Wicklow's Odyssey

by R. Cooper

He never did have much use for authority, not even when it smelled like flowers and traveled through an enemy city to find him. But then, Alexander Rhoades didn’t give orders, he told stories, which must be why Wicklow found himself doing what the man wanted—they

Wicklow should have been ordinary to Rhoades, but he wasn’t, and that was the truth that made him tremble. He meant something to Rhoades, something terrible and weakening, something that meant Rhoades was here with him now when he should have been distant and better protected.

He was always soothing Wicklow and rattling him at the same time.

Rhoades kept on, his voice a kiss beneath Wicklow’s ear, hungry, so hungry for him. Rhoades always spoke to Wicklow that way.

Tell me.” “That I love you?”

Offering implied insults and then ignoring them must be something they taught in rich men’s colleges.

Rhoades got the most wondrous look on his face, as if Wicklow had called his attention from a story he’d been lost in, or had offered him some trifle made of cream and sugar that he had not realized he’d wanted until that moment. He usually did not.

We will protect that which we love, even when we don’t want to love it and we don’t feel it loves us. Perhaps it doesn’t. That is how love works. It exists, whether or not it is returned. I was quite unprepared for that.”

has rendered my considerations useless.” That was a fancy way of saying Rhoades was confused.

He put his forehead to Rhoades’s shoulder and shivered. “I will not shame you,” Rhoades promised, grand and mad. He was trembling, truly trembling with fear for the first time Wicklow had seen, and he was still beautiful. “I will not fail. I will be worthy of you.”

Rhoades was a liar who meant the things he said.

“Do it, or you’re a liar.” Wicklow raised his chin. “Merciless heathen.” It did not sound like swearing as Rhoades said it. It did not even seem an insult. It seemed like another way for Rhoades to call him beloved.

but Wicklow saw no shame in serving him. Gang chiefs took more. The Army had nearly killed him. Nuns had been cruel. Rhoades was so gentle it sapped the strength from Wicklow’s bones.

“Relax. This might be fun. In fact, I know it will be, because the Colonel didn’t want us to do it.