Llomerryn Nights (Chapter 2/3)
Chapter Two
He’d been on the run from very dangerous, very persistent people. He’d told Sebastian that much, which was more than he’d wanted to share already. What he hadn’t mentioned was that he’d wound up in Rivain, in Llomerryn, on the shore, with salt in his hair and lungs and sand crusted against his face.
He hadn’t mentioned that he’d almost died, and that he’d been saved by a stroke of good luck, and a girl with pretty golden eyes.
Isabela.
Her name was a sigh, still, in the back of his mind, or his heart, hidden secret behind his ribs. Fenris wanted to say it aloud, to tell Sebastian that the woman with the crooked smile and the callused palms and the gentle heart had been better to him than he had ever been to himself; but he couldn’t quite form the name on his tongue. Part of that was because he didn’t want Sebastian to become jealous of a memory; part of it was because he wanted to keep her name his secret. His memories with her belonged only to the two of them - he wasn’t sure if he had a right to involve someone else.
No, that was cowardly. Isabela was no secret for his heart to keep, and Sebastian would never be jealous of someone who had been so good to him.
Still, Fenris went through his story carefully.
***
They found him on the beach, his third night in hiding. He’d tried to run, but he hadn’t been fast enough. A bullet had torn through his back, and he’d fallen into the surf, his mouth filled with sand and sea water. Everything had been deep shades of grey edging towards black. The last thought he carried with him into that deepening darkness was, I’m dead.
But the darkness broke, slowly, painfully, with his will and the will of someone he couldn’t see. His eyes opened, cloudy and blurred, and he found himself in a room he’d never seen before. There was a woman sitting on the edge of his bed, a woman with her hair pulled back from her face and seashell earrings and freckled shoulders. A woman who turned when he made a noise, low and desperate at the bottom of his throat, and smiled.
A woman who had the smell of the sea on her skin when she leaned down and filled his senses.
“Shh, shh,” she hushed. “It’s all right, sweet thing. Don’t move.”
Fenris relaxed, as best he could, eased under the press of her palm against his forehead. He could smell the incense filling the room, a spicy smell that lingered beneath the ocean water. Everything about the room, about the woman, filled him with comfort. He laughed, and the woman laughed with him, soft and husky, a sound that could melt bone. Funny that he had never felt so calm, so at ease; and he had a bullet in his back.
She never asked who had been after him, or why. She only tended to him, with as much gentleness as she could. Fenris hardly remembered the time she spent with him, smoothing his hair from his forehead, pressing cool, wet cloth to his skin, changing his bandages, feeding him; doing everything short of breathing for him.
Whenever she moved to leave him, Fenris grabbed her wrist. He didn’t want to be without her. He didn’t want to return to that darkness, to that silence, to that deep, yawning emptiness.
She smiled. “It’s alright,” she told him.
He asked her name. His voice was rough and scratched his throat too dry and too sore. But he needed to know.
“Isabela,” she said, with her smile crooked and her golden eyes bright.
Isabela.
When he went into the darkness, he took her name with him.
***
The time he spent in Llomerryn was the only time in his life where he’d felt truly free. No one had been watching him, no one had been trying to control him; he had been pleasantly and wonderfully unattached; feeling what he felt when he felt it, with no one telling him that he was a fool, that he wasn’t allowed. He breathed in the sea air, felt the sun warm and heavy on his shoulders, let his toes curl into the sand.
Fenris kissed her mouth with abandon, drifted his fingers over her curves, kissed her shoulders and mapped her freckles with his tongue. Isabela took him into the surf, where he’d nearly died, where he’d let the darkness fold over him, and showed him that he was wholly, beautifully alive. That memory burned itself into his mind, even years later, when he sat with Sebastian in a quiet apartment in a quiet town.
The memory of Isabela on his hips, her hair tumbling over her shoulders, the sunlight behind her, framing her in gold and orange and fire.
The memory of her mouth on his throat and her breath hot and damp. And the memory of his body trembling beneath her when he told her he loved her.
But Llomerryn had been a long time before, and the girl who had saved him, who had made love to him in the sand and under the stars might no longer exist. Time did many things, not least of which was harden hearts and lay waste to innocence. He wished he could return to the shore, to the sand between his toes and the sea wind stirring his hair and the sun beating down on his shoulders, without carrying the weight of how things had ended with him.
Fenris wished the nights in Llomerryn had lasted forever.
***
Sebastian was quiet as Fenris told his story, but the air between them was never cold or resentful. He remained receptive and open, and when Fenris’ voice grew soft and his eyes turned down, Sebastian reached out and took his hand. His thumb stroked over his knuckles, and stayed there until Fenris finished.
The silence wasn’t heavy or oppressive, but it wasn’t the most comfortable silence they’d shared. He wished he would have chosen any other place for them to go, any place but Rivain, any place but the shores of Llomerryn. If he had pointed at Antiva, with its sun and heat and shops, he never would have had to tear his heart open and wait for his lover to either speak his acceptance, or tell him goodbye.
“I left that place behind a long time ago,” Fenris said. “I had to. There were… problems, and I didn’t feel like getting anyone involved in my mess. When I came here, I wanted a fresh start.”
“Who is after you?” Sebastian asked. He said nothing of Llomerryn, or Isabela, but he dug into a sensitive spot all the same. There was no apology in his eyes, and he didn’t flinch back from the question when Fenris fidgeted and tried to change the subject. He pressed in deeper. “Tell me who you’re running from,” Sebastian said. “How am I supposed to help you if you don’t trust me?”
“I trust you,” Fenris said, stubbornly, petulantly, more a child than a man. He heard the tone and winced, following the words with a sigh. “It’s no one,” he said, “Just… I used to do some unpleasant work before I came here. I was… kind of, involved with this group of people who weren’t too happy when I decided to leave. The guy who ran the show kind of... wants me dead.”
Sebastian let the information sit untouched between them for a while. Fenris waited for him to say he didn’t want to be involved with a man who carried so many secrets, who refused to open himself up and let someone get close to all of the hidden, complicated, painful parts of him. He waited for Sebastian to tell him he was finished, that nothing was worth the risk of loving him; instead, Sebastian sighed and kept stroking Fenris’ knuckles with his thumb. “Okay,” he said, when the silence went on too long and Fenris felt ready to scream just to break it. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay,” Sebastian repeated. “Did they find you before?”
His acceptance threw Fenris. He couldn’t shape his mouth around the words he wanted to say. Sebastian knew, though, his thumb kept easing over his knuckles, and his voice remained soft. “Fenris,” he said. “Did they find you before? Is that why you left?”
“No,” Fenris said. “They didn’t find me, I just… I didn’t want to hang around until they did. I didn’t want anyone to hurt her.”
Sebastian pulled his hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “That’s why I love you,” he said. “You can build as many walls as you want to, Fenris, but you have a good heart, and when you love someone, you’ll do anything for them.”
“I love you,” Fenris said. “Maybe you shouldn’t get so close to me.”
“Oh,” Sebastian murmured. He moved closer to Fenris, close enough to put his breath against his throat and his body between his knees. “I want to get a lot closer.”
Fenris nudged his nose against him. “You shouldn’t,” he whispered.
Sebastian took the last syllable into his mouth, and the breath that followed it.
He’d been on the run from very dangerous, very persistent people. He’d told Sebastian that much, which was more than he’d wanted to share already. What he hadn’t mentioned was that he’d wound up in Rivain, in Llomerryn, on the shore, with salt in his hair and lungs and sand crusted against his face.
He hadn’t mentioned that he’d almost died, and that he’d been saved by a stroke of good luck, and a girl with pretty golden eyes.
Isabela.
Her name was a sigh, still, in the back of his mind, or his heart, hidden secret behind his ribs. Fenris wanted to say it aloud, to tell Sebastian that the woman with the crooked smile and the callused palms and the gentle heart had been better to him than he had ever been to himself; but he couldn’t quite form the name on his tongue. Part of that was because he didn’t want Sebastian to become jealous of a memory; part of it was because he wanted to keep her name his secret. His memories with her belonged only to the two of them - he wasn’t sure if he had a right to involve someone else.
No, that was cowardly. Isabela was no secret for his heart to keep, and Sebastian would never be jealous of someone who had been so good to him.
Still, Fenris went through his story carefully.
***
They found him on the beach, his third night in hiding. He’d tried to run, but he hadn’t been fast enough. A bullet had torn through his back, and he’d fallen into the surf, his mouth filled with sand and sea water. Everything had been deep shades of grey edging towards black. The last thought he carried with him into that deepening darkness was, I’m dead.
But the darkness broke, slowly, painfully, with his will and the will of someone he couldn’t see. His eyes opened, cloudy and blurred, and he found himself in a room he’d never seen before. There was a woman sitting on the edge of his bed, a woman with her hair pulled back from her face and seashell earrings and freckled shoulders. A woman who turned when he made a noise, low and desperate at the bottom of his throat, and smiled.
A woman who had the smell of the sea on her skin when she leaned down and filled his senses.
“Shh, shh,” she hushed. “It’s all right, sweet thing. Don’t move.”
Fenris relaxed, as best he could, eased under the press of her palm against his forehead. He could smell the incense filling the room, a spicy smell that lingered beneath the ocean water. Everything about the room, about the woman, filled him with comfort. He laughed, and the woman laughed with him, soft and husky, a sound that could melt bone. Funny that he had never felt so calm, so at ease; and he had a bullet in his back.
She never asked who had been after him, or why. She only tended to him, with as much gentleness as she could. Fenris hardly remembered the time she spent with him, smoothing his hair from his forehead, pressing cool, wet cloth to his skin, changing his bandages, feeding him; doing everything short of breathing for him.
Whenever she moved to leave him, Fenris grabbed her wrist. He didn’t want to be without her. He didn’t want to return to that darkness, to that silence, to that deep, yawning emptiness.
She smiled. “It’s alright,” she told him.
He asked her name. His voice was rough and scratched his throat too dry and too sore. But he needed to know.
“Isabela,” she said, with her smile crooked and her golden eyes bright.
Isabela.
When he went into the darkness, he took her name with him.
***
The time he spent in Llomerryn was the only time in his life where he’d felt truly free. No one had been watching him, no one had been trying to control him; he had been pleasantly and wonderfully unattached; feeling what he felt when he felt it, with no one telling him that he was a fool, that he wasn’t allowed. He breathed in the sea air, felt the sun warm and heavy on his shoulders, let his toes curl into the sand.
Fenris kissed her mouth with abandon, drifted his fingers over her curves, kissed her shoulders and mapped her freckles with his tongue. Isabela took him into the surf, where he’d nearly died, where he’d let the darkness fold over him, and showed him that he was wholly, beautifully alive. That memory burned itself into his mind, even years later, when he sat with Sebastian in a quiet apartment in a quiet town.
The memory of Isabela on his hips, her hair tumbling over her shoulders, the sunlight behind her, framing her in gold and orange and fire.
The memory of her mouth on his throat and her breath hot and damp. And the memory of his body trembling beneath her when he told her he loved her.
But Llomerryn had been a long time before, and the girl who had saved him, who had made love to him in the sand and under the stars might no longer exist. Time did many things, not least of which was harden hearts and lay waste to innocence. He wished he could return to the shore, to the sand between his toes and the sea wind stirring his hair and the sun beating down on his shoulders, without carrying the weight of how things had ended with him.
Fenris wished the nights in Llomerryn had lasted forever.
***
Sebastian was quiet as Fenris told his story, but the air between them was never cold or resentful. He remained receptive and open, and when Fenris’ voice grew soft and his eyes turned down, Sebastian reached out and took his hand. His thumb stroked over his knuckles, and stayed there until Fenris finished.
The silence wasn’t heavy or oppressive, but it wasn’t the most comfortable silence they’d shared. He wished he would have chosen any other place for them to go, any place but Rivain, any place but the shores of Llomerryn. If he had pointed at Antiva, with its sun and heat and shops, he never would have had to tear his heart open and wait for his lover to either speak his acceptance, or tell him goodbye.
“I left that place behind a long time ago,” Fenris said. “I had to. There were… problems, and I didn’t feel like getting anyone involved in my mess. When I came here, I wanted a fresh start.”
“Who is after you?” Sebastian asked. He said nothing of Llomerryn, or Isabela, but he dug into a sensitive spot all the same. There was no apology in his eyes, and he didn’t flinch back from the question when Fenris fidgeted and tried to change the subject. He pressed in deeper. “Tell me who you’re running from,” Sebastian said. “How am I supposed to help you if you don’t trust me?”
“I trust you,” Fenris said, stubbornly, petulantly, more a child than a man. He heard the tone and winced, following the words with a sigh. “It’s no one,” he said, “Just… I used to do some unpleasant work before I came here. I was… kind of, involved with this group of people who weren’t too happy when I decided to leave. The guy who ran the show kind of... wants me dead.”
Sebastian let the information sit untouched between them for a while. Fenris waited for him to say he didn’t want to be involved with a man who carried so many secrets, who refused to open himself up and let someone get close to all of the hidden, complicated, painful parts of him. He waited for Sebastian to tell him he was finished, that nothing was worth the risk of loving him; instead, Sebastian sighed and kept stroking Fenris’ knuckles with his thumb. “Okay,” he said, when the silence went on too long and Fenris felt ready to scream just to break it. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay,” Sebastian repeated. “Did they find you before?”
His acceptance threw Fenris. He couldn’t shape his mouth around the words he wanted to say. Sebastian knew, though, his thumb kept easing over his knuckles, and his voice remained soft. “Fenris,” he said. “Did they find you before? Is that why you left?”
“No,” Fenris said. “They didn’t find me, I just… I didn’t want to hang around until they did. I didn’t want anyone to hurt her.”
Sebastian pulled his hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “That’s why I love you,” he said. “You can build as many walls as you want to, Fenris, but you have a good heart, and when you love someone, you’ll do anything for them.”
“I love you,” Fenris said. “Maybe you shouldn’t get so close to me.”
“Oh,” Sebastian murmured. He moved closer to Fenris, close enough to put his breath against his throat and his body between his knees. “I want to get a lot closer.”
Fenris nudged his nose against him. “You shouldn’t,” he whispered.
Sebastian took the last syllable into his mouth, and the breath that followed it.