Wild Magic Three: The Shade of the Earth- a M/M fantasy shifter romance

6- Sweet Treat

SERA—

The cat shifter's hands and nose were on everything within reach. The herbs hanging from the ceiling of my workroom, the stacks of books and scrolls that filled every corner, the poultices and potions that sat in neat rows on my shelves or in my cupboards. I kept an eye on him with those, in case he got into one that would hurt him, but he was quick to move on.

The boy was adorable— well, man. The man was adorable. His growth was stunted by malnutrition throughout his formative years, that I could tell by first glance. But from the look of his skin and the beat of his heart, the wear in his soul, he was older than my two decades by at least a handful of years.

His eyes were huge and multi-colored, his skin a strange mix of tan and pale I couldn't quite put my fingers on, and his hair a nest of curls on his head.

He was also god-touched. I could see Ravin's mark on him, glowing like a brand. Don't touch, it warned. I am beloved of my goddess.

I smiled and gently led the boy to the table I used for examinations, helping him to sit before turning to stoke the fire to life. This workroom had belonged to Doctor Gerard for the last 45 years, and he had filled it with knowledge and healing and science. Now that he had retired two months before, I was adding onto the science with my magic. The tomes of poultices and potions lying alongside his medicines. His scrolls of science and anatomy resting beside my crystals and charms.

I'd taken his place with a heavy heart, knowing I was filling the shoes of a man who'd been in his position so long he'd brought many of the people who lived in the keep into this world, but I'd taken the position without a backwards glance. My father knew I could never take my place as Duke of Ruleden from when I was a small child. He'd always known I was different, he told me, but he'd thought I would just be one of those boys who liked other boys. He could handle that, deal with it, move past it. A "boy who wears dresses," however. That he had a hard time abiding.

I didn't begrudge Papa. He did the best he could with a hard life full of tragedy, and he loved me, in his way. Mama died during childbirth, trying to give Papa another babe, and she was his whole heart and his whole world. He was left with a son who had been born into a body that never fit right. A body that boy wanted to change as soon as humanly— or inhumanly— possible. A body that felt near-physical pain when the soul looked out of male eyes and saw a male body in the looking glass.

Sami remained silent as I stoked the fire up, and then I turned back to him and motioned at his pants.

"Can you take your clothes off? I need to do a physical examination."

The shifter seemed to understand, because he immediately had both shirt and trousers in a heap on the ground, and he was back up on the examination table, staring me down, his head cocked in question. Not even a hint of shame or embarrassment for his nakedness in his expression.

As I moved around him, following the bones beneath his skin with practiced fingers, tracing scars, listening to his heart and his breaths, he followed my every move with touches of his own. He seemed fascinated with me, and I smiled as I remembered the first time Cain had seen me. He too had stared at me strangely, but he'd been much more closed off than this man. He'd kept glancing over at me, and when I'd found out about his cat, he'd explained about the dichotomy in my soul and body.

The jarring strangeness I fought with daily. The wrongness I was born with, that I would bear for the rest of my life.

His touches may have discomfited me normally, but they were as innocent as could be— I could sense it. This man would never even look at another that wasn't his mate.