Hadrian reached out a hand and placed it over Dorian’s lying in the grass between them. He needed to feel… something. His heart was so full and troubled and it had nowhere to go. Dorian didn’t look at him at the touch, but he turned his hand so he could lace their fingers together tightly. Warmth spread through Hadrian as they sat there under the apple tree, lost in silence and simple touch.
In the western field a flock of hosks silently took flight, their red-striped wings shining in the sun. A second later, the reason for their upheaval became apparent. Voices. Many voices. They were coming toward the house from the opposite side from where he and Dorian sat. He looked at Dorian and found him staring back, wide-eyed. From the sound and direction, they would likely be seen if they tried to make it back to the house. But the people, whoever they were, would surely see them if they stayed there. The apple trees were far too small to hide them.
Dorian stood quickly without letting go of his hand and led him, half crouched to the small shed on the other side of the path. He opened the door slowly, and Hadrian tried to hold back from pushing him to hurry in his panic. The door creaked, and he winced, but Dorian was able to open it enough for them to slide into the darkness without much noise. He shoved Hadrian inside in front of him and shut the door behind him.
The shed had looked small from the outside, but with what seemed to be tall shelving and various broken bits of farming tools crammed inside, there was barely room to turn around. Dorian pressed him as far from the door as he could—which wasn’t far. They stood in the cramped space, pressed chest to chest, and listened.
At first, they heard nothing. Then the voice came again. Five or six people at least. Maybe more. Some of the voices waned as Hadrian listened, becoming muffled and then louder, and he realized they were going in the house and coming out again. Fear of what they would find mixed with a quiet, burning anger at them intruding in a space that he was shocked to realize he considered his even though he had no more right to it than these faceless soldiers.
Dorian’s hand found his waist, and Hadrian jumped at the sudden touch, his heart leaping. Dorian pulled him closer, and Hadrian leaned into him. There would be no escape if they were found here. No way to defend themselves. All they could do was hold each other and hope.
“Find anything good?” a voice yelled from close to the shed.
“No,” someone yelled back from further away. “Just some dirty pots and old clothes.”
Idiots, Hadrian thought. Anyone with half a brain would be able to see the dishes had been recently used. He was grateful for their stupidity, though. It might save their lives—or at least save them from a night spent in a dirty shed. He hoped the people didn’t investigate the apple trees. A bowl of freshly picked sunbell would be obvious even to a blind man.
That was the last of the voices they could make out. The shouted conversations continued but moved farther and farther away toward the eastern field. After ten minutes, they heard nothing but silence again. Hadrian rested his forehead against Dorian’s shoulder and took a deep, shaky breath. Dorian ran a hand over his hair gently.
“Probably just a patrol on their way home,” he whispered. “Looking for things to loot.”
Hadrian just nodded against his shoulder, the ebbing of adrenaline making him feel foggy and tired. Maybe it was havingDorian’s arms wrapped around him too. He was suddenly very aware of his warm, solid body pressed tightly to his.
Dorian’s hand moved from his hair to cup the side of his face, and he gently raised Hadrian’s head from his shoulder. Hadrian couldn’t quite see him in the darkness, just a shadowy silhouette, but he felt the heat of his touch and the steady rise and fall of his chest pressed against his. Dorian’s fingers stroked softly along the line of his jaw, his thumb brushed gently over his lips. Then he moved to the back of his neck and pulled him down until they were so close their breath mingled. Hadrian tingled with anticipation. He could almost feel Dorian’s lips against his. But Dorian didn’t close the space between them.
Finally, Hadrian couldn’t take the overwhelming need anymore. He pressed up and kissed him. It was a soft, tentative kiss at first, nothing but the barest touch of lips, but then Dorian threaded his fingers in his hair and deepened the kiss to something far more hungry. Hadrian moaned into his mouth and pulled him closer, his hands roaming over Dorian’s back, tracing the hard muscles beneath his thin shirt. Their tongues met and Hadrian opened for him more, wanting as much as he could get, desperate to be closer. Hadrian sighed as Dorian’s fingers tightened in his hair, moving him where he wanted him so he could take what he wanted.
Suddenly Dorian pulled back, his breath still heavy against his skin.
“I’m… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have,” he said, shaking his head as if trying to clear it.
“No—” Dorian pulled away completely before Hadrian could say more. He immediately missed the warmth of Dorian’s touch and the feel of his mouth.
“We should go back to the house,” Dorian said, turning back to the door. Hadrian dropped his hands to his sides, feeling hurt and confused. Had this only been a reaction to the fear? Hethought there was more.Hehad felt more at least. But maybe he was wrong. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.
Dorian stood for a moment at the door, and Hadrian thought he would say more. He hoped he would. Hadrian considered saying more himself, but he didn’t know what. He didn’t know what Dorian wanted. He didn’t even know what he wanted.
Finally, Dorian opened the door quietly, peeked outside, then motioned him to follow.
7
Dorian felt like an idiot. A needy, turned-on idiot. He berated himself silently all the way back to the house, watching the fields for any signs of lingering soldiers. He saw none, but he almost wished he had, if just to put off having to stand in the dim kitchen with Hadrian watching him expectantly. He moved to bar the door of the house and check the windows to avoid that stare.
It had been a selfish thing he’d done, kissing Hadrian, and at an inappropriate time. But he had been so close and so soft, and Dorian had always had to face fear alone. It was one of the first things he was taught after his parents died. There was no one on a battlefield to rely on. You mastered your fear and faced it head-on.
But holding Hadrian had felt like sharing the fear that had weighed on him for nearly as long as he could remember. Not just the fear of getting caught by the soldiers roaming the farm, but the bigger fear. The fear of being alone again, like he had when his parents died.
And he had wanted more. So much more. He had wanted everything. Mage or not, Hadrian was kind, and smart, and beautiful. And in that moment, having him in his arms, nothing else mattered.
That was where he’d gone wrong. Because so much else mattered. What Hadrian wanted—although he seemed to be open to kissing Dorian, he may have just been scared too.And there was their situation. What good would it do to grow attached if they were doomed to part in a day or two? And what could he offer a man like Hadrian?
He sighed as he looked over the covered window. At the very least he owed Hadrian an apology. He had done nothing but try to help, and Dorian had overstepped badly. He turned to the mage, standing in the kitchen still watching him silently, and squared his shoulders.
“Hadrian, I—”
“Are you hungry?” Hadrian said over him. “We left the sunbell, but I wouldn’t want to light the stove again anyway, since it’s getting dark. Just in case. But there are still vegetables and broth. I wish we had bread,” he sighed. “But even if I grew the wheat, I don’t have the first idea how to make bread. I think wheat is involved. We always just got it from the market.” He closed his mouth suddenly, and his pale cheeks turned pink. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s…” Dorian took the coward's way out once again. “Yes, I am hungry.”
