Lone Werewolf Duology (bxb)

24. Volya's Promise

The next morning announced its arrival by drizzle. Light filtering through the sagging fabric of the roof was so weak that it colored Volya's skin gray, rather than the green-and-orange he was used to seeing on the sunnier days.

Liam's skin stayed as pretty as ever. His scent and warmth transformed into a familiar taste in Volya's mouth. He hugged his lover tighter, nuzzling in, splitting the bouquet into separate strands. Here was sweat, and deodorant, and shampoo, and the aftershave, and the soap...

His head span, bringing back the doze, but the glance of his hooding eyes stopped on his heart monitor. He willed his eyelids droop, but it was too late—

Twenty-four minutes before six a.m. 1440 seconds. 1439. 1438... Ah, screw the countdown. Lift off.

Suppressing a groan to avoid waking Liam, Volya crawled through the tent's flap. The epitome of grace and poise that he was, he nearly rattled the tent off its pegs. The rainwater, collected in some fold of the waterproof fabric, streaked his back with a chilly trickle.

He bit back a curse, started shaking himself off in the gray outdoors... ah, screw that too. The moisture-laden air meant he'd be soggy all day long. So, no point.

Dragging his sweatpants behind him, Volya made his way to the stony bed of the stream that served as their lifeline. The water gurgled with a chirpy attitude that was totally ridiculous on an overcast morning. Also, the morning when his lover would up and leave for four long months. His heart felt so heavy thinking about it, its beats slowed down to the rate that must have surprised the heck out of his heart-monitor.

And whose fault is that? the mist-wolf pondered.

Volya teetered on a slippery boulder the size of a horse-head. Water foamed around it, reaching for his feet.

The large pot with a long handle that he used for his daily ablutions was where he'd left it. He drew his gaze away from the churning water, grabbed it, dipped into the stream. A deep exhale--and he threw the content over his chest. His stomach collapsed inwards, his teeth chattered. Yup, his water still came from the melting glacier. No doubt about it.

After the first shock had passed, he splashed the frigid water on more liberally, with barely a squeal, and scrubbed himself clean. With all those noises, he barely heard the steps behind him. A smile, ridiculous under the circumstances, snuck upon his lips.

"Good morning, sunshine!" he called over his shoulder.

Liam winced. His responding good morning came out nasal, more like, 'g'uh-muh-nin'. Very, very cranky.

Volya's smile wilted like a sprout undercut by a scythe.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to..." he stammered, belatedly flipping the mental switch. English, dumbass, English! Not that Liam didn't know what he'd just said, but he hadn't accidentally addressed Liam in Russian for months, except for sprinkling endearments here and there.

Liam didn't acknowledge his apology. He crouched by the water, balancing on the unevenly sized boulders. Flexible as he was, his knees almost touched his ears, and he didn't seem inconvenienced by it, much like a cat. He looked into the distance.

Unlike Volya, Liam was fully dressed, in the same cargo pants as yesterday, but a different turtleneck, mustard-coloured this time. Over it, he threw on that to-die-for dark blue vest, but didn't zip it.

After immersing his index finger into the water, Liam did zip his vest up, shivered and dipped his finger again. Then inspected the results for a long moment. At least he stopped scanning the cloud-coated mountains, but still... The finger looked wet, so what?

Volya scoffed. "It's wet. What did you expect?"

"A frost-bite, to be honest," Liam muttered. "How are you washing yourself in this? More importantly, why, bae, why?"

Volya looked down at his chest and legs, slick with water. "Cold immersion builds character. It's super-healthy."

Liam shuddered and extracted a fire-truck red toothbrush from a deep pocket below his knee. From another pocket, he fished out a travel-sized tube of toothpaste, also pretty shiny and matching the color scheme. Whatever outfitters had supplied Liam's hiking wardrobe, they had thought of every little detail.

Glad that Liam had finally spoken to him, Volya kept babbling on. "A famous Russian general swore by cold immersion. Sickly as a kid, he made himself healthy that way, even crossed the Alps into Italy, like Hannibal. Only without the elephants. Uh-huh. Basically, if you want to be forever young, upend a bucket of cold water over yourself every morning, and..." he snapped his fingers for better effect. "Voila!"

Liam stuck his toothbrush into his mouth, then mumbled incomprehensibly and pointed at Volya's towel.

"Oh yes, that's important too."

Drying off was a great suggestion because Volya's skin grew goose-bumps prominent enough to form a new mountain range.

He picked the towel and rubbed the moisture off his skin so hard, he all but flayed himself.

Meanwhile, Liam applied similar exaggerated efforts to his already blindingly magnificent teeth. This activity stretched for longer than the dentist-recommended two minutes. Far longer.

Finally, Liam sloshed his mouth and lifted his big, sad eyes on Volya. "Please, at least return by the time the school year starts."

Volya's mouth hung open. Where did that come from? "Liam, come on. You can't really think that I... Liam, I'm not staying here for good."

"Lately," Liam said with a sigh, "lately, I'm starting to feel like I'm dating Peter Pan."

Volya racked his brains for the details of the story. Something about kids who could fly. Wasn't there a green pixie too? On a magic island? Aha! And... pirates? Screw the pirates. Liam couldn't possibly be worried about some pirates. "You mean, because of the magic island?"

Liam sighed again, probably realizing that they grew up with different fairy tales. "Dating Peter Pan is incredibly exciting until that morning when you walk into the bedroom and see that the window is open. Peter Pan has left for his Neverland."

The sadness lacing Liam's voice jogged Volya's memory. "Okay, maybe I can see some similarity, with the Lost Boys and my list, but that bit about the window? You don't have to worry about that."

Liam shook his head a little. "You wish..."

Volya stared at him in disbelief at what he was hearing. "I'm bonded to you. Bonded, Liam, against everyone and their monkey telling me how it's madness."

Sobs built up in his throat. He wished Liam could understand what it meant to him.

"Leaving you or you leaving me would hurt me. Physically hurt me!"

Might drive him mad too, but no need to panic just yet. All he knew, it hurt like hell when his tentative, incomplete bond with Toshka broke. With how deeply he had fallen for Liam, the tear would be unbearable.

"I don't want you to get hurt, damn it!" Liam's eyes flashed with dark lightning, an uncommon atmospheric phenomenon, before he visibly collected himself. "I just... I just want you to be there. To be there when I'm leaving and when I'm back. And later too. When I can no longer put the butts into the seats, when I need to figure out what to do with the rest of my life..."

Was there such a thing as pre-tour jitters? Volya stubbed his toe on a particularly obnoxious boulder, he was in such a hurry to get to Liam. "Don't worry about that. Just keep them in the seats for a few more years, until I graduate. Can't promise you a new yacht every year, but I'll have your back while you figure out what else you want to do with yourself."

Liam's breath warmed his ear to a pleasant temperature. "It's not about that, bae."

"I know."

They embraced in silence. The alarm was probably blaring in the tent. Soon the grim-faced bodyguards would come looking for their besotted charge. It would be too soon...

"Liam, I'll be there to see you off before the tour. I promise." Volya tilted his head to capture Liam's lips with his. "No. Not a promise. I swear!"