[Tales of Amaranth 02] - Healing Heart [Loose Id MM BDSM] by Thom Lane

Author:Thom Lane [Lane, Thom]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five CORYN

I woke, or at least I heaved myself into consciousness, like a man who has had to haul a long, long chain up a steep, steep hill: constantly dragged back by the weight of it, constantly struggling higher and higher, with the summit almost but not quite out of reach…

I woke into warmth and weariness, an impossible exhaustion, a lethargy so deep it made my bones ache.

It was as familiar as the soft, luxurious comfort of the bed I lay in, and as dreaded. I didn't need to open my eyes to know where I was. Or why. So much sickness, the plague that ran on and on, and all I could do was follow stumbling in its wake…

I may have groaned, perhaps, just a little. Maybe I only twitched.

I must have done something, at least, enough to alert the one who shared my bed.

That weight across my legs, that was someone else's leg, almost deliberately flung over mine, almost like an anchor to hold me down.

Like the arm that snaked unhurriedly across my chest, that was firm warm flesh but might as well have been stone for all the chance I had of shifting it.

Like the head that settled determinedly on my shoulder, gentle breath in my ear, patient and unmovable.

Patient and unmovable and mine: I recognised the touch, the feel, the smell of him, the hint of voice unspoken in his breath.

I didn't understand how he was here—hadn't I sent him away?—but at first I was nothing but glad of it, a great upswelling happiness that came from somewhere deeper even than my tiredness.

And then the dread came back, dread of the day. I may have groaned again.

“Easy, Master. Just lie still.” There was the voice itself, soft and sweet, a stream I could float away on if it weren't so sensual, if I didn't want to root myself firmly back in my body again just to enjoy the pleasures of his. But I didn't have time to indulge myself or him, much as I longed to. People were dying, and there was only me to stand between the town and that tide of death. “I need to…”

“No, you don't,” he said, quite firmly. A slave instructing his master. “You don't need to do anything. You could open your eyes,” he added after a moment, musingly, “but only if you want to. Or just sleep more, if you'd rather.”

There was something in his voice when he said that: an amusement, a secret, something teasing? I wasn't sure, but something.

No matter. I couldn't allow myself to be seduced into idleness. I was master here; I'd throw him off, if I had to. Beat him to help him learn. He needed discipline.

So did I. I needed to get up. Time was as slow as honey, as hard to push through. It took an age just to force my eyes open.

When I did, I found him right there, where I already knew he was, claiming the core of my attention, which we both knew he could not have.

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