is that why he hesitated? He thinks I'm afraid of him now that I know about the dead prince? "No, of course not."

"Do you hate me?"

"No. It's not like that."

"Okay…" he says quietly as he pulls my pants off and looks away, and I can't tell if I've hurt him. "I will get you where you need to go and be on my way."

"No!" I protest as I reach forward and grab him. "No! You left me last time; you're not leaving me this time."

"What are you talking about?" he asks.

I yank him into me. "I'm cold."

"Because you're mostly naked," he says as I hang on to him.

"I don't want to be cold."

"I'll get you dry clothes."

"No! I don't want dry clothes."

Silas lets me pull him down over the top of me, but then I don't know what to do now. I can feel the warmth of his skin… I can feel his breath… I can feel him . And I don't want to let go. I'm afraid that if I do… he'll run away.

"Weren't you just trying to run away from me, and now you want me to stay?" he asks as he cups my face.

"I'm a very complex man, alright? I'm really confused and thought I was being all heroic and shit keeping you safe," I say. "But I'm also an asshole and greedy, okay? I'm really fucking greedy, and I don't want to be away from you."

"Let me take you someplace safe and then I'll leave."

"No," I retort, rather stubbornly. "I don't want that."

"Sadly, we don't always get what we want."

My fingers sink into his body, prepared to never let go. "Then let me have this. And then I'll con you into staying."

He hesitates, but the way his eyes glance down at my lips tells me I'm winning this. Silas leans down and his lips gently brush against mine like he's taking a sample before he presses against them. His lips part and I feel his tongue against my lips. And when I part my own, his tongue brushes against mine. One hand stays on my face but the other slips down my bare side and around my back.

Even though I'm cold, everywhere his hand touches feels like fire. And when he pulls back from the kiss, I'm breathless.

"That's the first time I've kissed someone without killing them," I admit.

Silas nearly chokes. "I'm sorry. Clearly, I misheard you."

"No, no you didn't," I say, face red.

"How are you so innocent and cute?" he whispers. "And also a little scary."

"I'm not. I don't know what you're talking about," I mutter, rather embarrassed. "I just refuse to get close to people. And I mostly don't like people. I only like you."

"I see," he says as he guides his hands behind my back and gently pulls me up onto his lap so I'm straddling him. I can feel his cock through his pants and become even more flustered as he kisses me again. "With you this wounded, we're not doing more."

That's definitely not what I wanted to hear! "Wait… what? No. You dare deprive me? I'm fine. I'm healed. I'm back to normal!"

"Shh," he murmurs as his hands glide over my body. He's apparently determined to guide me through a slow and painful death if he's going to keep touching me like this and not do any more!

His fingers dip under my undergarments and teasingly trail over my ass before sliding up my back.

My cock is aching for release as I rock forward and brush against him. I'm thrilled to find that he's as hard as I am, but I don't dare reach for him.

"I want more," I say.

"Hmm… so do I, but you're wounded."

"I'm more wounded by not having more," I grumble.

He tries to kiss my complaints away, and while he does a very good job of it, it doesn't solve anything going on down below. It actually seems to make it worse. It's like he's saying one thing, yet he can't stop touching me, caressing me, drawing me along as pleasure bubbles through me.

"If it hurts, I'll tell you and you'll stop," I assure him.

Silas kisses my throat before I hear him murmur a "Hmm" against my neck. I don't know why even that makes me shiver. How could I ever have been cold? My body feels like it's on fire and yet, I need more. I need so much more.

His hand slips down my unwounded side and dips just a little under the cloth of my undergarments. His fingers brush my cock and I realize that he is the world's biggest tease. I rock forward, the movement pushing his hand between his cock and my own as he slowly guides my cock out.

"You promise you will tell me if anything hurts?" he asks.

"I will. Are you… going… to take your pants off?"

"Let's just worry about you," he says, voice soft against my ear.

"No, I don't like that."

"Why are you so picky?"

"Why do you only ever care about me and never yourself?"

Silas kisses my lips. "Will it make you happy?"

"Very much."

"Fine, you feisty fae," he says as he pushes his pants down just enough to pull his cock free, like he doesn't want to fully commit to this in case it hurts me and he has to quickly put a stop to it. But I don't care if it hurts as much as falling into the river did; I will not make a peep.

His cock brushes against mine as I realize that I've done absolutely nothing with my hands. All I've done is demand and he's had to do all the work!

What kind of lover am I?

I consider what to do with my hands, but it all seems so daunting, and he appears to know just what to do. As his hand slides along both of us, I forget all about even having hands as I melt into him.

"Fuck," I whisper.

"You okay?"

"Very okay. Better than okay. So okay. Beyond okay. Kiss me so I stop talking."

"I can do that," he says before his lips capture my own as his hand moves over me. It's as though he knows all of the sensitive spots that make me moan as I press up against him, hypnotizing me like an incubus. I don't know how much more I can take as he kisses his way down my neck. Gripping tightly to him, pleasure ripples through me as I come. He strokes me in such a way that makes me feel weak against him. I didn't know it could feel this damn good to be touched by someone else… to be touched by him.

Silas strokes himself as he tucks his head against my neck, moaning as he finds his release. His breath is heavy as he kisses my neck before drawing back and getting his stern expression out.

"I can't believe you talked me into that. You need to rest. Get your ass on the ground."

"W-What? But… you… we…" I stare at him in disbelief as he deposits me on the ground and hurries off to get dry clothes.

I'm over here still gawking as I'm stuffed into enough clothes to weather a snowstorm and forced down to rest. "I'm fine ," I grumble, a bit peeved he didn't hold me against him any longer. Not until I'm bundled does he seem content. And then… he climbs in next to me and pulls me against him. Pleased, I tuck myself against his body, finding that I fit snugly against him.

All of my prior complaints immediately dissipate as I press into him and feel warmer and safer than I ever have.