Chapter 348: Hot Stare.

Chapter 348: Chapter 348: Hot Stare.

The ride back passes by in a blur. The air smells different with a storm on the horizon and even though the evergreens block their view of the sky at times, Khobi can still sense it building.

Loac must too, because gone is the leisurely way with which they’d picked their way out here.

Now, there’s urgency to the way they descend; skirting down banks and through the trees, and as expertly as Loac finds his way, it’s still a bumpy ride and Khobi finds himself clinging to him even tighter than before.

​(He can’t explain it, but he gets the weird sense that neither Loac nor the horse will let him fall.)

​The moment they hit the flat, they fly .

​Up in the mountains it feels like snow, but down here on the plains it feels like rain.

Khobi’s never seen a winter storm roll in so fast; clouds billowing dark and savage as they angrily swallow up the sky.

Out here the thunder feels like it’s all around them, echoing off the earth and the horizon so loud it makes his heart pound and his head ring.

And when he peers back towards the forest, the evening sun has been all but completely consumed by the darkness of the encroaching storm.

​And now it’s coming for them.

​They don’t make it back to the city before the rain hits. They see it coming, feel it breathing down their necks, but even as swift as he is the stallion can’t quite outrun a storm.

And when it hits it hits hard and bitter and torrential, like the sky has turned to ocean and wants to drown the world, and despite their cloaks they’re quickly and completely drenched through.

The snow beneath them vanishes, churning to sludge and as it pours and pours, darkness coming just as hard and just as fast; relentless and wild in its pursuit of them.

There’s no lightning; not yet, but the thunder only builds, warning of worse to come. And even as the storm breaks overhead, biting and stinging as if to drag him back into the wilderness, Khobi finds himself feeling oddly light.

​...

​The gates are already opening for them as they make their approach, and as they hurtle on through; little more than a black blur against the shattering sky, no one stops them.

​...

​It’s easily the worst storm Khobi’s ever been caught out in.

He’s been wet before; soaked through innumerable times, but even the days he’s spent training in downpours don’t begin to compare to this.

When they draw up the stables are in disaarry; already flooded with mud and grooms trying to calm the horses set screaming by the cacophony beyond the walls.

He gets shooed while Loac gets his horse settled, and while he’s fast losing count of how many times he’s let Loac boss him around today, he can’t really find a good enough reason to argue today.

The servants all looked stressed enough without him underfoot, and Loac clearly knows what he’s doing. Not to mention the sooner he’s out of there, the sooner he can get dry .

There’s no helping the muddy trail he tracks back to his room; his boots sloshing and cloak heavy and waterlogged.

It’s a relief to finally let the furs thud to the ground, but he grimaces as a puddle quickly starts to form beneath it and decides that the bath is probably a better spot for it for now.

It takes a bit of work to heft it up and into the tub, but at least it’s not dripping all over the floor. Unlike Khobi.

Even now, it somehow still feels like it’s raining , and the moment the bathroom door swings shut behind him and he catches sight of his reflection in the bedroom mirror, he bursts out laughing.

Because fuck he is soaked .

And so badly it’s comical. The rain’s worn his hair flat and there’s water running down his face and dripping off his chin and his nose and pooling in his collarbones, and his shirt is completely transparent and is dripping just as bad; sticking to his body like a second, much wetter skin.

He looks like a drowned rat. An enormous, grinning, drowned rat .

But all the rain in the world couldn’t dampen the fires burning in his eyes.

They’ve been blazing since the moment he first stepped up onto that horse, and they haven’t stopped, not even for a moment. If anything they’ve grown , their ever-burning flames fueled by the furnace in his chest and the untamed breath of the wild.What a day.

His first ride.

The sweet taste of the mountain air again, and the wilderness spreading before him. All because of Loac .

Swallowing does nothing to loosen the abrupt tightness in his chest, and Khobi distractedly scrubs a hand back through his hair as if that might scrub the thought from his brain.

It does not. What it does do, however, is draw his gaze back to the mirror, and he finds that where before the room behind him was empty, there are now not one but two reflections staring back.

With the storm raging outside, he didn’t even hear Loac come in.

The furs are gone, and even at this distance and even with what little light that peeks in through the cracks in the shutters Khobi can tell he’s soaked all the way through to his skin.

Rain’s always looked good on him, and the way his shirt clings to his lithe frame as he slowly works his buttons open makes Khobi want to lick his lips.

In the mirror, Loac’s hands suddenly fall still and Khobi realises dimly that he’s been caught staring.

It’s by no means the first time, but in this light and at this intensity the magnetic hold Loac’s gaze has over him is irresistible, and this time when their eyes meet, he doesn’t look away.

Neither of them do.

​Outside, thunder crashes, but Khobi suddenly feels it in his chest and in his ears like it’s not just somehow in there with them, but centred on them.

He wonders if Loac feels it too.

But he doesn’t ask, and Loac says nothing; blue eyes unreadable as they gauge him through the gloom, staring right back.

And when Khobi holds his gaze, his hands slowly resume motion; starting to peel his shirt open button by button to bare his shoulders and the dark, lithe lines of his body, inch by tantalising inch.

And with his reflection staring him down; eyes never leaving his, not even to blink, Loac lets his shirt fall.

Khobi doesn’t see where it lands. It could have fallen out of space and time for all he knows; for all he cares.

​He knows he should look away.

But caught up in Loac’s gravity like this he can’t , and in that moment he doesn’t know why he ever would .

​I want him.

​Red eyes glinting as they cut through the darkness, Khobi’s fingers idly drift to the top button of his shirt.

It offers no resistance.

​Neither does the second.

​The rain intensifies, hammering desperately against the shutters as thunder rolls in off the sky; the deep, echoing growl of some enormous beast descending from the heavens to hunt.

To feast. And it’s not the only thing that hungers.

​Lightning flashes. And in that instant of blinding light, the ethereal blue of Loac’s eyes blows dark.

​He takes but a single step towards him, and the unabashed, burning ferocity in his expression --something primal and predatory --sends a shudder of anticipation down Khobi’s spine.

And as the last of Khobi’s buttons gives way to bare, glistening skin, Loac’s reflection begins to silently edge closer.

And for every step he takes, Khobi feels the static between them rising to the point of frenzy; not just in the air around them but within him.

Those sparks are taking root; feeding heat into his blood and making his heart race and stoking the hunger that’s been boiling away within him, desperate to overflow.