Slipping into the water, the hot spring eased the tension from his muscles instantaneously. As if he had been breathing in smoke for years and this is the first time he tasted true air. He lounged along the edge, arms outstretched and body submerged to his neck. Even when the troops passed cities, they didn’t bathe like this. The last hot bath of pure comfort happened before recruitment, at home. He tried to recall the scent of lilac from the petals drifting atop the water, then thought of shampoo in his hair, soap in his hands, stepping out cleaned and refreshed. Once he enlisted, the men had to take mostly cold showers among one another, never a moment of privacy, though he didn’t have privacy here either. The hair on the back of his neck stood, sensing Nicholas’ gaze. When his eyes opened, he caught those roseate fires seizing him. He hated how the attention made his heart skip a single beat.

“This would be perfect if we had a delectable steak and a good brandy,” Charmaine hummed.

“Brandy?” William chuckled. “Have you ever tried such a thing?”

“No, but I hear it’s fancy and this feels fancy.” She laughed. “Which sounds unbearably sad spoken out loud.”

“It does, but what I find sadder is I don’t know if I remember what steak tastes like.”

Groaning, Charmaine sunk beneath the water. By the sounds of it, she didn’t remember, either.

“Your owners don’t feed you so well, do they?” Arden asked across the spring where he ran thin fingers through his hair.

Charmaine resurfaced in time to hear him and echoed, “Owners?”

“The kings that own you.”

“They don’t own us.”

“Perhaps not on paper, but you are owned. They ordered you here, did they not?”

“And what of you?” William countered. “Did your Fae Lords not send you?”

The bridge of Arden’s nose wrinkled as if the mere suggestion offended him. “Of course not,” he scoffed. “I volunteered.”

“A rare few of us were ordered, though would have volunteered, regardless,” said Nicholas. “My father deemed it necessary for me to serve to maintain a relatively civil relationship with humans. I would have come without his request. If there is one compliment I can give mortals, it is their wicked and rapacious capacity for war. An invention no fae had thought of. Mortals know cruelty in ways we never fathomed, and I wanted a piece of it.”

Neither Charmaine nor William spoke against Nicholas’ claim. Deep down, he agreed. Humans spoke of war like fairytales with epic heroes and happy endings. Those who knew of war didn’t wish to speak of it at all.

“If you did not fight as one before, how did Faerie battle against Fearworn?” Charmaine asked. “He is from Faerie, after all. His madness started there.”

“We fought that madness on our own,” Arden answered flatly. “We fend for ourselves.”

“But Fearworn got out of control,” said William. “To think, if you fought together, maybe we wouldn’t be here.”

“What a pity that would have been. My first battle here was glorious. The rush.”

“The utter chaos,” Nicholas whispered as if reliving his fondest memories. Then his eyes swept over William, a taunting grin staining his expression. “There is very little that compares to a perfect slaughter.”

Charmaine gagged. “I shouldn’t have asked anything.”

“That encourages me to share more,” Arden declared and Charmaine sank into the water when the fae spoke of his battles in order of his least favorite to most adored.

William stopped listening almost instantly. Even if he were interested, it was hard to concentrate when one particular pointy eared dreg kept staring at him. Nicholas didn’t bother hiding his interest, either. The hunger didn’t sleep, choosing to howl within his monstrous eyes stronger than an ocean storm. Rather than lounge there under the intensity of his attention, William swam towards the rockface nearby. The hotspring drifted into a cavern lit by peculiar rocks embedded into the ceiling. They released a low green glow. He hovered a hand near one, testing if they were rocks or perhaps a variety of bug that, knowing the Deadlands, would come to life and devour him. But none reacted. He pressed a finger to the stone, surprised by their warmth. Were they warm from the hot spring or did they heat the spring? He wasn’t for certain about anything in the Deadlands.

The water rippled behind him.

He passed a stare over his shoulder. Nicholas stepped into the dim light. William had hoped the fae would have remained behind to embellish Arden’s story or relish in Charmaine’s disgusted expressions. Apparently, William was of more interest than even he surmised. He refused to let his eyes stay on Nicholas longer than a moment. The fae would enjoy the attention too much. He would rather not admit to anyone, especially himself, about how much he enjoyed the view. Out here, it was rare to enjoy anything. Blood and festered wounds kept his eyes company more days than not. He had grown weak to temptation, to seeing something else, something beautiful and warm.

“Am I not allowed a moment of peace?” William asked, holding his breath when Nicholas set a long nail against his back.

“These scars,” he said. William knew the fae would ask, though that didn’t stop his eyes from clenching shut. Nicholas pressed a warm finger against his skin and followed one of the scars from his shoulder to mid back. “Who did this to you?”

“Years of war.”

“Fae cannot lie, so we find it most frustrating when others do.”

“I am not lying.”

“You aren’t telling the full truth.”

William caught water in his cupped hands to run over his cooled skin. The steam of the hot spring battled against the winter air, though not enough to prevent his body from breaking out with goosebumps. That was what he would tell Nicholas if he dared to suspect otherwise. Wouldn’t want him knowing that the gentle touch of his finger tracing every mark made William feel anything other than disgust.

“I see no reason to tell you,” he said.

“We’re travel companions,” Nicholas countered with a smidge of humor in his voice.

“Not good or trustworthy ones.”

“We could be better if we got to know each other.” Nicholas’ hands settled on William’s waist.

“I doubt talking is the way you want to get to know me. Actually, I imagine you want to get to know the insides of my intestines.”

“That has always been on the list, although I admit it may no longer be at the top.”

“Oh, then what is?”

“You’re observant enough to guess.” Nicholas’ heated breath tickled the nape of his neck. William almost leaned into him, cursing himself for thinking with the wrong head. As troublesome as the last couple days have been, as rattled as he had become over the years, laying with a fae, no matter how ethereal, would not solve anything. Nicholas had beauty and strength that would likely lead to a more than satisfying encounter, but he also had a sharp tongue, violent and corrosive, destructive and daunting. He promised danger, and yet, Nicholas’ warmth somehow chilled the spring. His fire was unrivaled, seeping into William’s bones that ached for the forbidden.

“Your file revealed that you were in the infirmary often during your first year, although there was little information on your injuries,” Nicholas continued, thus making William’s teeth grind. “And these scars, in particular, are not new.”

“My recruitment years were not kind to me,” William admitted. The lock welded tight at the back of his mind prevented the horrors from unleashing, but sometimes in the night, one or two slipped through the seams. They tried to do so now.

“I’m shocked you let anyone lay their hands on you.” And yet Nicholas had his hands gripping tightly to William’s waist.

“I was a boy then. He hadn’t learned to survive yet.” Because he was weak and naive.

“But he knows now. He’s exceedingly good at it, in fact,” Nicholas said while sweeping an arm around him, lower on his waist than before. The fae’s fingers spread over his thigh, a thumb caressing the skin. The other hand dipped into the warm water to run it up William’s arm, slow and careful, continuing to test his quivering boundaries.

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” William declared.

“And where am I trying to get?”

“Between my legs, I imagine.”

Nicholas chuckled. His lips pressed a firm kiss to William’s shoulder, possessive. “What will get me between your legs?”

A curse of stupidity. Curiosity. Boredom. Self-loathing. War eating away every piece of sense William could ever have. A combination of it all, though when William glanced over his shoulder and glimpsed those pointed fangs, the long-tipped ears, and unnatural eyes, a raging anger swept over him. The one that always came when he least expected it, that forever boiled along the edge of his mind, waiting for that moment to erupt. It did so now, first anger at Nicholas, then himself for daring to crave a moment. He loathed fae. Far more than monsters and war and kings and make believe deities. Fae ruined the one light he found among the shadows. Hugh could have been his everything and they stole that.

Setting his hands on Nicholas’ arms, William shoved him away, needing to escape, to find a rock and beat some sense into himself. Charmaine was right. He needed rest. He needed to get away. He surged around Nicholas towards the entrance. A hand snatched his bicep, but whatever Nicholas had to say evaporated when William snarled, vicious as a wounded animal, “Do you wish to know where the men are, who touched me last without my consent?”

Nicholas’ hold loosened. “Where?”

“Buried.” He saw blood in the water spilling from his hands, fire and ash, buildings crumbling beneath monstrous hands, and terror peering back at him. His heart raced and he refused to accept why, then the vision disappeared.

“Did you put them there?” Nicholas whispered.

“They died in the Battle of Rhine Hill. A terrible tragedy.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” When William said nothing, Nicholas laughed. “What a wicked little thing you are.”

William ripped his arm free and stormed out of the cave. The comfort of the hot spring vanished in the face of Hugh’s memory. His soothing eyes, loud laughter, and his honesty; “I have neither titles nor money, but I will give you my heart, William Vandervult. From this day until my last day, I am yours.”

He seized a strangled breath, struggling to bury those memories in the vault of his mind where they belonged. Wounds like that didn’t heal. They scarred and bled the moment anyone prodded at them. Nicholas hadn’t meant to scratch. How could he have known? But it bothered William, nonetheless.

He fell into the water, hoping submerging himself in true warmth would beat back the cold. It did not. When he resurfaced, he glimpsed Charmaine and Arden near the edge of the hot spring speaking animatedly to one another. A strange scene that worried him until Charmaine pivoted. Her smile rose high as she grabbed something. Some type of animal carcass like an eel.

“Look what we caught in the water,” she exclaimed. “Food! Potentially?”

“You are welcome to try,” said Arden.

“I caught the first one,” Charmaine argued and shoved the eel-like creature in Arden’s hands. “You try it.”

William shuffled over to them, ignoring the quiet slosh of water at his back and the fae who caused it. Four creatures lay along the edge, each as long as his arm. They had a good amount of meat, based on Arden cutting one open. After cooking the creature, he gave it a bite and determined the eel-things to be edible. Dressed and cleaned, they sat around a warm fire and filled their stomachs. That should have made William feel better, but then he cast Nicholas attention. Those eyes remained on him, a curious light now gleaming because William said too much.

He ensured not to speak to Nicholas for the rest of the evening.