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A Caress Of Twilight :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 183 из 236Other than that he'd remained immobile.
I caught the shine of tears through the silver of Frost's hair. He slowly fell to his knees, his hands sliding down Doyle's arms, but never losing contact. He pressed the top of his head against the other man, his hands holding on. "I can't do it, Doyle. I cannot do it. I'd rather die. I'll let myself fade first."
With that last choked word he began to cry in earnest, great racking sobs that seemed to come from deep, deep inside him. Frost cried as if it would break him in two.
Doyle let him cry, and when he had quieted, Doyle helped me get Frost into bed. We laid him between us, Doyle spooning from the back, and me entwined from the front. There was nothing sexual about it. We held him while he cried himself to sleep. Doyle and I gazed at each other over Frost's curled body. The look in Doyle's eyes, his face, was more frightening than the sight of Andais covered in gore.
I watched a fearful purpose be born that night. Maybe it had been born a long time ago, and I just hadn't noticed. Doyle wouldn't go back, either. I saw it in his eyes. We held Frost; and finally we both slept, as well.
Sometime during the night Doyle got up and left us. I woke up when he moved, but Frost did not. Doyle kissed me gently on the forehead, then laid his hand against the soft glimmer of Frost's hair.
He spoke softly, his deep voice like a purr, more than a whisper. "I promise."
I raised up enough to ask, "Promise what?"
He just smiled, shook his head, and left, closing the door softly behind him.
I snuggled down beside Frost, but sleep eluded me. My thoughts weren't friendly enough for sleep. Dawn's light had greyed the window before I drifted into a fitful rest.
I dreamed that I stood beside Andais in the Hallway of Mortality. All the men were chained to the torture devices, untouched, unharmed, the only shining clean things in all that dark place. Andais kept trying to get me to join her in torturing them. I refused, and I wouldn't let her touch them. She threatened me and them, and I kept refusing her, and my refusal somehow made it so she couldn't touch them. I refused until Frost's small whimpering woke me. He was twitching in his sleep, struggling. I woke him as gently as I could, stroking down his arm. He woke with a scream half-choked in his throat, eyes wild.
The scream had brought the other men to the door. I waved them away as I hugged Frost to me. "It's all right, Frost, it's all right. It was just a dream."
He choked on that and spoke fiercely, his face buried against my body, his arms hugging me so tight it hurt.
I caught the shine of tears through the silver of Frost's hair. He slowly fell to his knees, his hands sliding down Doyle's arms, but never losing contact. He pressed the top of his head against the other man, his hands holding on. "I can't do it, Doyle. I cannot do it. I'd rather die. I'll let myself fade first."
With that last choked word he began to cry in earnest, great racking sobs that seemed to come from deep, deep inside him. Frost cried as if it would break him in two.
Doyle let him cry, and when he had quieted, Doyle helped me get Frost into bed. We laid him between us, Doyle spooning from the back, and me entwined from the front. There was nothing sexual about it. We held him while he cried himself to sleep. Doyle and I gazed at each other over Frost's curled body. The look in Doyle's eyes, his face, was more frightening than the sight of Andais covered in gore.
I watched a fearful purpose be born that night. Maybe it had been born a long time ago, and I just hadn't noticed. Doyle wouldn't go back, either. I saw it in his eyes. We held Frost; and finally we both slept, as well.
Sometime during the night Doyle got up and left us. I woke up when he moved, but Frost did not. Doyle kissed me gently on the forehead, then laid his hand against the soft glimmer of Frost's hair.
He spoke softly, his deep voice like a purr, more than a whisper. "I promise."
I raised up enough to ask, "Promise what?"
He just smiled, shook his head, and left, closing the door softly behind him.
I snuggled down beside Frost, but sleep eluded me. My thoughts weren't friendly enough for sleep. Dawn's light had greyed the window before I drifted into a fitful rest.
I dreamed that I stood beside Andais in the Hallway of Mortality. All the men were chained to the torture devices, untouched, unharmed, the only shining clean things in all that dark place. Andais kept trying to get me to join her in torturing them. I refused, and I wouldn't let her touch them. She threatened me and them, and I kept refusing her, and my refusal somehow made it so she couldn't touch them. I refused until Frost's small whimpering woke me. He was twitching in his sleep, struggling. I woke him as gently as I could, stroking down his arm. He woke with a scream half-choked in his throat, eyes wild.
The scream had brought the other men to the door. I waved them away as I hugged Frost to me. "It's all right, Frost, it's all right. It was just a dream."
He choked on that and spoke fiercely, his face buried against my body, his arms hugging me so tight it hurt.