The Lonely Ones

Chapter Thirty-Three: Dark Obsession, Painful Addiction

Wren awakes to the sounds of Camellia rummaging in the kitchen. Sunlight creeps through the cracks of the window, casting golden light through the dim room. Beside the prince, Artemis sleeps soundly, skin marked by their nightly activities. Wren would bask in his achievement and Artemis' unrivaled beauty if not for further noise from Camellia. The sounds stir Artemis from his slumber, forest eye opening to gaze upon Wren like it's a dream. Then reality settles and Artemis sits up, eyes darting to the door.

"This is where I take my leave," Wren whispers, rising silently from bed. He grabs his discarded clothes, dressing prior to reaching the window.

"When will you return?" Artemis asks.

Wren turns, surprised to discover Artemis right behind him. Unfortunately, fully dressed. While he did not see all of Artemis' secrets, he at least felt them and has made a new vow to himself to get the full Artemis experience at some point. Preferably in the very near future, but he's patient. He can wait.

"This evening, with the promised pebble, if you can survive that long without me," the prince replies, smirking like the devil. "Don't wander the woods, landing yourself into trouble because you ache to see me. Although I am more than alright with coming to your aid once again. However, I may start requesting payment for my assistance."

Artemis chuckles. The sound often rests in the back of his throat, deep and alluring.

Admittedly, Wren is the one aching for more. To hear his laughter, see a bright smile, spend days and nights together in bed. His own desires confuse him, sensations never felt prior belonging to one who couldn't possibly understand the power he holds.

"I'll try my best to refrain from causing more trouble," Artemis says, stepping forward to press a chaste kiss to Wren's lips. As if the prince would allow something so simple. His arm snakes around Artemis' waist, bringing him in for more. They kiss until Wren knows any more will prevent him from leaving. He presses his forehead to Artemis', breathing in his wild scent that catches fire to the once freezing blood in his veins. Then he heaves himself out the window, heading for the woods.

Although they're apart, Wren's skin tingles from Artemis' touch. Recalling the tentative exploration of his hands, the taste of his lips, the low moans, and the heat between them. Wren's by no means an amateur. In fact, he'd like to argue he's at least on the way to making a record of most partners ever procured. But none of them live up to last night, to a moment that should be so painfully average it's forgotten the next morning. Instead, Wren starts to worry he'll never forget and never find a moment so intense with another.

Lost in thought, he doesn't take notice of the abrupt warmth overtaking the Grim Woods. Not until the wind picks up, whispering warnings and brushing waves of heat against his cool skin. The grass beneath his feet, once withering under his snow, stands tall against heat pouring through the trees. Between those trees, there's a slither of orange.

Ignit's son, Azar, steps through the foliage crumbling to ash from his touch. Eyes black as coal shimmer with new found light while Wren's gaze darkens. He struggles not to peer back at the path taken towards Artemis' home.

How long has Azar been here? Does he know of Artemis?

Wren narrowly avoids clenching his fists when Azar speaks, "Once you were delighted to see me, Wren. Now, I don't get so much as a pleasant greeting."

"Was your attempt to stab me in the back considered a pleasant greeting?" Wren argues.

Azar smirks. "Depends on who you ask."

"I'm asking you."

"You didn't die or come to harm. It is a rather amusing way to say hello. You should agree, having stabbed a few in the back yourself."