How do I tell him that we have to mate in the pool to complete the bond? He’s already only moments from bolting.
He’d give almost anything to be able to give this man more time. But time was the last thing they had in abundance.
Reaper stopped at the pool’s edge, his boots sinking slightly into the damp earth. He didn’t look back. “This some kind of fairy-tale shit? Jump in and magic fixes everything?”
The corner of Cian’s mouth twitched. “You know about the pool?” He stopped just behind Reaper. His fingers ached to touch him, and his wolf howled in his head when he refused to push before their Grá Croí was ready.
“Something in here,” Reaper tapped his chest, “says that this is where it must happen. You ever heard of lube? Because ow…”
What’s lube, Cian?
No idea, I will ask.
He cocked his head to one side. “What is this lube you speak of? Is it part of your bonding rituals?” He and Failinis could make an effort to include some of Reaper’s rituals if it made it easier on him.
Reaper's jaw dropped, “Man, if you think we’re fucking without having something to ease the way when your…” he glanced at Cian’s groin, “um… weapon slides home, you done lost your mind. Been there, done that, it’s not fun.”
“Ah.” Realization dawned.
He means oil, Failinis.
“The water’s a conduit; it both strengthens our bond and makes the first joining easier. After the first?” He could feel the heat rising up his cheeks, “That’s on us.”
Reaper’s laugh was a bitter bark. “Easier. Right.” His fingers flexed at his sides, then curled into fists again. “You ever done this before?”
“No.”
The word hung between them, heavy with implication. He had waited lifetimes for this moment, and now that it was here, it was a mess of a reluctant Grá Croí and raw nerves because he and Failinis craved this so much. He could feel Reaper’s resistance. But beneath it—faint, but there—was the thread of something else. Something that might have been desire.
Reaper’s breath hitched, and without warning, he whipped his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. “Okay. I don’t want either of us to die. Let’s do it.”
Cian’s pulse spiked, and he reached for the hem of his own tunic, yanking it off in one fluid motion. The night air hit his skin, sending a shiver through him, but the bond burned hot enough to keep the chill at bay. He stepped forward, close enough that his chest nearly brushedReaper’s back.
“Turn around.” He blinked when Reaper kept staring out over the water, and a growl rumbled in his chest, “Look at me.”
For a couple of long, painful heartbeats, his Grá Croí did nothing, and Cian blew out a breath of relief when he finally turned. It didn’t matter that his movements were stiff and his expression locked down. But his eyes, those dark, stormy eyes, betrayed him. They flicked over the wolf image on his chest, then snapped back up to meet his gaze.
He reached out, slow, giving Reaper time to pull away. His fingers hovered just above his skin, close enough to feel the heat and the faintest tremor. “The bond won’t let us hurt each other. Not like that.” The words were torn from him. “But it’s not just about survival. It’s about?—”
“Don’t.” Reaper’s voice was like the crack of a whip. “Don’t feed me some line about destiny or fate or whatever the hell you people call it. I don’t need pretty words.”
Cian’s hand dropped. “I wasn’t going to.”
Reaper’s eyes narrowed.
“I was going to say,” Cian ignored Failinis’s protests in his head. His honor, and the need to protect the warrior they’d been gifted with the gift of the only thing he could offer… his own life, “it’s about not dying alone. If you really don’t want this, then we go back to your brothers in arms, and the Fianna, and we will leave this world with the ones we love, and we know love us at our sides. There is no shame in it.”
Nooooooo.
Hush, Failinis.
“If it is what you need, then I swear it is what will be.”
Something flickered in Reaper’s gaze, as if the resolve he had faltered for a moment. But just as fast, it was gone, shuttered behind his impossibly high walls again. But he’d seen it, and it was enough. He stepped back, just enough to give Reaper space. Then he turned and walked into the pool.
The water was cold, a shock to his system, but the bond flared in response, warming his skin from the inside out. He didn’t dare to look back. He could not and would not force the decision. “Coming?”
The long silence, before the distinct sound of a belt hitting the ground and the rustle of fabric reached his ears, was excruciating, but he held himself in place. His breath caught as Reaper stepped into the water behind him, the ripple of movement sending waves lapping against his skin.
