The kiss was not soft and sweet, and it was not tentative. It was, in fact, a battle in itself: two great kings fighting to own the other.
Remy surrendered now just as he had when they wrestled, opening his mouth to Miles’s demanding tongue. They both shuddered when Miles deliberately tore himself on Remy’s fang. The little spark of pain, flavored with salt and copper, only made Miles’s need more urgent. He was clutching Remy tightly, hands on Remy’s ass. Remy, moaning, mirrored him. Then their legs gave out and they tumbled to the soft ground with Miles on top. Still holding each other.
Laughing, the raven flew away.
11
They crept into the Castle through a back door just before the first rays of dawn could scorch Remy’s skin. Birds and small creatures were already investigating the meager remains of the Feast and sniffing at the ashes of the bonfire. Thorsens would eventually clean everything up, but not until at least midafternoon. Nobody would awaken early today.
Still naked, and giggling like children, Miles and Remy tiptoed upstairs and down the hall. They collapsed in a fit of laughter on Miles’s bed. But the laughter soon turned to something else, and for the second time their bodies joined in that most ancient of rhythms, culminating in what Remy called la petite morte, the little death.
“The Oak King has truly slain the Holly King,” Miles panted into Remy’s ear.
“Which I hope he continues to do often for the next six months. Then it’s the Holly King’s turn to reign.”
Their bodies were smeared with mud and blood and come, but neither had any interest in washing. Miles curled himself around Remy, and they fell deeply asleep.
They awoke just after sunset and discovered that the antlers were gone. No matter; Remy already knew plenty of other wonderful places to stroke Miles. Although they were both tempted to remain in bed, Miles was suddenly ravenous. He sat up and ruffled Remy’s hair. “The last anyone saw us, we were yelling at each other in our underwear. Do you think they assume we’ve murdered each other?”
“I suspect they know exactly what happened to us last night. Your grandmother knows for sure.”
Miles recalled her knowing gaze, her cryptic statements about journeys and change. “Yeah.” He rolled off the mattress and turned to face the bed, his tree tattoo on full display, and then held out a hand to Remy. “Shower?”
When Miles had first arrived at the Castle, his bathroom had contained an old tub that could easily, with only a bit of child’s imagination, become a mighty sailing ship—or the ocean itself, big enough for a flotilla of plastic toys. At some point when Miles neared his teens, a shower stall had appeared as well. Utilitarian, with plain white tile and a glass door. Now, however, when Miles dragged Remy into the bathroom, the shower enclosure had more than tripled in size, able to easily accommodate two men. Or a man and a vampire. And now the tiles were painted with oak trees and holly shrubs.
Getting clean turned out to be a long and wonderful process.
Afterward, Remy had to borrow a pair of Miles’s jeans, which fit him poorly, and a T-shirt. Miles gave him a long look. “It would be more convenient if your things weren’t in the basement.”
“It would.” Remy’s smile was a beautiful thing.
“Would you be safe from the sun if you slept here?”
Remy waved at the single window, which faced north and had thick drapes. “I didn’t burn today.”
“Do you want—”
“Yes.”
Miles had spent his first few years of life as a lost planet, stuck in an orbit far away. But then his parents had brought him home to the Castle. And the Castle was the sun. He’d circled happily until a collision with another planet sent him off course, wobbling and lost. Now he was back where he was supposed to be, and he and Remy could circle the sun together. For half the year, Remy would orbit Miles as Miles set their trajectory, and for the other half, their positions would reverse. At all points they’d be perfectly in balance.
“I finished that painting,” Miles said. “Do you think Grandma would like it as a slightly early Christmas gift?”
“She would.”
“Help me carry it?”
They rushed joyously up to the tower, and then down to rejoin their family.
Epilogue
Clara set down her empty coffee cup and sighed. “I should get back to the office. Looming deadline.”
“Don’t you lawyer types take summer vacations?” Miles popped the last bite of Aiden’s oatmeal cookie into his mouth. It contained bits of peach and was topped with a cream-cheese glaze. Delicious.
“We do, but not for a couple of weeks yet. Things pretty much shut down around the Fourth of July. Then the fam and I are heading to BC for a week. How about you guys?”
Miles shrugged. “I’m not sure artists get holidays. Aiden’s waiting on some fresh pieces.” He gestured at the conspicuously empty spots on the walls. Tourists were lured in by Aiden’s pastries and left with Miles’s paintings, a happy arrangement for them all. “Anyway, Remy’s in the middle of a project.” A folly, he called it: a whimsical faux-Gothic tower near the edge of the lawn. The younger Thorsens were pestering him to hurry up and finish so they could play knights and dragon-slaying damsels, but at this time of year, Remy had only short nights for work.
Miles had told him he should have saved the folly construction for the autumn and taken on an indoor project instead. But Remy had only grinned and said, “Your time to boss me around is coming to an end, my lord.”
And now Miles was struck by the need to get back to the Castle immediately. To run up to the third floor, strip out of his clothes, and climb into bed with Remy. Among other things, he’d learned that a cold bedmate was a lovely thing on a warm summer afternoon.
Clara and Miles carried their dishes to the bin along one wall. Aiden waved good-bye even though he was giving some tourists a rundown of the tempting delicacies in the display case.
Out on the sidewalk, a young cousin nearly collided with Miles as she and her little group zoomed by. No doubt on the way to the general store to buy ice cream bars. Arnie Lund scolded them from across the street, where he was making his slow way back to his law office, probably after lunch and a beer at Hansen’s Tavern. A moment later, Mom honked softly as she drove by. Freed from many of her work duties by summer break, she’d been driving to Kitteeshaa twice weekly, part of some oral history project she’d become involved in.
Up on the hill, the Castle sprawled as bright and improbable as always. Eccentric, inexplicable, welcoming.
“See ya later!” Clara said before dashing across the street. She looked back as she opened the door to her office, and Miles waved.
Time to enjoy his last few days as reigning king. Miles sprinted toward his lover, his center, his home.