For the first time in his life, the words didn’t insult him. They complimented him. He was of giant’s blood and damn proud of it.

  Whistling met his ears an instant before white hot pain punctured his arms and legs. He stumbled forward and turned his head to see green-feathered arrows sticking out of any piece of exposed skin. The breast plate and helmet protected his vital areas but if the arrowheads were dipped in poison… Ah gods, they are.

  Jeth trembled as his extremities numbed. He fell to one knee, the sword slipping from his grasp. Gritting his teeth, he fought against the poison, knowing it was useless. He had too much human in him to be completely immune like his giant kin. This time, there was more than one arrow.

  “Again!” Hadic bellowed. “Hit him again!”

  Jeth looked over his shoulder at the line of five fendra drawing back their bows. He also saw the large figure of his father racing toward them from behind, a massive club in his hands, bigger than his own head.

  “Behind you!” Hadic said.

  Too late.

  Jethron plowed into the fendra and crushed them with his brutal swings. With eyes alight with thirst for blood and mayhem, Jethron turned from the remains of the fendra to eye Hadic.

  “Stay away from me, monster!”

  Not saying a word, Jethron strode up, lifted his club, and brought it down on Hadic’s head. Jeth turned his face away to avoid the worst of the vile splatter and gore. His breathing grew shallow, and he fell on his side.

  “Jeth!”

  “Papa,” he said, realizing this might be the one and only time he could say the word.

  Jethron dropped his club and pulled Jeth into his arms. “I’m not losing you this way. Neither is your human.”

  With little grace or mercy, Jethron tore out the arrows. Jeth gasped and groaned as paralysis took over his body. Jethron lifted his own hand and bit into the fleshy part of his palm. Then he pressed it to Jeth’s mouth.

  Jeth met his father’s eyes.

  “You simply need more giant in you this time,” Jethron said.

  Jeth had no choice but to drink the thick, salty liquid. It wasn’t long before Jethron pulled his hand away and smeared his blood on Jeth’s wounds. Then he laid Jeth on the ground and stood.

  “I doubt this will be our last meeting.” Then he was gone.

  Jeth trembled as he felt his father’s blood attack the poison, counteracting it. His muscles spasmed and jerked, his throat burned, and his head throbbed. It was almost worse than what the poison did to him by itself all those years ago.

  Through the agony, as he hovered between life and death, he heard Kodie’s voice. Whether imaginary or real, he wasn’t sure, but it made him fight harder for life. He managed to open his eyes and meet Kodie’s bright blue ones. Then the pain became too much, and he sank into nothing.

  Kodie watched the soldiers pack up their camp. The pass would belong to the giants. That was the agreement. The mountains were theirs, had always been theirs. Kodie couldn’t blame them for wanting humans off their mountains. The Dathians would think twice before trying to route a large clan of giants, and without Hadic, the king had no authority. Even now there were rumors of a coup, and Kodie was satisfied with that. Let the war be internal for a while, and leave Senica alone.

  “How are things progressing?”

  Kodie swung around and glared. “Jeth, you idiot! Get back in that tent, lay down, and don’t move.”

  Jeth scowled as he stood by his tent. “I am well enough, for the gods’ sake. I am no puny human. You seem to forget that.”

  Kodie stomped over to him and shoved him back inside. It was easier than it should have been. “You’re going to listen to me this time, giant man. Stay in bed until we are ready to move out.”

  Jeth caught Kodie’s hands and swung him around, shoving him on top of the table. He pinned Kodie’s hands to the wood and stared down at him with an amused expression.

  “Even sick you’re still no match for me.”

  It was Kodie’s turn to scowl. “Stop being so difficult. You nearly died. Again. We’re nearly off this mountain, and I won’t lose you now.”

  Jeth’s expression softened and leaned down to nuzzle Kodie’s chin, lips slipping over his neck.

  “I really hate you sometimes.”

  Jeth chuckled. “That is an absolute lie.”

  Kodie sighed deeply and shook his head. “You don’t make it easy for me.”

  “I know.” Jeth lifted his head and stole a kiss. “I am who I am, and I am what I am. I won’t change, and you don’t want me to change.”

  Kodie smiled. “No, I don’t. Just take it easy, please. You scared the spirit out of me. I’m still recovering.”

  Jeth nodded and stroked Kodie’s head. “I will. Truly, Kodie, I am well. I can help get us off this gods’ forsaken mountain.”

  Kodie smiled. “Fine. But I’ll be watching you.”

  “I get all tingly when you threaten me like that.”

  Kodie couldn’t help himself. He laughed.

  Chapter Twelve

  Six months later

  Jeth stomped into the manor, knocking snow off his boots. He didn’t mind being the ambassador to his own clan, but gods. He was tired of being the middle-man between the Senica king and his clan’s council. He enjoyed visiting his grandmother, and occasionally running into his father, but there were times he just wanted to stay home.

  To stay with Kodie.

  He took off his cloak and hung it on the peg by the front door. The manor felt empty. He suspected Kodie was with his parents. Jeth had been gone nearly a week so he wasn’t surprised Kodie sought family, not liking the solitude. After climbing down the mountain, there were endless amounts of celebration and speeches, and his army unit had even been invited to the palace so the king could thank them personally. Even Master General Cord had cracked a smile and glanced at Kodie and him with approval.

  Then they were stationed at the foot of the Lash Mountain Range in a grand manor formerly owned by another general who had perished in the war. Fields and pastures spread as far as the eye could see, and the locals were friendly enough. Kodie’s family relocated to be near their son, and things seemed to be settling somewhat. Except for his all-too frequent trips to his kin. He was tired of being the messenger boy.

  There were once servants in the manor but Kodie and Jeth were so used to doing everything themselves, there wasn’t a point to keeping them. It also made Jeth feel awkward to have others wait on him, especially when they continued to look at him with awe or fear.

  He wanted Kodie. Yet a bath sounded good as well. It would relax and revitalize him for the seductive evening he had planned. He heated the water at the fireplace in the kitchen before dumping it into the luxurious bathing tub. A gift from the king, in fact. One specially made for him, big enough for Jeth’s frame.

  He sank into the hot water and winced slightly before relaxing. He scrubbed himself clean with soap and a washcloth before sitting back. He closed his eyes and indulged himself. Though the mountains were his, as Jethryn told him so long ago, he couldn’t deny the simple pleasure of living in moderate temperatures, without snow, and mild wind.

  He must have drifted deeper than he intended, because he woke to find Kodie stripping next to the tub. Jeth smiled.

  “How is your family?”

  “Well and happy.” Kodie slipped into the tub, straddling Jeth’s lap. Wrapping his arms around Jeth’s neck, he kissed him passionately, hungrily. Jeth gripped Kodie’s taunt ass, fingers brushing his intimate hole. Kodie shivered and pressed closer, tighter.

  They’d both cut their beards, looking less like wildmen. It felt strange at first, but now Jeth liked the feel of it, and liked the way the blond curly hair defined Kodie’s jawline and chin. Without the beard, Kodie would look ten years younger, only if one didn’t look into his eyes. His eyes showed his years and what he’d experienced. Both of theirs did.

  “I want you to have me,” Kodie said as he pulled back slightly.

  “I do have you.”

  “No, I mean—” Kodie reached behind and grabbed Jeth’s hard cock to slide it between his ass cheeks, against his hole. He stared into Jeth’s eyes the entire time.

  “Oh,” Jeth whispered. “Yes, I want that. But I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t.”

  They did prepare him, with oil, usually reserved for cooking. This wasn’t the first time Jeth had claimed a man, but he knew it was the first time for Kodie. When Kodie confessed months ago he never had any other lover besides Jeth, Jeth was stunned and proud and terrified. He worked slowly with Kodie lying on his stomach on their bed, legs spread. Jeth continued to stroke Kodie’s cock as he pushed his fingers into Kodie. Kodie moaned and twitched, and never asked him to stop.

  Jeth leaned over him and kissed his neck, his shoulders, dragging his tongue over several old scars. Kodie shuddered out a breath.

  “Please, now,” Kodie whispered.

  Jeth had been waiting for those words. He used more oil on his cock and held his control on a firm leash. He would rather saw off his dick than harm Kodie in any way. He pushed in slowly, and Kodie’s long moan nearly undid his resolve. He held on and continued, stroking Kodie’s cock through the entire event. When he was halfway in, he pulled out, then pushed back. Again and again, he found an easy rhythm. Kodie gasped and moaned and started to move with him. Jeth continued to stroke, to kiss, to hold on tightly to his control. He was inside his one and only mate, and it was beautiful and felt so right.

  When he felt himself close to coming, Jeth pulled all the way out. Kodie made a sound of annoyance. Jeth grinned and rolled Kodie over. His face was flushed, his eyes bright with need, his cock thick and hard.

  “Trust me,” Jeth said on a grunt. He draped Kodie’s legs over his arms and gripped his hips before pushing in again.

  Kodie’s breath caught, and he grabbed his own cock, stroking in time with Jeth’s thrusts. Their gazes met and held as pleasure overtook them both. Jeth watched Kodie come, semen splashing over his stomach and chest, and the sight of that pushed Jeth over the edge. He pulled out just before he found release and his semen mixed with Kodie’s, painting his lover and friend white.

  Then he simply braced his hands on the bed and gasped, heart racing and thudding against his ribs.

  “Would you,” Kodie said, gasping, “let me inside you?”

  Jeth huffed out a laugh. “Whatever you want.”

  “Seriously?”

  Jeth met his gaze. “You’re my life, Kodie. If you want something, just ask.”

  Kodie grinned. “As soon as I get my breath back, I’m holding you to that.”

  “I live to serve.”

  Kodie yanked Jeth close, making a sticky mess between them, his laughter filling the room. Jeth closed his eyes, thinking it the most beautiful sound in the world.

  ###

  Want More Fantasy?

  Read on to check out Healing Lance (A Warrior’s Redemption 1)

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  A baby’s laughter.

  A mind uncaged.

  Lance is known as Scourge, the warrior in the black armor, the dog of the warlord Ulfr Blackwolf. He was just a boy when Ulfr found him and molded him into the perfect weapon. He slaughters and pillages on command, merciless and numb, devoid of emotions. Then a baby girl laughs at him during a raid.

  And everything changes.

  When Gust, a talented healer, is out deer hunting and stumbles across a magnificent horse bearing a mortally wounded rider, he has no idea that his life is about to change forever. Gust applies all his skills to his patient, determined to save the rider’s life, and is rewarded when the man opens his eyes.

  As friendship, and more, bloom between warrior and healer, so does the danger over the horizon. Ulfr has not forgotten, and Lance must take his first steps on the long road to redemption.

  Healing Lance excerpt

  The baby shouldn’t matter. But she did.

  He easily held her small body in his broad hands. He knew the baby was a girl because she was naked. She kicked her legs as if she wanted to dance, and her wide amber eyes gazed at him in seeming fascination. He stared down at her, wondering why she didn’t scream. Didn’t babies scream? Adults certainly did when they saw him. He didn’t like the sound. All he wanted to do was silence the noise.

  The baby stared at him a moment before her mouth curled up at the corners, and she laughed. He froze at the unusual sound. With eyes alight, she grabbed her feet and continued to laugh. It was… all the things foreign to him. It wasn’t cruel or dark but careless, showing a freedom he’d never known. She wiggled in his hands, her pale, pink body flush with life and potential.

  Battle roars and the cries of the dying met his ears again, in stark contrast to the little life he held. He wrenched his gaze away from her and looked around the charred hut and over the collapsed roof. The light from the fires consuming the village illuminated the destruction and the blood splattered on the walls and floor. It was a view he was accustomed to, one he understood. The weight of his sword was one he only noticed when it wasn’t there. He returned his gaze to the baby. This was something he didn’t understand. She was confusing.

  She laughed again as goosebumps broke out over her body. She was cold. He scanned the area and spotted a blanket that only had blood on one corner. He wrapped her as best he could, another thing unfamiliar to him, and his black armored gloves made the action awkward. Then he pressed her against his steel chest. He wanted her to survive. He didn’t know why—he just knew he didn’t want her to die.

  “Please….”

  A young woman lay on the floor at his feet, one he thought was dead. It appeared she had only been knocked out. She lay on her side, one arm stretched out to him, her normally golden skin sickly pale. Her dark brown hair was short, barely reaching past her ears, and one side of her head was caked with blood. The southern part of the kingdom of Grekenus didn’t seem too fond of hair as most of the men in the village were bald and beardless while the women grew hair no longer than their chins.

  “Please don’t kill her,” she said, dark eyes wide and dazed. “Don’t kill my daughter. Please, I beg you.”

  She spoke in Spart, the native language of the kingdom. He knew it well enough to communicate effectively.

  He looked at the baby and then back at the woman. If he wanted the baby to survive, she needed a caretaker. Since the woman was her mother, who better? He strode over to the woman where she struggled to rise and grabbed her arm. She winced at his grip as he tugged her to her feet. He shoved the baby into her arms before dragging her outside.

  “What are you—?”

  “Silence,” he said curtly. He observed the chaos through the smoke and beyond the fires. The broken dead littered the ground and fire ate everything it touched. A horse galloped toward them, one that belonged to the village since there was neither a saddle nor bridle on the beast. He let go of the woman and pointed to the ground.

  “Stay.” Then he strode in front of the horse and held up his hands. The beast reared on her hind legs, neighing in fright. Unlike with humans, he knew how to speak to horses. It wasn’t long before he’d calmed her and had her under control. He petted her neck and muzzle, whispering kind words. The frantic look in her eyes eased, and he led her over to the woman and the baby. She swayed on her feet and had stayed where he told her to, not that he’d doubted she would. The hope for escape let her trust him.

  He quickly found a length of rope and looped it around the horse’s nose and neck.

  “Get on.”

  She didn’t question him this time. She struggled to follow his command, and he realized the horse was just too tall for her to mount without help. He shoved her up, and she sat unsteadily on the horse’s back, her daughter clutched to her chest. She stared at him, and he noted the blood from her head now stained the side of her face and dress. She would see nothing of his face since his black armor covered every piece of flesh, and his eyes were barely visible through the narrow visor slit of the helmet.

  “Go.” He slapped the horse’s rear and the mare bolted. The woman leaned over the horse and let the mare lead them away from death.

  Another warrior, part of the warband, nocked an arrow and leveled it at her. He strode over and kicked the warrior’s knee, sending the man crashing to the ground with a scream of pain. The arrow flew wide. Another warrior was about to give chase on horseback, and he dashed over to grab the sword from his hand before shoving the warrior off the saddle. A few other attempts were made to stop the fleeing woman, and he stopped them all, causing various injuries and not caring in the least. He had no affinity to any of the warriors in the warband. He had no affinity to anyone… except the tiny girl.

  He still couldn’t figure out why. He wondered if he ever would.

  He stood there, on the muddy ground soaked with blood, staring after the woman. The smoke burned his throat and stung his eyes. The scent, the noise, the mess of battle he knew like he knew his name. He’d never been curious about anything beyond his current life. Now he did.

  He hoped she took good care of her daughter.

  “Lance!”

  He blinked and turned around. The warlord Ulfr, known throughout the Nifdem Empire as Mad Blackwolf, stalked over to him, expression like a thundercloud, his black, bushy beard and thick head of hair obscuring most of his ruddy face. He wasn’t as tall as Lance, although he was much broader, and there wasn’t a weak bone in his burly body. The quality of his black long-sleeved tunic, trousers, and boots showed a hard but fruitful life, and a few glistening red splatters indicated he didn’t leave all the fun to his warriors.

  A few of the warriors that Lance had attacked hobbled after their commander, scowling and muttering curses. All the men sported beards of one length or another. Lance remained clean shaven since the helmet made having a beard quite painful as it tugged on the strands and chafed his skin.

 

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