Jade War

Cory didn’t speak either. He reached across the front seat and took hold of Anden’s wrist, pulling it forward, until the tips of Anden’s cold fingers brushed bare skin. Slowly, Anden flattened his palm against the man’s abdomen. His pulse was pounding in the palm of his hand. In the close quarters of the car, he could suddenly hear his own breath, loud and unsteady.

Cory’s gaze was hungry now. He moved Anden’s hand across his bare stomach, as if guiding a blind reader over braille. When Anden touched the hard, smooth pieces of jade, an intensely delicious and slightly nauseating sensation, like that of an overripe sweetness, hit him in the back of the throat and fell into the pit of his gut. Cory’s jade aura throbbed into him, hot with desire, like a black rock baking in the sun. Anden wanted to press himself against it, to clutch it greedily, to let it envelop him, but his body remembered the taste of jade energy the way an alcoholic remembers his last drunken blackout—with a crooning, desperate longing and visceral repulsion. He wanted to lose himself in it; he wanted to jerk away. The two impulses collided; Anden froze, his arm trembling. His eyes found Cory’s, and he saw the confusion in his friend’s expression resolve into understanding. Gently, the young man let go of Anden’s wrist. He dropped his shirt back into place and pulled on his coat.

Anden drew his hand back to his own side, his face burning with regret and embarrassment. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“You’ve worn jade before,” Cory said. “You were trained as a Green Bone at one of the schools in Janloon, weren’t you.” It was a question delivered as a statement, but beneath it, another question.

After a moment, Anden gave a nod. “I suppose that wasn’t hard to guess.” With difficulty, he raised his gaze. “You’re wondering why I don’t wear it anymore.”

Cory did not answer at first. “You don’t have to tell me, crumb.”

Anden stuffed his fists into the pockets of his fleece jacket. His breath steamed in the suddenly claustrophobic confines of the station wagon. Without looking at the other man, he began speaking. “In my last year at the Academy, my family was at war with another clan. One of my cousins, the Pillar… was murdered.” He had not spoken of Lan in over a year. “Even before I graduated, I wanted to do whatever I could to avenge him and help win the war. I… I killed a man. Someone important. A few men, actually.” The words coming from his mouth sounded vague and insubstantial; he couldn’t imagine anyone hearing them could appreciate their meaning, certainly not someone as removed from the situation as Cory Dauk.

Cory nodded slowly. “You don’t want to be a killer.”

Anden looked up, a little surprised. That wasn’t it at all. Sometimes it was necessary to take lives; every member of his family had done so when it was called for. He tried to think of how he might be able to explain it better, to communicate how this was different, how deeply it had affected him, how tragic and elating and painful it had been. “I don’t want to enjoy it,” he said.

Cory regarded him for a long moment. He rubbed his hands together for warmth, then scooted over on the car’s bench seat; he was suddenly inches away from Anden, his gaze more restrained but still insistent. “You’re the most interesting person I’ve met in a long time, islander.” He leaned in and kissed Anden on the mouth.

Cory’s lips were chilled, but his tongue was not. It slid, for an instant, over Anden’s bottom teeth. The kiss was over quickly, so quickly that Anden had a hard time believing that it had happened at all. When Cory pulled back, Anden acted almost without thinking—he reached forward and grabbed the other man by the front of his coat.

The second kiss lasted long enough that Anden felt the blood rushing into his head, their hot breaths mingling and steaming the windows, the warmth of Cory’s jade aura slipping over his skin. When they broke apart, Anden managed, “I… I thought you liked girls.”

Cory laughed. “I do.” He leaned in again, his lips pursed to one side. “And I like you, crumb. You’re a paradox. You look as if you walked out of a magazine ad but you’re so damn… Kekonese. It’s kind of sexy.” The bridge of Cory’s nose scrunched up, his expression teasing as he slid a hand up Anden’s leg. “You’re not like the rest of us kespies.”

“Kespies?” Anden said.

“Kespenians. You know, Kekonese-Espenians.” Cory began rubbing his hand on the crotch of Anden’s pants. Anden sat very still, not daring to move, though it seemed all the heat in his body was flowing down into his groin. Cory unbuttoned the top of Anden’s pants and slid a hand under his waistband. Cold fingers found their way into his pubic hair, began touching and encircling his stiffened cock.