Beneath the Greying Cliffs

Part 4

Caled would have thought it inconceivable that a person could survive nearly a fortnight without initiating any conversation whatsoever. Yet Hadrian did it. Eyes to the trees, the dark-haired sorcerer sat atop his horse at the back of their group and answered questions to him as curtly as possible, but offered nothing in return.

In his gut, Caled knew it was because they were nearing Hadrian's former home. The destination obviously disturbed Hadrian. Caled suspected it had much to do with Syellen's story, but he wanted to hear the reasons directly from the sorcerer himself. Unfortunately, Caled's attempts to solicit information from him were met with a stony gaze and tight lips. Hadrian was determined to give nothing away.

It was irritating, for it left Caled without a source of amusement. Baiting Hadrian was only fun when the younger man responded. Faced with that impenetrable silence, Caled had tried to hold conversation with Syellen and found himself reminded of why he normally avoided speaking to the apprentice. She wouldn't shut up.

"You know the Greying Cliffs used to be a solid wall of stone at one time," she said, speaking to no one in particular, but knowing someone would have to listen to her. She had been doing this for nearly four hours now. "I saw early sketches of them. They looked nothing like they do now."

Hating that he would have to ask a question and encourage more from her, Caled nonetheless did. "And what do they look like now?"

Syellen waved her hands animatedly, encouraged by Caled's apparent interest. "They're really quite fascinating. The eroding waves have carved out practically an entire city of caverns. It's all open to the sea, looking out upon Shard's Point. And it's very well protected. You can only access the caverns by the water. There is no way down from the top of the cliffs."

"Then how do the Dimorada refresh their supplies?"

Syellen shrugged, unconcerned with the details. "Probably by boat."

Caled snorted, swatting away a fly that buzzed by his head. "Sounds impractical to me. They'd have to take a boat up the coast until they came to a beach with access to the mainland. From what I've heard, the cliffs extend around the entire northern point of Beyfan. A bit too much work, if you ask me."

Syellen rolled her eyes. "What do you know about what the Dimorada would or wouldn't do? They're insane. Who says they have to be practical?"

"They are not insane," Manix corrected, drawing a sharp, if brief, look from Hadrian. The Elder mage inclined his head at his apprentice. "You are correct in thinking that they are not motivated by anything that makes sense to us, but that doesn't mean that they are witless. The Dimorada have existed beneath the Greying Cliffs since the founding of the Order. No one has bothered them, and likely no one ever will. Considering their peculiar interests, I'd say that indicates a level of some coherency."

"Their peculiar interests," Caled repeated. "What does that mean?"

Syellen threw a look at Hadrian, who had fallen to the back again. "It means they've lost all perspective on what is right in the world. They aren't interested in committing to the art of learning magecraft. They seek the easy way to magick: through the Order of the White Shard. And worse than that, they worship it as a form of religion. It's blasphemy," she sniffed.

Caled's eyes flicked to the sorcerer. Hadrian was looking away, his interest seemingly caught by nesting birds, but the mercenary noticed the slight tightening of the younger man's jaw. Caled smirked, wondering how much more of Syellen it would take before Hadrian broke his silence.

"Why do you consider that curious?" Caled asked the apprentice, deliberately stirring the pot.

Syellen looked at him as if he'd gone mad. "No one in their right mind would willingly join the Order. The Order uses magick the way it was never meant to be used. They take from Life without asking. They care for nothing of balance or constraint. For them, it is all about power. It is about controlling Life to do their own selfish bidding, regardless of the effects upon the land."

From the corner of Caled's eye he saw Hadrian shift in his saddle.

"Magecraft is a studied art, learned for many years as I am doing. The power that the Order uses is drawn straight from the source and is uncontrolled. It's like comparing the stroke of a quill with a splash of ink. How can you control where the ink spills, what it touches? That is what the Order does. It uses without considering the consequences."

"And the Dimorada?" Caled prompted.

A haughty toss of red hair was his response. "Too lazy to study properly, and yet without the natural ability to magick as is required by the Order. So they live in the cliffs like strange creatures and pine after what they cannot have."

"She mentions natural ability," Caled began, turning to Manix. "Do mages possess such?"

For the first time, Manix looked slightly uncomfortable. "Becoming a mage has nothing to do with whether you are able to magick naturally," he said carefully. "Innate ability is not necessary to become an apprentice. All that is required is a genuine interest to learn and to follow the strictures of formula. Anyone, even you, Caled, could be become a mage if you were so inclined."

"But what you're saying is that not all mages can do what Hades and his father can."

Manix looked suddenly tired. "Gavedon's power is--rare. I have not read in the histories of Juxtan of anyone as strong in magick as he is." A small line appeared between his brows as his gaze slid to Hadrian.

"Except Hades," Caled prodded.

Manix's eyes drilled into him. "I did not say that. Hadrian is young and Gavedon is experienced. It was Gavedon who first discovered that he could tap directly into the energy of Life. That knowledge makes him excessively powerful. How many of his secrets and how much of his ability he has passed on to his son is yet to be seen."

Caled smirked. Fine, Manix didn't say it, but the implication was there. Hadrian was as dangerous as his father. It explained why Hadrian was with them. Power to counteract power.

Feeling reckless, he said, "Never mind being as powerful as his father. Are you saying that Hadrian, with his natural ability, is stronger than you are?"

Syellen gasped, her eyes flying to her master's face. "That is not possible," she protested, turning to glare at Caled in reproach. "Manix is an Elder. He has been alive four times longer than Hadrian. His experience is unmatched."

Caled grinned, leaning forward on the pommel of his horse. "Yes, Sy, I understand that. What I'm asking is if Manix and Hades were to clash in magickal battle, who would emerge victorious?"

Syellen's brown eyes burned with outrage. "Who do you--"

"Manix would."

The three of them turned to look back at Hadrian, who returned their stares flatly. "Manix would win because I cannot use my power to magick anymore."

It had taken longer for Hadrian to respond than Caled expected, but he was delighted nonetheless. "Cannot, or will not? Trying to pretend that you no longer present a threat to mankind?"

Hadrian's eyes flashed, but his voice was even. "I cannot magick."

"How do you think the Dimorada will react to that bit of news?" Syellen asked sharply. "They worship you because of your power. If you cannot -- "

"They will not find out," Hadrian replied simply. "I can keep that fact hidden for the time that we need to question them."

Caled turned in his saddle, his lips twisting. He didn't believe Hadrian could no longer magick. It sounded like a ploy for sympathy or absolution. How could you lose power if, as Manix had said, you possessed it naturally?

"So if I tried to carve your heart out right now, you'd simply let me?" he asked, arching a brow. "Not even a twitch of power?"

The grey eyes were unwavering. "I would do everything possible before I would resort to that."

Caled grinned. "Ah, so you admit it. You can magick. You merely choose not to."

Hadrian said nothing. It was confirmation enough.

"That's what I thought." Pleased that he had undermined Hadrian's attempt to claim himself harmless, Caled decided to change the subject. "How about some truth for once, Hades? What is your connection to the Dimorada? Why does Sy say that they worship you?"

Hadrian's answer came slowly, reluctantly. "It is Gavedon they worship. He's the beginning of it all. When he returned from Fieran's Peak and began recruiting, many people came to Shard's Point, hoping to join the Order. But he forbade anyone from joining who did not possess magickal ability." He frowned. "Not everyone he rejected took it kindly. Some of them moved beneath the Greying Cliffs and called themselves the Dimorada, which means "forsaken" in the ancient tongue. They began to worship the Order there. Gavedon could do no wrong in their eyes."

"And by extension, neither could you," Caled added.

He heard Hadrian sigh. "I could not prevent their -- fascination -- from carrying over to me, as well. I never encouraged it. Their interest was uncomfortable. I tried to limit my contact with them as much as possible."

"I feel a fool," Caled began in a mocking tone. "If I had known when we first met that you're an object of worship, I would have done things differently to keep you from returning to your father." He leered at the younger man. "Maybe all of this could have been avoided if only I'd worshipped you a little more intently, eh? Maybe if I'd better appreciated the virgin sacrifice?"

Syellen sputtered, her eyes wide. Manix frowned disapprovingly. Caled ignored them both. His eyes were for Hadrian, whose cheeks were red and whose grey gaze had turned into chips of ice.

"Everything is a jest to you," the sorcerer said icily.

Caled's eyes narrowed. "No, I find humor in very little these days, Hades. What entertainment I may find must come at your expense. Surely, you understand."

The sorcerer's gaze slid away, losing itself in the trees. Caled knew Hadrian wouldn't willingly speak the rest of the day. It didn't matter. He had gotten Hadrian to respond to him today and that was enough. One day at a time, Caled intended to pick at the sorcerer until a final confrontation became inevitable. It was a moment Caled looked forward to with all of his being.

~~~~~

Hadrian could barely force himself to eat. He recognized this part of the forest where they had stopped for the night. The Greying Cliffs were only another day out. It meant that Shard's Point lay just beyond.

Home. Maybe once he had called it that because he had no other name for it. But the castle where he had been raised did not inspire feelings of nostalgia or longing. On the contrary, when Hadrian thought of Shard's Point, he pictured the castle in ruins as he'd left it. It was a fitting memory, for it symbolized all that he had come to believe about the world. Thanks to that fateful day, he now knew that the things he had considered solid and permanent could be broken. That the things that had provided him security could be breached.

But they were not going to Shard's Point. They were going to see the Dimorada, whose strangeness left him equally uncomfortable. He had grown up unused to attention. Within the Order, he had simply been another member, not favored because he was the leader's son. If anything, he had been punished for that fact, being made to stand as example. So he had learned to become unobtrusive, to become like the stone walls so he could melt into them.

The Dimorada treated him vastly differently. In their twisted way, they loved him.

He tossed the remains of his meal into the fire, ignoring Manix's watchful eyes. Syellen sat beside the mage, her eyes drooping with weariness. She would be asleep within the hour. Hadrian envied her.

"I'll take first watch," Caled announced as he stood. Hadrian studied him from beneath his lashes. The wavering light of their fire made Caled's golden hair glow around his face. With his solid body outlined by flame, he looked powerful and confident. Hadrian was suddenly grateful for the man's presence. He wished he could say it.

Instead, he said, "I'll take the second."

Caled didn't bother to acknowledge his words, simply spun on his heel and strode into the forest. Hadrian sighed and stared into the dwindling fire. Across from him, Manix settled upon the ground, Syellen stretched beside him. Hadrian could feel the mage's eyes upon him, wondering at his thoughts. He refused to look up. When he finally raised his eyes sometime later, the older man was asleep.

Hadrian looked to the forest. Occasionally, he heard the solid thunk that told him Caled was practicing with his knives. Hadrian caressed the hilt of his own dagger, debating. As much as the Dimorada was obsessed with him, he knew he would not hold the same allure for them if they learned he could no longer magick. The situation could become unpredictable.

He checked on his two companions again and, satisfied that they were sleeping, slipped quietly into the forest. He had to pause in the darkness once or twice, waiting for the dull sound of another knife strike to guide him, before he eventually found the blond mercenary. Caled was in the process of jerking his imbedded dagger from a tree when Hadrian entered his sight. The mercenary stilled, one hand on the knife, the other braced against the bark.

"What do you want?" Caled's voice was a low rumble. His eyes glittered in the dim light. "Have you come to stare, or are you actually going to speak?"

"I want you to teach me how to use the dagger," Hadrian said, stepping closer. He fingered the weapon at his waist. "I know you don't care whether or not I can protect myself, but if I can use this properly, I may be of some use should we ever encounter fighting."

Even shadowed by the moon at his back, Caled's smirk was visible. "You're right that I don't care about your safety. However, I do care whether or not you get killed." Derision momentarily darkened his features. "Manix has bound my life to yours, after all. That, dear Hades, is the only reason you're still alive."

A brief sadness washed over Hadrian. So that was it. Forcing down his disappointment, Hadrian said, "Then that should give you all the reason to want to teach me. It's in your own interest."

"So it is," Caled murmured, pulling the knife free. He secured it at his hip. "Come along then, Hades. Let's get started. From what I've seen so far of your skills, this will take some time."

Swallowing a retort, Hadrian stopped in front of the other man and waited. Odd, how in the darkness, without the others around, he became so in tune with Caled. He could hear the man's breathing, could practically sense his heart beating. He felt Caled's eyes on him, assessing his fitness. Although it was an impersonal look, it felt intimate nonetheless.

"I want you to take your knife out and try to stab me with it," Caled told him.

Hadrian nodded and pulled his weapon. He paused a moment to make sure the other man was ready.

"Come on, Hades," the mercenary taunted, looking relaxed. "You won't even get close to me."

Frowning slightly, Hadrian feinted to the left as he'd seen Caled do and brought his blade up in a swing intended to gut the other man. Caled easily blocked the blow and caught Hadrian's arm, bending his wrist backwards until Hadrian dropped the knife in pain.

"Gods, it's a wonder you're not dead already," Caled muttered, releasing him. "You left your entire body open to me. If I'd wanted, I could have slit you in two."

Hadrian picked up his knife and rubbed his wrist. "You don't need to tell me that I am unskilled. Just show me how to be better."

Smiling at the sorcerer's irritation, Caled drew his own dagger. "First of all, don't lose your temper. It makes you vulnerable. When you fight because you're angry, you become reckless. Secondly, you're not wielding a sword. You shouldn't be swinging your arm. When you fight with a dagger, it's because you're in close to someone. That means small movements, mostly with your wrist. Here, try to stop me."

Hadrian instinctively brought his dagger up as Caled came at him. But whatever weak attempt at defense he'd intended was swiftly knocked aside by the mercenary's free hand. In the space of one heartbeat to the next, Hadrian found the tip of Caled's knife pricking the underside of his chin.

"You see?" Caled said softly. He was so near that Hadrian could see the inky darkness of his pupils, eclipsing the blue irises. The sharp point of the dagger nudged Hadrian's chin, forcing him to lift his face. "I slipped right in. Who would have thought it'd be so easy?"

Bastard, Hadrian thought. But he kept it to himself, knowing he needed Caled's expertise no matter the threat to his pride. "Show me how to do that," he said, speaking slowly with the knife still against his jaw. "The real test of your skill will be in how well you can teach me to do that."

Caled laughed quietly and stepped back. "All right, then. You saw how I came at you. Now you do the same to me. Remember to keep your knife arm in close to your body. And don't," he added with a smug grin, "concern yourself that you might actually cut me. Don't hold back."

In the face of that conceit, Hadrian wasn't about to. Recalling the in-and-out move Caled had used, Hadrian took a breath and darted forward, arm tucked in as he'd been instructed. He had a moment's satisfaction of seeing his dagger come within an arm's length of Caled's throat before he found himself inexplicably sprawled across the leaves, the painful imprint of Caled's boot throbbing in his backside.

"That was better," Caled said, making no attempt to control his amusement. "At least your arm wasn't flapping around like a bird's. There may be a chance for you yet, Hades."

Hadrian vowed he would get this right if only for a chance to carve Caled's tongue out. "If you call me that one more time --"

"You'll what?" the mercenary said, eyebrow raised. "Stab me?" He laughed. "Try it again, Hades. See if you can get close enough to actually see my face this time."

Clenching his jaw, Hadrian surged from the ground, trying a different tactic. He came in low, hoping to slip beneath the other man's defense. The point of his knife grazed the center of Caled's tunic before a kick to the ribs sent him tumbling to the ground.

Hadrian rested a moment in the leaves, rubbing at his side. The kick had hurt.

"Get up," Caled said quietly from behind him. "That was better, but you're aiming for the wrong place."

Pained, he slowly regained his feet. Caled immediately stepped up to him and drew his dagger along Hadrian's ribs. The sorcerer froze. "This is one of the worst places you could stab a man," Caled told him. He tapped the flat of the blade against Hadrian's chest. "Your blade could strike a bone and lodge there. You don't have time to deal with that. Your opponent could slit your throat in the meantime. Instead, aim underneath." Caled dropped his weapon hand, dragging the dagger across Hadrian's stomach. The tug of the knife's tip against the fabric was oddly sensual. "You can gut someone," Caled continued, eyes fastened on his knife as it traced a path over Hadrian's stomach, "or you can stab up beneath the ribs from here and hit the heart."

"Where do you like to strike?"

Caled raised his eyes, his lips curling. "Hmm? Oh, wherever I find a weakness." His expression indicated that he'd found Hadrian's. "I usually go for the throat. Even a shallow cut there is enough to stop a man from fighting. That's why it's my favorite area to attack." His voice became huskier. "It's a vulnerable area. But then, you already know that, don't you, Hades?"

Caled's game again. And this time, Hadrian knew it was a game because of what Caled had revealed about their life bond.

"Want me to show you how to bring a man to his knees?" Caled continued, his eyes glinting. "As I remember, it worked rather well on you."

"You'll never touch me like that again," Hadrian said in a voice tinged with frost. "Not while I have the strength to wield this dagger."

He knew instantly it was a mistake. Caled might have only been teasing him, but now that the challenge had been made, Hadrian saw that the mercenary couldn't resist accepting it. Caled tucked his own dagger away and took a step back.

"Then let's see how long that lasts, shall we?" he purred. "Try to draw my blood, Hades. I know you want to. This is your next lesson: Why you shouldn't let your emotions get the better of you."

It should have been something Hadrian could laugh at. He'd grown up a master of his emotions, learning to hide anything that might be used against him by his father or the Order. With any other person, Hadrian found it easy to slip into the chill sanctuary of apathy. But with Caled...He took a steadying breath. "I hope I make you regret this," he said, even as he launched himself forward.

Caled wasn't a man easily caught off-guard. He saw the telltale narrowing of Hadrian's eyes a moment before the younger man dove at him. It gave him the time to twist his body to the side, shoving the sorcerer past with an added punch to the kidneys. Hadrian stumbled to a halt, wincing as he held a hand to his back. Caled held his hands out and shrugged. "Too easy."

Hadrian, ever predictable, glowered and began to circle him.

"You're not learning this lesson very well," Caled commented, amused. "Either I'm a poor teacher, or you're a stubborn pupil. Where's that frigid maiden I've grown accustomed to?"

Hadrian clenched his jaw, apparently deciding not to rise to the bait.

"Ah, yes. Much better, love. You're learning some control." Caled turned in a tight circle, keeping Hadrian in front of him. "You actually should be fairly good at this, Hades. Self-restraint is one of your strengths. You hold yourself tighter than a cleric's daughter. At least, that's what I remember of you back in that loft." He deliberately let his voice becoming leering. "You were so afraid of giving in to me. Do you remember? It made your surrender all the more sweeter."

Hadrian was faster this time, and Caled had to give him credit for being a quick study. Anticipating a wide strike like the one Hadrian had made before, Caled was caught unprepared for the blade that slithered beneath his arm and sliced across his covered collarbone. The fabric of his tunic peeled back beneath the blade. Caled hissed as he felt the cold sting of metal against his skin.

Reacting without thinking, he seized the passing wrist and jerked on it. Hadrian stumbled straight into Caled's upraised forearm. The sorcerer's head slammed back, a gasp of pain slipping from his mouth. Angry that he'd allowed Hadrian to cut him, Caled kicked the other man's feet out from under him and shoved him to the ground.

Dropping atop the slighter man, Caled slammed Hadrian's wrist against the ground, trying to get him to loosen his grip on the dagger. Eventually, the gloved hand fell open, the dagger spilling into the thickly layered leaves.

Hadrian began to laugh breathlessly. "What happened to your lesson?" the sorcerer asked, a thin smile on his face despite the swelling bruise above his eyebrow. "I think you've let your emotions get the better of you. I managed to draw your blood."

"And who's to stop me from drawing yours?" Caled said smoothly.

Hadrian's laughter faded, his expression sobering. "You won't. You're bound to me."

Black anger swirled in front of Caled's vision. Bound. Surely the cruelest punishment Manix could have inflicted upon him. Helpless in the face of that geas, Caled cursed in disgust. He shifted with the intention of rolling off of Hadrian, but the younger man's sudden intake of breath made him pause.

Caled looked down. To his surprise, he found something in the grey eyes he hadn't expected to see. He smiled down at the sorcerer with the easy confidence of a predator.

Reading his expression, Hadrian tried to buck him off. Caled caught the flailing arms that tried to strike him and pinned both wrists above Hadrian's head. He used his larger weight to smother the body beneath him.

"What's this, Hades? Don't tell me you enjoy having me atop you? Even after Annick, you haven't learned?"

Hadrian said nothing, his mouth drawn into a tight line.

Experimentally, Caled rolled his hips. Hadrian shut his eyes, his lips turning white as he clenched his jaw. Caled smiled darkly. He felt himself grow hard. He knew Hadrian could feel it by the sorcerer's quickening breath. Caled shifted, bringing their hips into alignment. An answering bulge pressed against him.

Hadrian's eyes gleamed with anger. Caled chuckled down at him. "Would you like me to teach you another lesson?"

Hadrian strained against him. "You hate me, remember?"

"Mmm," Caled breathed, ducking his head to rub his nose in the silky tendrils of the sorcerer's dark hair. When Hadrian turned his face away, Caled pressed his open mouth against the exposed neck. "Hating you doesn't mean I can't take my enjoyment of your body," he murmured, blowing hot air against the pale skin. "You've got a lovely body, Hades."

He rolled his hips again, pressing their erections together. Hadrian tried to stifle a low moan. Caled smiled against the curve of his jaw. "You like this. Don't hide it. I can feel you." He pumped again to emphasize the point. This time, the sorcerer couldn't control the soft sound that left him. "But you hate me," Hadrian whispered weakly.

A pinprick of sadness pierced Caled's consciousness. Yes, he did hate Hadrian. He hated him with a passion because he knew that in another life, if things had fallen differently, he could have loved Hadrian.

It was a sour, bitter realization that left Caled feeling lonely for a reason he did not want to name. He chided himself for mourning what could have been. The chance had been lost. What's done was done. As much as he might secretly wish it, all the regret in the world could not change their painful past.

He pulled a delicate earlobe between his lips, lightly sucking on it. He could feel his body beginning that delicious climb to full arousal and it felt good. Hadrian felt good. Caled's body remembered the feel of him despite the time that had passed since Rhiad. His body wanted more.

But this was his enemy now. He forced a knee between Hadrian's legs and opened them to settle himself between. He wasn't doing this out of love, Caled told himself as he began to pump rhythmically into the cradle of the other man's hips. This was revenge. The kisses he feathered across Hadrian's heated cheek weren't meant to pleasure, only to torture. He would bring Hadrian to the heights of ecstasy and leave him unappeased. It was a cruel, small vengeance he never would have considered doing before. But things had changed.

How very far we have fallen.

He would prove his control to Hadrian. Prove that whatever had passed between them had burned up in the fires of Rhiad. Caled would prove that he no longer possessed compassion or forgiveness. He would prove that there never had been, and never would be, anything between them.

When Hadrian trembled at the feel of Caled's tongue sliding up the curve of his ear, Caled did it again, mercilessly licking until the sorcerer twisted beneath him. And when the legs on either side of his hips fell open just a little more, Caled pushed himself harder against Hadrian's swollen flesh to make him moan.

Hadrian's face was strained with the effort of resistance. Caled found himself unable to look away. The words fell from his lips before he could stop them. "Look at all that you threw away."

Grey eyes snapped open, dark with confusion and desire. "You regret," Hadrian whispered, his eyes intent on Caled. "It -- it doesn't have to be this way, you know. If we want to, we can change it."

Caled hated the swift flash of hope those words raised in him. He couldn't afford to forgive Hadrian. He feared that if he did, he might lose the focus that had kept him sane since Rhiad.

Instead of replying to the words, he let his body give the answer. He transferred both of Hadrian's wrists to one grip and slid his free hand between them. He wrapped his fingers around the evidence of Hadrian's passion and slowly, methodically, began to stroke him.

"No..." Hadrian's brows crossed before his grey gaze disappeared behind tightly clenched eyelids. But Caled gave the younger man nowhere to go.

"Do you honestly think I would want this again?" he rasped into the other's ear. He squeezed, drawing a desperate moan from Hadrian. "Do you think I would want to be with you after what you did? To sleep with a murderer?" He tried to laugh, but the sound was broken. "I think not. I'll use your body, Hades, but I want nothing of you." His own words shocked him. He had rarely been so deliberately cold. It was only the grim shadow of sadness at the back of his mind that kept him from taking the words back.

"S-stop this," Hadrian gasped, shuddering as Caled bit at his neck. "If you don't want me -- Why are you doing this?"

Caled sealed his lips over a patch of milky skin and sucked. Hadrian shuddered when Caled raised his head to study the rosy bruise. "Another lesson, Hades. It's called taking advantage of your opponent's weakness." He grinned, but his eyes were dead. "This is yours."

His eyes fell to the fisted hands he held above Hadrian's head. "Those infernal gloves," he muttered, sliding his hand from between them. He took the sorcerer's wrists in each hand again, pulling one of them up from the ground. "Why do you always wear them? I never see you take them off save to bathe."

"I can't." Some of the haze cleared from Hadrian's face, his eyes starting to focus. "I can't take them off."

Annoyed that Hadrian was beginning to regain his wits, Caled brought the gloved hand to his mouth. "Well, you're going to. After all this time, your hands must be very sensitive. Maybe too sensitive, eh?" He grinned and closed his teeth over the tip of one of the gloved fingers. Hadrian tried to make a fist when he realized what Caled was about to do, but the mercenary simply applied pressure to his wrist, making the younger man flex his hand in pain. With a strong tug, Caled pulled the leather casing off the pale hand and dropped it to the leaves.

He watched the slender fingers twitch at the feel of the cool air. Caled smiled. Very sensitive. Keeping his eyes on Hadrian's, he brought a digit to his mouth and drew it between his lips. Hadrian's eyes widened. A soft, surprised moan came from his throat. "Oh, gods..."

Caled slid his tongue down the length of Hadrian's finger, tasting leather and salt. He licked it slowly, swirling his tongue around it. He felt Hadrian's cock swell against him and a grim satisfaction arose in Caled. He tightened his lips and began to slide his mouth up and down. He pushed his hips against Hadrian in time, so that to the sorcerer's dazed senses, it would feel like he was being penetrated by Caled and consumed by him at the same time. It was a rhythm meant to unravel Hadrian and when his dark head fell back against the leaves, his red mouth open like a stain, Caled knew he had succeeded.

He pulled the finger from his mouth and returned Hadrian's hand to the earth, wanting to take advantage of the parted lips. Hadrian met his tongue passionately at first, his hunger taking Caled by surprise. Caled groaned and deepened the kiss. He ground himself harder against the younger man, taking some of his own pleasure from the heated body.

But something changed. Caled noticed it at first as an odd thickness in the air. He assumed that he was imagining it. But the sensation grew, the air becoming heavy and taking on the strange electric quality before a lightning storm.

Hadrian began to fight him.

It wasn't the same resistance he had made before. This was a panicked reaction. When Caled failed to distract him by kissing him, the mercenary was forced to raise his head or risk being bitten. Hadrian's eyes were wild, the whites bright in the darkness.

"Let go of me!" he cried, thrashing beneath Caled's weight. The arm connected to the sorcerer's bare hand twisted until Caled thought Hadrian might dislocate his own shoulder. "Let go of my hand!"

The sensual spell Caled had woven was lost, he could see that. Something was wrong with Hadrian. Warily, he rolled off of the sorcerer. Hadrian immediately shot to his feet, clutching his bare hand to his chest. He looked around him at the forest, not even seeing Caled, and made an odd, keening sound. He took off at a run toward their camp.

Caled dropped back onto the leaves with a groan. He body ached. His plan to teach Hadrian a lesson had had mixed results. Yes, he'd shown the younger man that Caled had power over his responses. But Caled had also given himself away. Without even trying, Hadrian still had the ability to undo him.

Disgruntled, he climbed to his feet and made his way back to camp. What he found surprised him. He watched as Manix led Hadrian into the darkness of the trees. The younger sorcerer was tucked within the mage's arms in a display of intimacy Caled had never seen Hadrian willingly allow before. Frowning, Caled dropped onto his bedroll. He closed his eyes, but he did not sleep.

It was a long time before the two men returned. Caled watched from beneath slitted lids as Hadrian, fully gloved, crawled beneath his blanket. The mercenary didn't get a chance to see the sorcerer's face, but he could see Manix's where the mage stood to assume his watch. The older man's expression was grim, his black eyes locked on Caled, unfathomable.