“Morning, love.” Vian’s voice was deep and rough with sleep.
Feeling a flush climbing up his face, Marcellus stilled, wondering if Vian was okay with the amount of cuddling they were doing. “Morning. How’d you sleep?”
“Like the dead.” Vian shifted around a bit, and Marcellus took that as his cue to move. “And you?”
Sitting up, he shivered as all the warmth they’d cocooned drifted away on the cool breeze. “Well.” He looked down, meeting Vian’s eyes. “Very well.”
“Aye.” Vian slid his arm around Marcellus’s lower back. Strong fingers wrapped around one hip. “I didn’t thank you last night for helping break the spell.”
Holding Vian’s gaze, Marcellus leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to his mouth. “There is no need. Having you here...having a chance for this”—he motioned between them—“to grow is all the thanks I need.”
Vian’s smile was slow and warm. He opened his mouth to say something when a high-pitched little voice cut him off.
“Vian! Marcel! Papa says it’s time for breakfast!” Sasha came running at them from the small grouping of tents that made up the whole of their camp. Dem had built the fire they’d slept beside out and a short distance away from the tents in case anything went awry.
The little girl didn’t slow down and Vian had barely sat up before she leapt into his lap for a good morning hug. “Oomph,” he grunted with a laugh, wrapping his arms around his sister. “Good morning, little fox.”
Sasha pulled back, looking at Vian with wide eyes and a huge smile. “Your brain remembers me,” she squealed, hugging him hard again.
Marcellus chuckled, enjoying the fond warmth settling over him at seeing them truly reunited. That same warmth stayed with him all morning as he watched Vian embrace his father and Dem and catch up with everyone over breakfast without fear of forgetting their names. After breakfast, Sasha pulled Vian along to show him her favorite hiding places in the patch of forest they were currently camped in. Zeph tagged along, seemingly happy to spend the day in the woods with his children.
Marcellus was enjoying the sunshine, sitting beside one of the cook fires with a cup of honeyed tea in his hand when Dem settled in beside him.
“It’s good to see your mate smile, is it not?” Dem held out his own cup for Marcel to tap his against.
“Thank you for never letting me give up,” he said quietly. “For helping me bring him back.” After he and Vian had nearly killed each other, he’d awoken in this camp—although it’d been in a different place at the time—and learned that the pull he felt for Vian was real, and that the Vian he’d scarred on the battlefield was a shrouded imitation of the true man.
“He has been sorely missed.” Dem let out a relieved sounding breath. “His soul had started searching for you, though. The spell holding his mind was already unraveling. Even if we’d been unable to bring him here, I truly believe he would have come searching for you eventually.”
“Not just me,” Marcellus said, as Vian and Sasha broke through the tree line closest to them, sticks in each of their hands and locked in a fierce duel.
Dem laughed. “They could not be closer even if they were of the same blood.”
“It warms me to see them,” he said, even as an ache bloomed in his heart.
“And it saddens you. We will see your sister set free. With Vian here, we truly have a chance.”
* * *
Flickering candlelight filled the tent.Marcellus wasn’t sure why he was nervous, but knots twisted round in his belly. He was a warrior and had faced down his share of enemies, but the thought of facing Vian alone in this enclosed, intimate space made his nerves raw.
He’d hung back most of the day, letting Vian catch up with his family. It had been a balm to watch them all together—to be included among them—while also putting pressure on the still healing wounds of his own familial losses.
The tent flap flipped open, making his heart leap in his chest. Vian stepped in, securing the flap closed behind him, and then stopped a couple steps inside.
“You did mean for me to bunk with you?”
Hearing the uncertainty in Vian’s voice released the vice in his chest. He chuckled. “We’re like two boys with the clumsy fumbles of a first bedding. Of course, I want you here.”
Vian let out a low laugh of his own. “I’m not the only one afflicted with nerves, then?”
“Not at all.” Marcellus held out his hand to Vian. He was sitting on the bed, a raised pallet covered in soft furs. He’d already shed his clothes, leaving only the thin linen short breeches he favored for sleeping. Vian’s eyes traced over the nakedness of his chest as he stepped forward, lacing their fingers together. “Take off your clothes and come to bed.”
Vian smirked at him, but did as bade, stripping himself down to the skin. Golden light slid and dipped over all of Vian’s contours. He had a warrior’s body, solidly muscled with broad shoulders leaning down into a narrow waist and hips. Dark hair sprouted all over his chest and down into a line over the rippled plane of his stomach before swelling again to encircle the base of his cock. Which was filling before Marcellus’s eyes.
He reached out again, running his hands over muscled and hairy thighs. Vian was beautiful. “You’re magnificent,” he said, awe filling his voice. Without letting his hand leave skin, Marcellus got to his feet, trailing his fingers up over Vian’s hips and sides until he brushed the edge of the scar high on Vian’s chest.
He took a breath, apology on the tip of his tongue, but Vian settled his hand over Marcellus’s and leaned forward, kissing the words right out of his mouth. He reveled in Vian’s lips and tongue and the scratch of his beard. Lowering himself, he kissed every patch of skin he could reach, leaving a couple reddened bite marks along the way.