Sky and Storm ( Warriors of Vis #1)(15)
Once the large, marble tub was ready for him, he let his body sink into the scented heat and closed his eyes. Eagle’s tall, powerful frame danced before Sky’s eyes. He was a few years younger than Sky, but he was the definition of beautiful. Despite his bitterness, Sky could admit it. Eagle was masculine perfection, only surpassed by Storm himself. No wonder his husband had chosen him as his lover.
Sky’s earlier outburst was rewarded with a sleepless night. Storm never came to their bed chamber and images of him making love to Eagle were running wild in Sky’s head. He gave up trying to sleep and went to sit on the wide window sill, looking out through the panes and waiting for the sunrise.
***
Shouts from the yard jolted Sky awake. He must have dozed off where he was, and he moaned loudly at the stiffness in his muscles and bones. He looked outside to see riders rushing into the yard, dragging bruised and battered prisoners with them. It was really none of his business, but Sky felt he should go outside. He threw some trousers on, pulled on his knee-high black boots and slid into a white shirt as he was running down the stairs.
When Sky got there, Storm was already outside, his sword drawn out. He was pacing as his elite pushed five of the prisoners forward, making them kneel. Storm turned and gave Sky a wickedly challenging smile, then turned to face the men. The glitter of his sword caught Sky’s eye. Storm had never named his sword, but it had been called many things. Hell’s Minion, Princess of Death, Hellbringer. It had no gems adorning it, no intricate design on a golden handle. It was sharp and heavy and seemed to have grown out of Storm’s hand.
Sky walked around the party, something pushing him to a place where he could see his husband’s face. Storm’s cruel sneer made his heart skip. Storm was speaking, but making out the words was suddenly very difficult.
Sky realized these were the leaders of the rebels who had attacked Eagle. When he was done yelling, Storm placed the blade of his sword under the chin of the first leader, holding his head up by his hair. With a swift, graceful move, he pulled the blade to his right. The slide of the steel opened the man’s throat, blood spraying and gushing out, staining Storm’s face and clothes. With calculated precision, Storm moved to the second one, and kept going till they were nothing more than a pile of bleeding corpses.
Storm grinned through it all. A cold, frightening smirk that did not reach his eyes. There was nothing but anger there. Sky should have been terrified by his husband’s cruelty. Yet he realized he was nothing but envious. Sky’s eyes bulged out as it sunk in: he would have given anything for Storm to love him as much. He wanted what Eagle had, a love so deep, so pure, that killing whoever had hurt him gave Storm such pleasure.
Storm turned to him and locked gazes with Sky. He snarled and dropped his sword, then jumped over his fresh kill and walked towards Sky. Storm grabbed Sky’s shirt and Sky watched as the blood on his husband’s hands stained the white cotton. He looked up at Storm and all Sky saw in his eyes was pure hell.
“This is me, Sky. I kill and I love it when I take revenge. This is the monster you so feared.”
Sky smiled, feeling the tears sliding down his face. In that moment in time, everything hurt too much. Storm was beautiful, always. When he fought, when he killed, when he fucked, when he was angry, when he was tender. Storm was perfect. He was everything Sky wanted. Yet he belonged to someone else. He closed his eyes, faintly feeling Storm’s grip tightening, the seam of his stained shirt choking him. Sky wanted to collect his thoughts, but darkness took over and Sky went with it, seeking comfort in its embrace.
CHAPTER VII
The Bitter End
STORM WAS CHOKING SKY, he realized with a startle as he saw his husband’s eyes fluttering shut, tears washing his face. With a loud gasp, Storm released him and stepped back, roughly brushing his hair out of his face. A warning shout reached his foggy mind, and his eyes snapped to Sky. It was too late, Sky was falling. Sky’s body hit the ground with a loud thud, and the rushing soldiers were too late to stop him from hitting his head. Sky had fallen over rough ground and grass, not the cold stones, but he wasn’t opening his eyes.
“Get the healer,” Storm yelled as he scooped Sky up and took him to their chambers. Storm rushed him through the long corridors and placed him on their bed. A tear falling on Sky’s face made Storm realize he was crying. He wiped his eyes and stood back, waiting for the healer to come. The old man who had been taking care of his family for as long as he could remember rushed in and pushed Storm aside.
Storm watched as the healer examined his husband, waiting for the verdict. It was taking too long and Sky was still passed out. This couldn’t be good. The old man asked what had happened and one of the soldiers told him. The healer turned to Storm. “Are you crazy? What the hell was going through your head?” A loud gasp from the soldiers followed his harsh words, but Storm did nothing more than hang his head.
“He’ll be just fine,” the healer said after a few more minutes. “He only fainted, there is no apparent damage to his head and nothing else seems broken. Let him rest.”
Storm followed the old man out of the chambers, wondering where he should go. Clearly, Sky wouldn’t want to see him standing there when he came to. Yet Storm couldn’t go very far despite his husband’s wishes. He wanted to be there, be the first to know when Sky awoke, go to him and apologize.
Storm went into the room next to their bed chamber. He used it for meetings with his generals or anyone else in the castle requiring an audience. His chair creaked as he sat at his messy desk, looking through the blank papers scattered about. What had he done? Guilt gripped his heart, adding to the anguish he felt for putting Eagle in harm’s way. Storm couldn’t get anything right. Maybe his father had been telling him the truth all along. Storm was made for war, but an utter failure as a leader in times of peace.