It's 19th century America. Society is crumbling against the pressures of a civil war, and is about to break in two. Austin Lassiter, a promising young man with prestige and money, is nothing but loyal to his family and everything it stands for. Beau...
A battle ground didn't smell like he'd expected. It reeked of blood and metal. Smoke so heavy in the air a man could barely breathe.
Some shouted furious battle cries as they charged on, shooting their muskets at any one wearing a confederate uniform. Voices synchronizing with the screams of those injured, lying on the cold ground as they waited for help or death. Blood soaking their uniforms and the dirt beneath them. Some were only shot. Or stabbed. Some were missing entire limbs.
He looked to Frasier, who had just shoved him out of a bullet's trajectory. They landed on the ground with a thud.
Austin's vision blurry. The blasts of canons made his ears ring. He stood only to feel the sharp pierce into his side. Looking down to see a long silver knife sticking out of him.
A heavy, warm liquid seeped from his mouth, running down his chin. He brought his fingers to his lips, which came back red.
The fire of a musket made him jump, looking back to see Rich shooting the Confederate who'd stabbed him from behind.
Then an intense pressure as the knife was ripped out of him. A cry of pain gurgling in the back of his throat.
It was then he realized he had fallen back down. Choking on the blood that ran down his neck and into his collar. The ground beneath him turning hot. That was odd.
His head lifted from the dirt, hair slick with sweat and dirt. Looking up was a mistake. A unrelenting scream of terror ensued as he gazed down. Uniform completely red.
Bloody stumps replacing his legs. Bone poking out at the end, jagged. His skin torn. He could see his own bone marrow. His hands raised to wave for help but those too, were gone. Spurts of blood erupting.
He screamed again, voice cracking as tears ran down his mud stained cheeks. He sobbed and-
Something shook him violently. A guttural bellow causing his voice to go hoarse. Austin's eyes shot open. He felt wetness at his cheeks. And a warmth that encapsulated his body.
Oh god, it was real. It wasn't a dream.
In a haste, he looked down at his sweat soaked dressing gown. There were no legs to be seen. Only a light blue blanket. Pitched breathing echoed in his ears. Trembling hands rose into his line of sight, ripping the blanket off of his lower body.
But it was dark. And he couldn't see the legs that were there. This only made him scream more. His mind unable to process that what he'd dreamed wasn't reality.
A loud voice beside him said, "Austin! It was just a dream! Calm down!"
Austin's strained voice gave out, his chest heaving as he struggled for air. His legs flailing as if trying to escape something. A strong force bound his arms to his chest, hold him still. He gripped at the person's arms so hard his knuckles went white. Tears streamed down his cheeks. Breathing like he was stuck underwater.
The same voice saying, "Just breath. You're in your bed at home. That's it. Breath with me. In and out. Good."
Austin exhaled a shaky breath with the man that spoke. Every once and a while a stifled sob and halfhearted yelps escaping him.
Kisses trailed his head. "Shh. I'm right here. You're home, Austin. You're safe."
He believed the words he was hearing. Because they came from the sweetest voice he'd ever heard. A voice like honey. Warmth and happiness. Safety. Home. He was home. With Rafa.
A little add on.
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