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It was a dizzying feeling, one he decided not to repress. He deserved this. He had a right to let himself feel good. It surely wouldn't last long anyway. Damen was leaving tomorrow.
Not if I keep him here, he thought. I might have the power to keep him here. ...No. I do not. Maybe if he truly were a common soldier, but he is Damianos of Akielos and this is all a brief diversion from his path. I am a brief diversion.
A flood of happy, drunken people was pushing into the hall. Laurent propped an elbow on the table and felt his muscles relax. Tension wound out of him. Yes, he deserved a moment of carefree satisfaction. Ravenel was his. In the end, it had happened so quickly and easily that he'd been swept up. Yes, they had planned it together, but the tides had shifted so quickly on the field that he had been reduced to merely reacting, responding to the intensity of the moment. He was carried away as it was happening, fighting alongside his magnificent Captain. It was too potent.
He spotted Damen above the revelers. A head taller than most, Damen was always easy to find in a crowd. For the last week, Laurent had been trying to diminish the frequency with which his eyes sought out Damen. Tonight he cared little. In fact, he wanted Damen to see him watching.
Laurent's fingers fluttered around the goblet he was idling. Damen had bathed and dressed as a Veretian, but the restrained, refined clothing couldn't detract from his inherent, almost savage power. Damen took for granted how well-built he was. Absurd physicality, like ripping bars out of walls and throwing broadswords from moving horses, came easily to him. He looked uncomfortable in it, but the snug jacket looked beautiful on him.
Damen had been waylaid by the Patrans. Erasmus was kneeling before him, looking less pretty and more wanton than Laurent remembered. Why had he been so tender with this little tart? Damen smiled softly at the boy. Laurent gripped the edge of the table.
It was useless. He wanted him. He wanted Damen like he'd never wanted anything. He thought back to when Damen had touched his cheek. It was so improbable that this man should want to touch him. For weeks, Laurent had been throwing abuse at Damen like a sadistic, spoiled child. He didn't regret it exactly. Regret was a worthless emotion. But he did feel a little displeased when he thought about it now.
In the last week, he had been turning it over and over in his mind. He didn't think Damen wanted to harm him, but what if it eventually came to that? What if they one day found themselves at the heads of their armies, meeting on a field like Marlas? Damen could surely kill him, more surely because Laurent didn't think there was any possible way he could bring himself to raise a sword against him. If Damen ever came at him he would kneel and wait for the blow, helpless against it. Laurent was fully aware that his greatest asset could turn into his greatest weakness in an instant.
Damen's eyes found him. No one had ever looked at him in quite the same way; most tried to avoid eye contact altogether. Laurent was used to seeing lust, fear, or even disgust looking back at him. But not from Damen. Damen had a sort of broken honesty in his eyes, without any trace of uneasiness. Damen saw more of him than he'd allowed anyone to see since Auguste had died. And Laurent wanted to show him more. He wanted Damen to see everything, if only once.
Yes. He wanted this. He deserved it, just once before it was all gone.
He felt color rising on his neck. He pushed it down and decidedly crossed the room.