Avette’s careful double talk had never rung quite so loud as it did in that moment. So much so that Kai recoiled from the threat as though she’d screamed it. And then, so minutely that Ger wasn’t sure he’d really seen it, the Merrow King nodded. Avette tilted her head with a breathy gasp of delight.
“Wonderful,” she said. “Now, my dear Captain Doran, won’t you please see that King Cumhaill is shown to his quarters? He shall need plenty of rest; we have soverymuch to plan.”
???
Ger barely remembered finding his way to the kitchens, but when he tried the door and found it locked, sense flooded him in an overwhelming wave.
What was hedoinghere?
Of course, it was locked at this hour. Why had he come here? Why hadthisbeen his knee-jerk reaction to the flood of paralysing fear that roared in his veins like a poisonous river? Congealing in his chest and mind, killing him slowly like he’d always feared it would. Ger leaned against the door, kneading at his chest with one hand like he could get the too-thick blood flowing again, get his heart and lungs and brain functioning so he could find his way to Kai’s rooms and—
The door fell open beneath his shoulder, and Ger pitched sideways, colliding with a slight but solid frame.
“Fuck—”
“What are—”
Jack steadied him, long fingers warm around both of Ger’s arms as he found his footing.
“Goddess,are you alright?” Jack’s face went from startled to perturbed, the soft arch of his black brows flattening. “Come in. Come on, sit down.”
Ger had seen the kitchens like this only once before, the night of the strawberry jam kiss. It was quiet and clean, still warm from a full day of endless cooking. The sconces were doused, with only a lantern to spread thin, yellow light to the far corners of the main kitchen, the open chambers beyond engulfed in shadow.
Jack guided him to the nearest table where the lantern sat, its glow flickering as though it had been lit for some time already. It was only when he sank onto the bench that Ger realised he was shaking uncontrollably. It was even worse when Jack stepped back, an awful chill sweeping in like the crash and drag of a wave, washing away the warmth of Jack’s hands. He watched, teeth chattering, as the porter moved efficiently around thekitchen. With the flurry of ice and adrenaline that raged over Ger’s senses, Jack seemed impossibly calm and capable moving around in the lantern light, casting slim shadows that danced along the stone walls. It was soothing to watch; his breath came a little easier, he found, if he focused on the fluid movement of Jack’s hands instead of the movement of his own floundering heart. So he sat with his back to the table and watched those hands catching at the handle of a copper pot, thumbing through a tray of spices, flicking open a cupboard for honey. He was so entranced, in fact, that it didn’t occur to him what Jack had been doing until the porter finally walked over and reached past him to set a steaming mug down on the table.
“We’ll let that cool,” Jack said softly, and then in another of those calm, assured movements, he dropped to a crouch before Ger and caught his eye. “And if you like, you can tell me what happened.”
Ger felt his head tic; he couldn’t find his voice, but Jack seemed to understand it for the denial it was.
“Alright,” he said simply. “Do you want to tell me what you need?”
“I—” Ger faltered.
Whatdidhe need? Why was he here?
He blinked and found his eye had drifted to Jack’s hand, where it grasped the bench for balance. The long calloused fingers and that intriguing, angular jut beneath his thumb. There was a slight dusting of cinnamon on the back of his knuckles from the tea he’d made, its scent still warming the air. Ger felt the curl of the steam fill his lungs, honey and spice—and realised he could breathe again. Quite easily.
And out of nowhere, he heard himself blurt the thought aloud before it had fully formed in his own exhausted mind.
“Were you waiting for me?”
This close to the lanternlight, it was hard to miss the flush of warmth that kissed the porter’s cheeks. His straight, black lashes bobbed, gaze dropping away, and for a moment, Ger was sure he’d deny it. But then those brown eyes fixed on his—and his heart leapt.
Jack nodded.
“Yes,” he said, with that same comforting calm that had coaxed away the cold panic. “I was waiting for you.”
Goddess.
It had beenfartoo long since Ger had felt like himself. He’d been good at this once, smooth and self-assured. Heknewwhat he wanted to do in that moment, understood the impulse that moved through him, but when he reached for Jack, it was clumsy. Desperate. His hand curled beneath the porter’s shirt collar andtugged.If he hadn’t been so overcome by the breath that now moved easily through his lungs, he might’ve been embarrassed to have his mouth crash against Jack’s. But he felt those plump lips curve beneath his own, a low gust of laughter.
And then, just as he had from the moment Ger stumbled through the door, Jack took care of it.
He rose carefully on his knees, those elegant hands sliding into his hair and righting the angle so their lips slanted together in the softest, slowest kiss. With every pass of his lips, Jack breathed irresistible warmth into his chilled skin. His cupid’s bow, his bottom lip, that mouth lush and full and, Goddess,veryfucking kissable. So much so, he couldn’t recall why they hadn’tbeen doing this the whole bloody time. Ger couldn’t find the will to stop, even when his breath started to drag in his chest. So he didn’t. He crushed himself closer, sliding his hand around the nape of Jack’s neck to twist into his silken hair, and when the porter loosed thatsoundfrom low in his throat, a familiar heat tightened below Ger’s navel, and he didn’t stop to think.
He dragged Jack up from the ground and into his lap, guided by sheer sensation and some base need to lose himself in the warmth and comfort of the beautiful man who’d sat up waiting for him on a horrible, harrowing night. Who’d made him tea because he was shivering. Who left him buttered bread rolls every night, just because he’d noticed how much he liked them.
Jack’s hands grasped at the table behind them, fumbling for leverage so he could press his full weight into their kiss, and Goddess,he liked that too. The groan that slipped out was hot and loud in the tight space between them, and he honestly could not say which of them it came from.
