Book Title: Beasts of Burden (The Black Blade Chronicles 2)
Author and Publisher: J.K. Hogan
Cover Artist: Wicked Pixel Designs
Release Date: March 29, 2022
Genre: M/M Fantasy Romance
Tropes: Enemies to reluctant friends to lovers
Themes: Swords and sorcery, adventure quest
Length: approx. 75 000 words
It is not a standalone story. It is the second book in The Black Blade Chronicles series.
This book ends on a HFN, with the understanding that the HEA will be at the end of the 3 book arc.
Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited
The journey continues…
Blurb
Senne Clayward and Kasimir vas Hjardar continue their quest to rescue Senne’s young ward, Princess Sigrid, from the evil tyrant who has taken her hostage. After they follow through with a mad plan to sneak into King Prosper’s fortress that only halfway succeeds, the princess slips through their fingers once more. As they travel across the continent of Taleth, they are one step behind their quarry at every turn.
Encountering numerous obstacles and enemies both old and new, Senne and Kasimir doggedly pursue their goal while coming to rely on each other more than ever. The two unlikely companions enlist the help of a small band of adventurers to track the princess and intercept her captors while the armies of Toivonen march westward behind them.
Kasimir continues to grapple with the beast on his back—a lifelong struggle—while Senne must bare his soul to earn the trust of those around him. Can they survive the journey? Will they save Sigrid in time to keep her from harm and prevent the realm from plunging into eternal darkness? And what will be left for them after the dust settles?
Senne rounded the fire and came to sit next to Kasimir, and they both watched the flames sear the venison. Fat dripped into the flames as the meat cooked, hissing and popping and releasing the most delicious aroma.
“It must roast a while longer yet to be cooked through. Don’t want to risk getting ourselves ill when we’ve once again managed to elude death. How silly would it be if raw meat became our undoing?” Kasimir rambled, his voice gravelly and uncertain.
Senne wondered if his anger had thrown Kas more than he might wish to admit. He almost asked, but Kas spoke again.
“Thank you for this,” he said, indicating the spit of venison. “If it had been left to me, we’d be dining on stringy hare or river trout once again tonight.”
Senne bumped Kas’s shoulder with his own. “And that would’ve kept us alive just fine.”
Kasimir turned his head to study Senne’s face, and Senne became intensely aware of how close they were. His throat convulsed with a nervous swallow. After a few tense moments, Kasimir turned back to the fire and Senne sagged, though whether from relief or disappointment he couldn’t say.
“I’m sorry,” Kas said after a few moments of silence.
Senne sent him a questioning look but said nothing.
“I don’t mean to treat you as if you are incapable. I know that couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s just…” He stared down at a twig he’d been toying with and tossed it into the fire.
“Just what?” Senne murmured.
“Since my parents… Since Erik…I’ve been alone.”
Senne winced at the reminder of Kasimir’s boyhood love who betrayed him and destroyed his family.
“Not always alone physically, you understand,” Kas continued. “I’ve always had comrades-in-arms, and Galen and Séverine drift in and out of my life with the wind—but I’ve never been responsible for anyone. Or reliant on anyone,” he quickly added when Senne opened his mouth to tell him just where he could stuff his responsibility.
Kasimir sighed. “It’s a delicate balance between those two, reliance and responsibility. One that I obviously haven’t quite got the hang of yet.” A self-deprecating smile curved his lips. “I can’t quite move past the feeling that someone in my company, especially someone I…care about, is my responsibility. And relying on another isn’t something I’ve ever done well, either. I admit that all of it has me a bit out of sorts.”
Senne stared at his profile, edged in firelight—his fine, straight nose, his full lips, his square jaw—and realized just how very dear to him Kasimir had become. His heart tripped over itself. He felt a bit giddy and a touch queasy, but he knew for sure he didn’t want to go another moment without his hands on Kas.
But then he remembered that all their couplings had been during or after times of great stress, great danger, and risk to life and limb. Would they even know what to do with each other if there wasn’t intense turmoil and a bit of bloodshed involved? Could they cherish each other when lives weren’t hanging in the balance? Or would their insecurities get the better of them both? Now’s as good a time as any to find out.
Senne stood, causing Kasimir to blink up at him. Senne ignored his obvious confusion. He rooted around in their pile of gear until he came up with Kas’s dire-wolf-pelt cloak. Taking it into the shelter, he spread it out on the ground, covering the better part of both their bedrolls. When he returned to his spot by the fire, he looked down at Kas.
“Get in. Lie down,” he ordered, pointing at the furry palette.
Kasimir looked up at him with wary eyes that already had a bit of glow to them. “But the meat—”
“Must roast for a while to be safe. You said yourself.” Senne heard him swallow.
“I did say that, didn’t I?”
Senne pinched his lips together, fighting a smile at the befuddled look on Kas’s face. “Is there anything else preventing you from getting in that shelter and lying down?”
Kasimir looked at the cloak, then back at Senne. “I guess there isn’t.”
With arms crossed and brows raised, Senne waited. Eventually Kas got the hint that he wasn’t exactly moving. He scooted back toward the bedrolls and lay down on his back over the pelt. He looked at Senne as if he were being hunted. Perhaps he was.
Senne stalked toward him and knelt down beside his hip. His fingers drifted to the laces of Kas’s trews. He bit his lip as he watched Kas’s gaze follow the motion. Pausing only briefly to hover over the laces, Senne instead gripped the hem of the tunic. “Sit up,” he instructed.
Still eyeing him warily, Kasimir sat up and allowed Senne to draw his shirt over his head. Senne had thought perhaps it might be too cold for nudity, but the heat of the fire was captured nicely by the lean-to. Kasimir’s skin didn’t even pebble from the cold. Senne pressed his hand against his shoulder to urge him to lie back again.
“Senne…” Kas’s voice was hesitant, cautious. He seemed unsteady in the face of kindness, of attention.
Still kneeling, Senne removed Kas’s foot wraps and socks to make him more comfortable, then lifted Kas’s hand and began to gently massage. It was his sword hand, which meant it was covered in subtle bruises, callouses, and a lifetime of scars. He traced the pads of his fingers over the rough, mottled skin, and Kasimir’s breath caught.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Touching you. Is that all right?”
Kasimir swallowed, made a visible effort to relax, then nodded.
Senne continued the exploration and gentle ministrations along his forearm, which was equally as scar-roughened from catching many a blade in battle. He kneaded the shoulder and swept his hands across that wide chest before giving the left arm the same treatment. Kasimir had begun to breathe more rapidly, and there was a noticeable tenting in his trews that Senne planned to ignore until neither of them could take it anymore.
Senne unlaced the garment, and Kasimir lifted his hips to allow them to be slid off. Senne’s fingers followed their movement, trailing along the skin stretched tight over Kas’s well-defined thigh muscles. Kas squirmed a bit when he traced the crook of his knee, making Senne smile.
“Ticklish?” Senne asked, his grin widening.
Kasimir scoffed and turned his face away, though not before Senne saw his blush. “Of course not. I’m just… Well, you still have all your clothes on. It’s a bit strange, innit? Being naked and at your mercy.”
“Being naked while I’m clothed has never bothered you before.”
“That’s…fair,” Kas conceded.
“So it must be the ‘at my mercy’ part that you’re stumbling over, yeah?” Senne started to laugh but sobered when Kasimir lowered his eyes, looking a bit lost. Maybe even fearful. “I imagine that must be quite hard for you, trusting someone in such a way.”
Kasimir’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, then he nodded again. “It is.”
He needs more than just my touch. Senne leaned forward and pressed a trail of kisses along the side of Kasimir’s calf, then continued to his ankle and the arch of his feet, where he was met with a sharp gasp. He cocked his head. “Sensitive?” he asked.
“Not like…” Kas paused, then tried again. “Not sensitive, exactly. It’s just…very intimate.”
Senne studied Kasimir’s reddened face for a moment before gently lowering his foot. He crawled up the palette and lay down on his side so they could be eye to eye. “Gods, Kas, has no one ever touched you like this? Has no one ever cherished you?”
Kasimir covered his face with his forearm and mumbled something unintelligible.
“Don’t hide from me.” Senne pushed Kas’s arm away. “What did you say?”
“I said, of course not,” he growled. “You know my history. How sporadic and impersonal my…encounters have been.”
Kasimir’s cheeks were bright red by then, and he wouldn’t meet Senne’s eyes. But Senne cared naught about embarrassment. His blasted heart ached for Kasimir—for all he’d lost and all he’d never had. Their future was as uncertain as the wind, but they had this night, and Senne was determined to give Kas a little bit of what he’d been missing.
J.K. Hogan has been telling stories for as long as she can remember, beginning with writing cast lists and storylines for her toys growing up. When she finally decided to put pen to paper, she found her true passion. She is greatly inspired by all kinds of music and often creates a “soundtrack” for her stories as she writes them.
J.K. resides in North Carolina with her husband, two sons, and their pets. If she isn’t writing, J.K. can be found designing book covers at Wicked Pixel Designs, creating fiber art and supplies at Earthbound Fiber Arts watching Hurricanes Hockey and, of course, reading!
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