Page 41 of Tossing the Caber

Beacon hops down from the wagon and swings Laurel down beside him, setting him gently on his feet, which have become sore and blistered.

“Come with me,” he murmurs, guiding Laurel away fromthe opening gates, chattering from the clan members inside already audible.

Laurel summons a small globe of light in his palm, using it to avoid tripping as Beacon guides him through a maze of gingko trees. He can’t stop peering through the branches, not wanting to look away from the stars.

Nights in Emberleigh were lovely; Laurel had never had any reason to complain. But here, where the immense weight of the Dun Steorran heavens bears down, Laurel wants to fall to his knees in awe.

Beacon pulls him into a clearing, gingko trees forming a circle around a small, solitary fountain.

“It’s even more vast the higher you travel up the mountain,” Beacon informs Laurel with a soft smile.

“I won’t be able to survive it,” responds Laurel. “It’s too much.”

“The lack of oxygen will help.”

“I heard the altitude makes water boil differently.” Beacon shrugs while Laurel taps his chin. “I’ll have to do more research before I attempt any spells once we’re finally home.”

At the word ‘home,’ Beacon swells like a rooster about to crow, a sharp, masculine inhale. Laurel doesn’t tease; let the man preen over having a husband to provide for. He rather enjoys Beacon’s doting.

Beacon indicates for Laurel to sit on the edge of the fountain, then joins him, his larger body folding awkwardly on the short wall.

Laurel trails his fingers over the gently rippling surface of the water. “Why did you bring me here?”

“Truly? I wasn’t ready to face my family yet.” Beacon smiles at Laurel’s giggle, but then his face sobers. “I also wanted a still moment with you before my ridiculous life explodes all over yours.”

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing. Are you worried I’ll hateit?” Grimacing, Beacon see-saws his hand. Laurel catches it with his tail, enjoying how Beacon squeezes it rather than not knowing what to do with the appendage. “I won’t hate anything,” Laurel assures him. “As long as I’m with you, I’ll be happy.”

“Those are strong words.”

“So was the promise to knock a wall out of your cottage so you can fit a larger wash area.”

Beacon kisses his cheek, lips not fully leaving Laurel’s skin as he says, “I suppose.”

“I’m right.”

“Of course you are.”

Laurel kisses him then, so deeply that his little orb of light extinguishes, so deeply that the stars fold over them like a thick, heavenly blanket. Beacon takes him even further down until they’re clutching each other, and Laurel has swung himself up over Beacon’s lap.

When they unlatch, their mouths are wet and swollen, Beacon’s lips red and Laurel’s chin raw from being scratched by Beacon’s growing beard.

“Is it alright to tell you I love you?” Laurel wonders.

Beacon jolts as if the words have shocked him, which makes Laurel want to say them even more. “Why would— I, I don’t…”

“Because it’s so soon,” Laurel explains. “I already know that you’re the man I’ve been waiting for. Best thing my father ever did for me.”

“Theonlygood thing,” Beacon grouses; Laurel doesn’t argue. After a long moment of contemplating the stars, Beacon says, “I love you as well, then.”

“You can’t just say that if you haven’t put thought into it.”

Beacon’s brow arches. “Who says I haven’t?”

Laurel’s lips part, but surprise keeps him mute. Maybe hewasn’t expecting to hear those words either. Again, he muses, “Is it too soon?”

“We married five days after meeting.”

“Is that a ‘no’?”