Page 31 of Ryld's Shadows
Hank’s face creased into his thinking expression, and he chewed on his upper lip with one tusk. “It wouldn’t be taking advantage, no. Though it’s good to ask first.” More creasing as Hank watched the willow leaves sway gently. “Yes. I think I’d like that.”
This is very exciting.Ryld lifted both hands and gently touched his fingers to Hank’s cheeks. He pressed his lips to Hank’s, and his tusks weren’t in the way at all.
Hank pulled in a sharp breath through his nose, and Ryld wondered if he’d done something wrong. Then his eyes closed, and his hands came up to cup the back of Ryld’s head, his lips pressing softly, searchingly against Ryld’s.
Ryld’s instincts had suggested kissing Hank would be nice, but his instincts had been woefully inaccurate. Kissing Hank was so much better than nice. It was nearly overwhelming. So different from any other kiss he’d had. There was nothing hard or punishing in it. Just softness and a tingle of heat. A swirl of different feelings rushed through him in a mess of confusion, so much of it he was afraid he really would be overwhelmed. He pulled back and had to close his eyes tight and breathe deeply.
“Ryld?”
Hank’s voice sounded strange. Deeper. Something in it he hadn’t heard before from Hank. Whatever it was didn’t help the confused feelings go away. He shook his head and held up a hand, breathed in again and let it out slowly. After a moment or two the feeling of being on the edge of something started to fade, and he was both relieved and sorry. He opened his eyes and looked at Hank as he licked his lips. The taste of Hank’s lips still lingering on his own was almost enough to set him off again.
“I’ve never felt a kiss like that. You’re right. The tusks don’t get in the way at all.”
“You approached them just right.” Hank’s hands slid down his arms to take his hands gently. “And that was wonderful.”
It was wonderful. Hank was wonderful too. He felt like that was some sort of discovery, but it couldn’t be because he’d known that for some time. Still, it was hard to hold in the feeling that made him want to tell everyone he knew that Hank was wonderful. Besides, it was much nicer to sit in the shade and talk.
The sun had sunk much lower on the horizon by the time they decided to walk back to the subway and head home.
“Would you like to watch another movie tonight?” Ryld asked, thinking that if they watched another movie, maybe they could sit on the couch and practice cuddling. “You can choose this time.”
Hank laughed. “And maybe this time I can stay awake. Sure. We’ll see what’s on when we get there. I’m sure we can find something we both like.”
“There is a show about how many different things are made. If you like to know how things are made.”
Ryld’s skin prickled a warning, and Hank suddenly flew backward, landing hard on the ground. They had just reached the main path where they had turned off earlier.
“Hank!” Ryld turned to go to him and was only able to take three steps before hitting a solid, invisible surface.
“Keep him there while I take care of the orc.”
“You should not call him that!” Ryld shouted as he pushed against the wall.
On the path, Hank was gathering himself to his feet. Cress stalked toward him, knives out. Another elf, one with no knives, held his hands apart, blue magic crackling from his fingertips.
“Cress, you stupid, mushroom-brained flatworm,” Hank growled.
The growl did not seem to frighten Cress. He pointed a knife at Hank and snarled back, “It’s your fault. I don’t know what you told them, but I’ve been blackballed from the agency. What the fuck am I supposed to do for a job in this idiotic world?”
“Not my problem, elf-boy.” Hank had circled around so he could see both elves. “Should’ve thought of that before you bullied someone you were supposed to be watching out for.”
Cress screamed something in elvish that Ryld couldn’t understand and charged, both knives held low. The knives whispered through the air in their own language, probably saying terrible things. The first one Hank caught on his forearm, low on the blade. The second didn’t hit him since he seized Cress’ wrist. They grappled, shoes sliding on the path as they pushed against each other.
Ryld pushed too. He put both hands against the barrier preventing him from going forward, but it didn’t move. He tried to find an edge, but it was as if a glass bowl had been overturned above him. He hit it with his fist as he watched Hank and Cress struggle against each other. Both elf and half-goblin were tall, but Hank was bigger, stronger. But Cress had knives.
He kicked and hit the wall holding him. Then Cress pulled instead of pushing and kicked the side of Hank’s knee. There was a terrible crunch and Hank’s leg collapsed. He lost his grip on the one knife, and Cress drove it into Hank’s shoulder.
Ryld’s breath rasped in his throat as he yelled, “No!” The shadows at his feet were shifting, but he didn’t pay them any attention. Blood bloomed in bright crimson on Hank’s shirt and Ryld threw himself against the shield holding him. “No, nonono…”
Hank grabbed Cress’ ankle and yanked his leg out from under him. Cress landed hard and sent a vicious kick at Hank’s side. Cress’ other knife came a hair’s breadth from slicing Hank’s face.
“Get away from him!” Ryld screamed. The voice didn’t sound like his own. He’d never felt so filled with rage.
The knife was still in Hank’s shoulder. The bloodstain widened and widened on his shirt. He got hold of Cress again and managed to hold onto his knife arm while smashing his forehead into Cress’ nose. Now they were both bleeding. Cress still had two uninjured arms, though, and he smashed Hank’s head against the pavement.
Ryld’s vision narrowed, shadows blotting out everything around him. A wordless scream rose from his chest, then wind gusted all around him as the circle holding him shattered and black beasts as large as wolves streamed outward. Darkness, everything was darkness. He struggled against it for a moment longer, but it was no use. The shadows broke their chains and would do what they were made to do.
* * * *
