Page 22 of Distant Heart

But there was something else he was going to force into him, no matter how many times his xa’us claimed he didn’t want it.

Chapter 9:

Rexton woke to the sound of wood popping and crackling and turned his head to find he was laid out on his stomach in front of a roaring fireplace. The heat had already seeped into him, making him feel sleepy and languid, and he almost didn’t notice that he was still naked.

“What did you do to me?” he asked, staring at the flames. He could sense the other presence in the room without having to see him there. “Where are we?”

“My wing of Castle Black,” Illya’s rich voice started on the other side of the room and made its way over to him as he approached. “And I’ve cleaned you out and ran you a hot bath. Do you not remember?”

Vaguely, but only in bits and pieces. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Not long. I only left a few minutes ago to get the oil.”

“Oil?”

Illya straddled him suddenly, planting a palm over the back of Rexton’s neck to keep him down. When the move wasn’t met with resistance, he slowly eased his hand away and the pop of a cap sounded. “What’s wrong, xa’us, too satisfied to continue fighting?”

“You’ve already got me locked up in your room. I think we’re past the point of it being inevitable.” Rexton rested his cheek on the soft carpeted floor and sighed. “What happens next?”

“I’m still worried you’ll get sick from being out there,” Illya said. “This is phisto oil, it’ll help penetrate—”

“Don’t say that word like I don’t know where this is leading.”

“—your tissue and warm you up internally.”

Rexton rolled his eyes. “I’m not naïve.”

“Coming from the man who chose to run out into the middle of a snowstorm, that doesn’t hold much merit.”

“You’re the one who told me to run.”

“Yes, because I didn’t think you’d leave the building.” Illya rubbed his hands together and then brought them to Rexton’s shoulders, grunting smugly when Rex instantly moaned. “You have a lot of knots.”

“That’s your fault too,” he griped, but he didn’t tell him to stop. “Where are my clothes?”

“I left them in the woods.”

Rexton scowled, but before he could say anything, Illya dug his thumbs into a particularly tense spot and he hissed.

“You won’t need them here,” Illya reassured.

Or maybe threatened.

Rex honestly couldn’t tell.

So he changed the subject instead.

“Do this often?” He risked a glance over his shoulder when the Black Hart momentarily paused at the question.

Illya recovered quickly enough though. “Which part?”

“Any of it?” he asked, then added, “All of it? Don’t think I forgot what your friend said at the party. So, how exactly did you spend your Cor Nights before me, Ill?”

“Are you jealous?” he seemed far too pleased by that possibility. Then his hands roamed down the length of Rexton’s back. “What does it matter?”

“It matters because—” Rexton tried to turn and then noticed there was a band around his right wrist that hadn’t been there before. It was black and metallic, and when he turned it, a tiny blood-red bead with an I engraved into the center flashed in the firelight. “What is this?”

“We tried the running game,” Illya stated cryptically. “While it was fun, I think we can retire it.”

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