Chapter 3

“Very well,” he murmured, reaching for Taden’s hand and swinging up behind him. Strangely disappointed that he hadn’t returned to his arms, Taden kicked the horse forward, sneering slightly when Nathaniel grabbed his waist to keep from falling.

The moon set steadily as they traveled, the forest quiet except for the creak of the saddle leather and the plod of the horse’s hooves on the dirt trail. Nathaniel became an alluring presence at Taden’s back as he slept, the warmth of his body stealing into Taden’s blood, awaking hungers he’d long suppressed.

Taden took a relieved breath when they reached the edge of an incline in the trail and he looked down on the flickering fire and the slumbering camp in the vale. He gave a sharp whistle, instantly answered. The hint of a morning breeze stirred his dark hair, and he pulled the long strands into a braid on his neck, letting the wind cool his blood.

He turned in the saddle. “Nathaniel?”