Rowan had originally responded to Eremis’s rather haughty accusations with something akin to high spirits—but his spirits quickly waned. His good mood vanished like a puff of smoke the minute the boy mentioned the Silk Palace. His take on what had happened between them was obviously radically different than Eremis’s, whose good sense and judgement seemed, as ever, to be consistently obscured by his own self-righteousness.
In fact, the more Eremis rattled on about his supposedly immoral ways, the more incensed he became. It was not a comfortable feeling for him to lose control of his emotions, so he did his best to keep a firm grip on his anger. But he finally lost it when Eremis accused him of luring the poor, defenseless Soran into his amoral den of iniquity, a.k.a. his bed.
“You speak very harshly of me,” he said, gritting his teeth as though literally forcing the words out of his mouth. “And for what cause? I would ask you what it is about me that you find so disgusting, but you seem to already have me figured out. Are you hoping to reveal my nature to your friend the way you have to your lover?”
“Tell me,” he continued, leaning forward slightly, “what evidence are you planning on using to back up your claims? When have you known me to be false to anyone? Which of your friends or acquaintances have I wronged to make you dislike me so? Which of my lovers has come and complained of my obscene behavior to you? Could it be that YOU who claim to know so much of my history can’t even supply me with one name?”
It was appalling, insulting, positively absurd that this, this boy who knew almost nothing about him was going to sit here and give him a dressing down as if he were a priest, or worse yet, his own father! He felt his anger grip him and shake him from the inside out, and he knew his eyes must be flashing, “like a pair of diamonds in the flame,” as one friend used to say.
“As for what occurred at the Silk Palace,” he added, “I can only forgive your confusion over what happened because you were, shall we say, out of your senses at the time. Allow me to refresh your memory: I offered you aid. You refused it. You threw yourself at me and likely would have gone further had I not put a stop to it. You used sex with me to disguise your own fear of being brought into the open, and you ought to regret every additional day and night you spent living in complete and total misery because you refused to receive MY assistance when it was so kindly bestowed upon you!”
He would have said more, but at that moment Soran and Cas reappeared. He was stiff and cold in Soran’s arms, his eyes still locked on Eremis’s righteous little gaze. After a while, though, he shook himself and tried to focus on what Soran was saying.
“I don’t know a bloody thing about archery,” he said bluntly. His hands moved up automatically to stroke the arms around his neck, though his temper was still white-hot with anger. “And you don’t need to ask ME whether or not you can take lessons from Kato. I’m not your keeper, sari.”
He finally turned and stared into his lover’s eyes, a smile coming almost grudgingly to his face. “But yes,” he added, his voice dropping somewhat. “Let’s go to bed. Your company is about all I can stand at the moment.”
Cas watched as Rowan and Soran stood up and headed toward one of the nearby tents they’d all helped set up earlier. Darlanta watched them longingly before sighing and murmuring something about being lonely. Cas rolled his eyes and turned to Eremis.
“What’s a matter?” he asked. “You two look like you were having a staring contest or something.”
While waiting for the healer to answer, he thought about what Soran had told him earlier. It suddenly dawned on him just how totally right his best friend had to be. Hell, he didn’t even really KNOW the real Eremis. The Eremis he knew was a nice guy who turned to whoring to support his newfound drug habit. That Eremis needs his love and support and friendship just to make it through the day. He needed to be kissed, hugged, and taken care of by someone who was wiser about the ways of the world, but not yet jaded by them. He needed me.
What did Eremis need now? He scowled because he was already starting to figure that one out. A stay-at-home lover. Somebody boring, like him. Somebody who’ll listen to his whining and complaining without batting an eyelash. Somebody NOT like me!
“Uh,” he said, rather stupidly, interrupting whatever Eremis was saying at the moment. “Remy, I think we gotta talk.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and examined his bare feet. “It’s kind of important.”
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