Bound to the Beast(The Greenwood 2) by Kay Berrisford

Author:Kay Berrisford [Berrisford, Kay]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Erotic Romance, Gay, BDSM, Fiction, Historical
ISBN: 9781611189636
Google: hxyUmwEACAAJ
Amazon: B007SRM042
Publisher: Loose Id LLC
Published: 2012-04-08T12:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Cradling his knuckles, Tam dashed across the cloister. The cloudy day had dissolved into drizzle, forcing him to blink beads of water from his lashes. Dewer padded toward him, wagging her tail. He snarled, feral, and sent her whimpering back, her tail drooping.

“Why won’t you help me?”

How wretched he’d become. He’d made mistake after stupid mistake today, and now Herne must perceive him as a whining child. Why should the man help him? Why, when only that abominable betrothal spell brought them together?

The truth felt all the more bitter because Herne had awakened that dark core of his being Tam avoided dwelling on in the light of day, setting his desires slowly spreading through him, yearning like tender shoots for light and rain. Desires neither pure, innocent, nor clean. There was no reason Herne should return his lusts. He was fortunate Herne had been as generous thus far. Only Tam had much to lose.

And what about Herne’s ancient lover? The witch, Godda, evidently knew Herne’s past, and Tam remained sure it was not all lies.

“A passion that has echoed through the centuries, that even now gnaws all that’s left of his rotted heart.”

Ah, yes. That pain he felt as plainly as his own. Another lover caused this injury, another man at that. He should have known. Somehow knowledge of an ancient female lover would have choked him less. If Herne’s feelings for this other man endured, then Tam could never be more to him than a whore or a slave. Still he wanted the huntsman; for just one murmur of true affection, he feared he would give up his life.

With a wordless shout, Tam turned on his toes and sliced a kick through the rain.

I’m a vile cur. If I even get out of here, I don’t deserve respect or a home of my own or, God forbid, a wife. I deserve to be somebody’s chattel forever. Dirty sodomites ought to be made slaves or put to death.

He’d never held faith in the sentiments running through his head, but they seemed easier to stomach than the truth. Confusion dizzied him. He’d give anything for this all to be over, to be back home drinking mead and eating Ann’s pea pottage. He’d rather listen to Richard scolding him for overfeeding the chickens, or stare at Jerome’s fat visage, than wither beneath the onslaught of Herne’s midnight-blue gaze. Oh heavens, would nobody help him, or worse, would his wits fail him?

Herne drew near again. Tam could feel it. Slowly he turned to watch the huntsman approach. Amid long evening shadows cast by the pillars of the cloister, Herne might have been taken for another stone monster come to life. When he spoke, his voice was low and very human.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Tam suppressed a flinch of surprise. Herne’s apology seemed to soften the edges of this hard man, although Tam steeled himself for more bad news. “You’re sorry that you want me dead?”

“No. That is the last thing I want, Tam.

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