During his next shift guarding Malachite, Lucas tried to ignore the outlaw. Malachite attempted a new strategy as well—singing. It wasn't loud, obnoxious singing; the outlaw had a strangely good voice, a rich baritone. He didn't sing bawdy songs; he started with love ballads.
Lucas did his best to ignore the outlaw, throwing knives at a target one of the other lawmen had put up. However, Malachite didn't give up when the love ballads didn't work. When he didn't get a rise out of Lucas, he started on the bawdy tavern songs about lovemaking and whoring.
Gritting his teeth, Lucas nearly threw a knife at the outlaw.
"Shut up!" the lawman shouted finally, brandishing one of the knives. "Would you just shut up?!"
"Let me make sweet love to you."
Already riled up, he couldn't stop the flush from dusting his cheeks. "No! Stop asking me!"
"Then I won't shut up," Malachite replied with a grin. His songs started again, going from bawdy tavern songs to courtship ballads. Lucas had no idea where he'd learned all these songs—nor was he willing to find out. He didn't want to know.
After enduring several shifts of watching over Malachite, Lucas was relieved to see a host of reinforcements show up. Patrols were set to watch the gallows at night. By the next afternoon, the gallows were done.
And it was Lucas's turn to watch the outlaw again. The other lawmen were getting just as fed up with him as Lucas was; only their annoyance wasn't over the same thing.
"Why do you keep annoying everyone here?" Lucas asked, pulling the desk chair over to the cell and settling in. Malachite smiled at the question, leaning against the wall by the cell bars.
"Because it's entertaining, that's why," Malachite replied.
"Is that why you want to... fuck me, as you so eloquently put it?"
Malachite's smirk fell slightly, and the tilt of his head revealed more of his pointed ears. "Nah. I've grown a liking to you. I don't want to fuck the whores in this town cuz everyone's done 'em once, and none of the women I've met are as... fierce as you... you're like a cougar. You didn't give up, even when I picked off your men one by one. You didn't stop 'til you had me."
"It was my job."
"And I heard you got taken off the job," Malachite replied, with a grin and wink.
Lucas sighed and turned away. "I started this. I had to finish it."
"See, that's what I'm talking 'bout. You're... what's that word... tenacious. Yeah, that's the word. Tenacious. You didn't give up, even when you got taken off the job," Malachite said. "So... I'm gonna be just as tenacious. Let me do you."
Lucas ground his teeth again and turned back to reject him again, to retort, until he saw the sincerity in the other's eyes.
"It's my last request. I don't want to guilt trip you. I'd like to go out there tomorrow, able to face my death. Let me do you. I ain't gonna force you, and I ain't gonna be cruel about it. I'll be gentle."
"That doesn't make me feel any better, you know."
"I'm not real good at this, blondie, okay?" Malachite muttered and sighed, hanging his head. He crossed his arms and finally looked back at Lucas. "If you don't want to, that's fine. Like I said, I don't want to force you or anything."
The outlaw smiled then, and Lucas looked away. Then, the lawman stood from his chair and dragged it back to the desk without another word. He switched places with another lawman; he didn't look back.
—
Laying on his cot, Lucas stared up at the ceiling. The sky outside was dim with a touch of red, the sun having set less than an hour ago. Malachite's words ate at him constantly, driving him to distraction. He couldn't sleep. With a sigh, Lucas rolled onto his side, running his hand through his hair.
"Come on, blondie. Let me fuck you."
Lucas gritted his teeth and shut his eyes. "No..."
"Let me make love to you... I'll be good to you..."
"No," Lucas growled, turning onto his side.
But he could feel those strong hands on him, just like when he was captive in Malachite's hideout. The hands wrapped around his chest, stroking his neck. Hot breath ghosted over his ear, fluttering his hair.
—
Snapping his eyes open, Lucas shot up, casting his eyes around the room.
Blessedly alone.
With a sigh, Lucas rubbed the scars on his wrists, feeling the weight of the shackles as if they were still there. His eyes downcast, he locked his gaze on the angry, healing flesh. Twisting his lip for a moment, Lucas decided.
With silent movements, Lucas left the room and made his way out of the house. He strode quickly to the sheriff's office next door, knocking once before coming in. The lawman there was throwing knives at the overused target and glanced at Lucas.
"What's going on?"
"Nothing, nothing... I can't sleep, so I'll take this shift. You go ahead and head to bed."
"You sure?" the lawman asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah, like I said—can't sleep." Lucas offered a wane smile. The other man stood and left with a shrug, giving Lucas a wave and a thank you.
Taking a breath, Lucas took the keyring from the wall and strode to Malachite's cell.
—
The sun licked at his cheek, waking Lucas with a start. The lawman winced slightly as he pushed himself off the floor. Glancing about, he took stock of his surroundings. The cell door was open; Malachite was gone; the sun was up.
Slowly, the events of last night—and the last few weeks—sunk in. Lucas sat back on his heels, letting the rays of the sun wash over him. A sudden realization crashed against him as he breathed in deeply, taking in the musky, dusty scent of Malachite.
...I love him.
Lucas shook his head and leaned forward, bracing his hands on his knees. A flush at the thought spread over his cheeks.
It's true.
He couldn't deny it. There was no other reason he'd have let Malachite do that to him last night. When he opened that cell door, he'd opened the way for more than just sex.
Wait... it's morning... his execution!
Lucas staggered to his feet, quickly threw on his clothing, and ran from the cell, grabbing the bars to help him turn at his speed. He sped from the sheriff's office, running as fast as his feet—and aching body—could take him.
Please let me be in time. Oh, Lord, please don't take that sinner from-
Lucas skidded to a stop as he came around the corner, his eyes falling on the gallows in the central plaza.
Swinging from the rope was his sinner, his outlaw, the man who had tormented him for weeks, had killed his men—and wiggled his way into his heart.
Gulping hard, quick breaths, Lucas fell to his knees in the dry earth, his eyes transfixed to that hard, scarred face—softened by his final smile.
READ THE FULL VERSION ON GUMROAD. Link in the Author's Note.
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