It was not long later that the door opened. The instant it did, Meilyr rose, wanting nothing more than to go to Osian.
He stayed still as Osian moved to his desk. ‘Everything is prepared,’ the prince said. ‘I was able to accomplish what you hoped. As soon as it is time, we can begin.’
He was holding back, shutting himself behind those walls – the ones he thought Meilyr wanted. A mechanism to protect them both, except there was no protection from this.
Gods damn it.
Meilyr went to him, stepped close enough to make him look at him. ‘Come with us.’
Osian’s eyes widened. The walls began to crumble as he studied Meilyr’s face. ‘I cannot. My presence would endanger all of you.’
Meilyr touched his arm. ‘Come with us.’
‘Meilyr…’
Meilyr touched his lips with his fingertips, wanting to capture the sound of his name, to feel it for an instant longer. His words were barely more than escaped breath. ‘Come with me.’
With care and regret, Osian held and kissed his fingers. Kissed the small cuts that would one day scar, and down his palm to the base of his thumb, where their oath still burned.
Meilyr forgot how to breathe.
‘I cannot,’ Osian said. ‘Though you will be branded traitors, the hunt will not be unending. If I accompany you…’
Meilyr cupped his jaw with his free hand, drawing him to his gaze. ‘I do not care.’
Osian shook his head, other hand resting naturally on Meilyr’s waist. He was still part awe, part grief. ‘I do. I cannot risk you, I will not. Not for my life. Not for anything.’
‘Then I am staying.’
‘Meilyr.’
‘Come with me.’
‘Meilyr, you cannot—’
Meilyr pulled himself up against him and kissed him.
There was no hesitation this time. Osian wrapped his arms around him, fingers in his hair as they both went liquid and hungry into the kiss. A needing noise escaped Meilyr’s throat, and Osian chased it like a man drowning for air. Meilyr pushed him against the desk and pressed flush to him, wanting.
‘Come with me,’ he repeated into his mouth, opening his own split lip and not giving the prince a chance to reply.
Osian groaned in frustration, and Meilyr wanted toeatthe sound.
In a rush, Osian grasped him and turned them, gripped his hips and lifted him easily onto the desk. The prince pressed himself between Meilyr’s knees as Meilyr opened them to pull him close. The angle, the contact, shot stars through Meilyr’s vision. Another desperate noise loosed into Osian’s mouth as he wrapped his legs around him.
The friction was dizzying. Maddening. Osian’s hand low on his back, holding him right where he wanted him, still not close enough.
‘Meilyr…’ Osian kissed the side of his mouth, his jaw, his throat. ‘Meilyr…’
Meilyr clung to him, dug his fingers into his soft hair. ‘Come with me.’ It was desperate, breathless. ‘Come with me.’
Something shifted. Osian stilled.
Meilyr let out an unsteady breath. He felt it too, the pain in the desire, as Osian sank his head to his shoulder. Meilyr wrapped his arms around him and pressed their temples together, a pained embrace Osian returned.
Thishurt. It hurt so much he thought his chest might buckle.
‘Come with me,’ he whispered, one final time.