Page 51 of Sword & Sacrifice

Archer finally stood up and stalked toward the desk. He placed a hand on either side of Silas, capturing him between his strong arms, and leaned down to kiss him again. Though the kiss was softer, it still had a hint of tongue and desperate frenzy. When he pulled away, he looked at Silas, eyes dark with desire. “Duty first,” he agreed. His thumb traced the edge of Silas’ lips. “For the rest of the night, you’re mine.”

Talking while eating was a fine idea until their mouths were full. The sounds of chewing and nothing else filled the small room for a long time. Usually, Archer didn’t like to talk while he ate. That had changed somewhat after meeting Silas, who filled every meal with conversation, but usually he talked while Archer listened.

Even though Silas clearly had something he wanted to discuss, he hadn’t said a word since taking his first bite.

Archer didn’t know where to start. Everything had become so muddled in his brain. Mushy, murky thoughts slipping through his fingers. They should talk about the alliance, the trade agreements, the future of their kingdoms.

Eventually, Archer broke the silence. “I’ll write to you.”

Silas’s lips quirked but the smile was short-lived. “That’ll be more difficult without magic. The letters will take days at best, more likely weeks.”

Archer’s brow furrowed and he glowered at his plate, poking at a piece of broccoli.

“Any news from Penn?” Silas asked, hopeful.

Archer shook his head. Unless he intercepted the messenger on the road, he would probably miss any letters from Penn.

“I hope he and Valerian are all right.”

“They’ll manage.” They were both strong, trained fighters, which Archer had more faith in than Valerian’s magic. If they found trouble in Sparrow Hill, they could hopefully hold their own until Archer arrived with backup.

“At least they’re together.”

Archer squeezed his eyes shut. He hated leaving Silas—again. But like before, he knew it was necessary. Last time, Silas had been left alone with only a witch to protect him. This time, Archer’s own people would be here to guard him. Still, some part of Archer—quite a large part—wanted Silas to say—

“Stay with me.” Silas pulled the words straight from Archer’s thoughts.

Archer cupped Silas’ cheek, running his thumb over the thick stubble, the rough start to a beard. It made him look older than when they’d met, like years had passed instead of months. But he looked healthier too, less like faded ink on a page and more like a complete book. “I want to stay with you,” Archer whispered.

Silas closed his eyes and leaned into Archer’s hand.

Archer swallowed roughly and finished, “Once it’s safe.”

I’m leaving you now so no one can tear us apart in the future. The words might have been easy to say for anyone else. For Archer, they were tied up in his useless tongue. Every time he tried to push past the knots, it all became more tangled.

The time to speak his mind passed as soon as Silas pressed his lips to Archer’s. He willingly let the words go in favor of using his tongue in a more pleasurable manner.

They abandoned their half-eaten dinners and their half-understood conversation.

The frantic passion they’d had before melted into something sweeter. Each kiss was slow and leisurely, as if they could force the night to match their pace, to give them more time together.

Archer untucked Silas’ shirt from his waistband, trailing his fingers along Silas’ skin as he inched the material up. His fingertips burned from the heated flesh. Months ago, he would have felt the protrusion of Silas’ ribs, but since breaking the curse, he’d filled out. How much more will he change while I’m gone?

Archer wanted to watch Silas grow stronger, in every way possible. He would have to settle for the anticipation of relearning everything about the man once they were together again.

Silas pulled away long enough to ask, “Are you going to undress me or just tease me?”

Lost in his own thoughts, Archer hadn’t realized he’d simply been standing with his hands under Silas’ shirt, palms pressed against his skin. He finished his task, lifting the shirt over Silas’ head and discarding it with a careless toss, earning a breathy laugh from the other man.

“Should I return the favor?” Silas asked, his voice low and husky as he grasped the front of Archer’s shirt. He slipped his hand under the cloth, mimicking Archer’s slow pace. The roughness of his healing wounds contrasted with his gentle touch. He paused to tweak and pinch both of Archer’s nipples before moving on.

Several inches shorter than Archer, Silas couldn’t completely raise the shirt over his head without Archer’s help. In the moment of darkness, he felt a sharp nip of teeth against his skin, and then Silas’ hands dragging down his sides.

Archer discarded his shirt in a hurry and looked down to find Silas kneeling before him. Silas grinned, a mischievous spark in his tawny eyes, as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Archer’s hard, hot length, leaving a damp mark on the cloth.

Archer tensed in anticipation, waiting for Silas to strip him the rest of the way, to feel that hot mouth directly on him.

And he continued waiting as Silas shifted his focus to Archer’s boots, carefully and methodically untying one, guiding Archer’s foot out of it, and then the other.