Defiance Ch. 07

"You want me to stop, promise me you'll behave. If not I'll break your arm. It won't make you any less pretty for his highness and will likely make you a hell of a lot more pliable. Now, are you going to do as you're told?"

Tate sucked in all of his breath and tried to block away the pain. The sensible voice in his head was screaming at him but he couldn't help himself. Damned to the consequences he thought wildly. Locking eyes with his newest enemy his schooled his expression carefully. "Fuck you!" He hissed, combining all the anger and revulsion he could into two small words.

The tracker didn't smile at him when he broke Tate's arm. **************************************************************************** They were very old, older than man, older than the Fay that had combed the world long before history started. They were almost as ancient as the god's themselves. Huge and beautiful and free.

"We hear you little brother." They called to him, their great booming voice's resounding almost painfully through his mind. "We see you little brother."

He tried to close his mind to them. They were too much, too alien for his small human mind to comprehend, but they would not let him go. They reached out for him, screaming his name. They wanted him, they said they needed him.

But then the world called him home and he opened his eyes almost gladly. *********************************************** The dream faded as the day wore on. Pain and discomfort seemed to push aside anything else, even fear. The wrappings around his wrist and calf did little to soften the constant jarring of the horse's urgent trot. Tate lent his head against the wolf's back and tried not to concentrate on the glass that was continuously being forced into his bones. He almost hoped a fever would take him but the tracker had treated his wounds too well.

When they finally stopped Tate was very close to passing out. He had to be carried inside the wayward house. The innkeeper stayed away from the wolf, not bothering to ask what he was doing with a man dressed like a tinker. Tate suspected that had the wolf gutted him there and then the innkeeper would have shrugged it off. After all, what sort of self respecting man cared for the welfare of gypsies?

There was one condolence he supposed. Now that he was gone Lukas and his family would finally be safe. Tate didn't have to live with the constant fear and guilt anymore. It was better for everyone that he was gone. Better especially for Lukas who had claimed to love him. Tate could have laughed at the tinker's stupidity. How could he say he loved him, didn't he see what Tate was? Didn't he understand?

"You don't speak very much do you?" The wolf commented as he prepared himself for bed. Tate met his eyes briefly before looking away. "If not your tongue then what is it about you that has endeared our prince so?" he asked, only a little mockingly. "You've a fair face and form, I'll grant you that, but surely it isn't all? There must be more."

Lukas had thought so, but then Lukas was naive for all that he was so well travelled. No, there certainly wasn't anything special about Tate. Nothing that would have interested a sane man. But Christian was not sane, though it seemed to him that he must be the only person in the world to realise it.

"You're all the courters talk about." The tracker said, his eyes sparkling with mockery. "Some of them are swooning at the thought of you. They've made you out to be the most beautiful creature alive." His smile widened. "You'll not be shy of invitations once the prince has had his fill."

"What do you know of court?" Tate asked him, surprised at the sudden levity he could hear in his own tone. "I can hear it in your speech, though you try so hard to hide it. You've a crude and common mannerism about you that would be shunned at any mans court, especially the kings"

The smile slid of the wolfs face as he leaned forward in his chair. "I would be very careful if I was you half-blood."

"Or else you'll what?" Tate asked him, feigning curiosity. "You can't keep breaking things. The prince would protest I think." He sat up and met the other man's light eyes with unwavering contempt. "Act the pretender if you like but you're naught but a commoner and you and I both know it."

He didn't flinch away when the wolf reared up to his feet and drew back his fist. Tate silently urged him to strike out, to become so angry that he lost all control Do it, he thought, for god's sake just do it!. Their eyes locked and to his dismay he saw something change in the wolf expression. The tracker raised his eyebrows self mockingly and allowed his hands to drop listlessly as his sides. "You're a wily one boy." He said with grudging respect. "But I'll not take your life from you, no matter how angry you try to make me. You're for the prince and I intend to give you to him myself."

Tate smiled at him, though there wasn't a shred of humour in it. "Do as you will. I've found that among my father's people most men do as they please anyway."

"Are they not you're people too, oh most reverend bastard?"

Tate didn't even blink at the insult. He had heard it said far too many times in his life to still be so affected by it. He turned away and laid his head against the thin pillow on his bed. I have no people, he thought sorrowfully before sleep finally took him. No dreams visited him that night. *********************************************************** The soldiers moved on, heading north towards the high city. At a loss for anything else to do Lukas and Robert followed them. They spoke little, and only then to argue amongst themselves. There was no sign of Tate and as the days wore on Lukas began to give up hope that he might ever return to him. He learned from Robert that he had stupidly said Tate's name after the southern raiders had attacked their caravan and carried Tate off. Everything had been so muddled that he couldn't remember it well but he believed his brother and he cursed his own stupidity. Perhaps if Tate hadn't believed that Lukas had misplaced his hard won trust he might not have run away. But then the days dragged on and it suddenly seemed that his Shantran really hadn't cared for him all. Lukas should have known better. The northerners were raised from birth to hate tinkers. Just because Tate looked different didn't mean that his breeding had been affected by his foreign blood. He had used him and now Lukas's entire family would pay the price for it.

******************************************************************** Christian smiled lustfully at the decedent young man lying across the foot of his bed. The tumbler had caught his eye from the start and Christian was pleased when the young man was seemingly delighted by Christian's invitation. His sinewy and finely boned body was the sort Christian most coveted and he looked forward to letting lose some of the pent up energy he had been feeling of late.

Of course nothing would fill the void he so keenly felt. He wanted Tate, wanted him more with each passing day. The tumbler would suffice in the meanwhile but he would never be able to offer what Christian really wanted, what he needed.

The reports said that Tanis was on the half-blood's trail. Though he could be counted on for little Christian knew his younger brother was desperate to save his own miserable little life. He would do almost anything to fall back into the bleak animosity of his former life. If he succeeded in bringing Tate back the elder prince might even grant his brother's wish. Tanis was a craven sought after all, and easily controlled. Christians other younger brother was growing up to be far too out spoken for his own good. Why invite trouble?

"My prince?" The tumbler said shyly.

Christian blinked at him, having momentarily forgotten he was there. "What is your name?" He asked, smiling at the handsome young man.

"Adan, my prince."

His smile widened. Christian could be charming when he chose to be. He reached out and caught a lock of the tumbler's light golden hair. "What do you desire Adan?"

Bright blue eyes looked wantonly up at him. "You my lord," He said breathlessly, "I desire you."

Christian rolled atop the agile youth and slowly undressed him. He enjoyed the look of wonder in the young man's face. A part of him wondered if Tate would ever look at him in the same way. He stroked the tumbler's long, slender organ with one hand, enjoying the sensation of the other man's sure fingers as they untied his breeches.

He pulled the rest of his clothes off and sat back. The tumbler quickly knelt between his legs and set to work on Christian's dick. He worked the length of it with a soft and experienced tongue. Christian concentrated on him, trying not to imagine the man before him was the half-blood. He remembered the whore whose hair had been dyed brown for Christian's pleasure. He had hurt that poor unfortunate man quite badly. He couldn't help it, when he thought of Tate the longing came upon him full force. Surely he couldn't be blamed for that?

"My prince?" The tumbled squeaked, his panicky voice cutting through Christian's thoughts. "Please my lord, you're hurting me!" Christian blinked, surprised to see he had pinned the tumblers slender wrists above his head. He didn't think he was really hurting the tumbler but he could understand how one in his profession would be mindful of their hands and wrists. He loosened his hold but didn't let him go entirely.

"My apologies Adan." He said soothingly before he bent down and fastened his lips against the tumblers neck, sucking and licking the spot he knew to be most sensitive. The tumbler started moaning and panting. He made little keening noise that made Christian smile. Tate would never do this for me. He thought angrily. He would never allow himself the pleasure of being with me. The anger began to bubble to the surface again but with a mastery of will he pushed it aside. He would be a king one day, he's be damned if he couldn't contain a bit of self will. He lifted the tumblers leg's over his shoulder's and was suddenly dazzled by the other man's marvellous flexibility as he pulled his own legs further back behind his ears. Christian lathered him up with oil and thoroughly prepared him before he gently entered his tight hole.

The tumbler moved artfully, twisting himself into almost unnatural angles. He was a pleasure to have but to Christian's dismay he left the prince dissatisfied. He was not what Christian wanted, not what he needed. He sent him away when they had finished, thankful at least that the only mark he left on the other man was the light bite on his neck.

He lay back in his bed and closed his eyes. Soon, he thought, soon.