And So It Begins (10 page)

Until the cock deliciously teasing his own pressed forward in a sudden, demanding thrust.

He groaned aloud as he responded, his senses coming alive as lust tingled across his nerves. He found the warm, solid flesh lying against him and clutched it greedily, twisting sharply to force it under him, covering it with his own as he used his legs to force those beneath him to spread. Hunger burned in his veins as the thighs lifted to enclose his hips. He drove forward with a sharp, furious thrust, grinding his cock into the hardened heat of the other. The gasp he heard in return was harsh and exciting and… very, very familiar.

Full awareness crashed over him with a suddenness that snapped him into full wakefulness, and he drew back, staring with sickening dread at the prince who lay brashly and unashamedly beneath him. Kherin’s eyes were open, watching and anxious, and breath panted from his lungs as his legs lifted higher in an invitation that was clear and unmistakable. The hands that had settled on the trader’s shoulders slipped to the small of his back, and fingers dug into flesh as Kherin began to move.

Derek’s dread built, and he seized the prince’s hips to stop him.

“Kherin…,” he breathed urgently, but his words were lost as Kherin rocked against him. The response of his body was instant as Kherin pressed and arched beneath him, and lust singed his nerves anew as Kherin, inadvertently or not, presented the hard pebbles of his nipples in a near invitation to be bitten. The throb of his cock as he watched the blatantly erotic display made him push his hips down, and the sudden and scorching thought of taking one tantalizing bud into his mouth—teasing it with teeth and tongue, sucking and biting until Kherin cried out in pleasure or pain—created an ache he nearly answered as Kherin arched against him again.

How easily he could take the prince now, how completely he could devour him with hands and mouth as he ravaged his hot channel. He couldn’t stop himself from thrusting forward, couldn’t stop his hands from clenching the prince’s hips as he drove himself sharply between his legs, couldn’t stop the hiss of his own breath as he forced a ragged and wrenching cry from Kherin’s lips when he thrust again…. Stopping would be nearly impossible.

But he had to. He had to stop, and with an effort, he did.

“Kherin…,” Derek breathed again, a desperate plea rather than a warning. With an incredible effort, he tried to roll off the prince, put space between them before they did something that couldn’t be undone.

But Kherin caught him in a grip every bit as desperate, his fingers and thighs clenching as he pulled Derek down to meet thrusts that were quickly becoming frantic. Kherin’s chest heaved against his own, and his nails bit flesh as his efforts rocked them together, hard and gracelessly.

Derek’s willingness to stop vanished under an inescapable wave of pure hunger. The mesmerizing sight of the beautiful body writhing beneath him fed the almost feral need that suddenly claimed him, and he panted heavily as he snapped their hips together, driving deep into Kherin’s willing warmth. His gasps rose to match the raggedness of Kherin’s as they fell into a hard and brutal rhythm. Then Kherin shot up to claim a kiss both ruthless and devouring, and teeth met his tongue as he forced it inside the prince’s wet heat.

Had it lasted only moments longer, Derek would have taken him, taken him and answered the base, animalistic need bristling in every shred of his being. But Kherin pulled back with a suddenness that surprised him, gasping, nearly sobbing, as he reached orgasm in the midst of their tangled limbs. Derek snaked his hand down instead, seizing and stroking, drawing out the seed of each strong burst to coat the fist his hand had become.

And then it was over. Derek was balanced on the edge, but the sudden calmness that settled over Kherin in the aftermath of his release gave Derek the strength to will himself to wait. He saw contented satisfaction mingle with exhaustion as it played in the shadows on the prince’s face, and he felt, as well as heard, the prince’s breathing grow easier. Derek wasn’t surprised when Kherin’s eyes began to close. Within moments, Kherin was asleep.

Derek breathed a sigh heavy with frustration as he moved carefully off the prince, releasing the softening cock with more than a little regret to let it nestle in the sweat and cum that still coated the prince’s skin. Kherin may be sated, but Derek was still hard and aching, almost shaking at the intensity of his arousal from the fantasy he’d just witnessed. He moved away enough to ensure they weren’t touching, then found his own release with a series of well-practiced strokes, his hand slicked with Kherin’s cum. His storm, however, he weathered in near silence.

Only later, when the waves of pleasure had receded and his heart began to slow, did he reach for the sodden clothes to clean them both.

He sighed deeply when he finished, his lust finally satisfied enough to let him think clearly, and the dread he had felt earlier returned. He had known Kherin’s preferences as well as any other who spent any time inside the castle at Delfore, and if not for the royal standing Kherin carried with him, he would have welcomed Kherin into his bed, or joined Kherin in his, willingly and with pleasure. But Kherin
did
have royal standing, and he knew the repercussions of bedding the prince would be grave, as they had proven to be with Tristan.

He sighed again, softer now. As ill-placed as his judgment had been, he had given in to Kherin with a passion that was all his own, and though it was less than what he had wanted—what either of them had wanted—it was more than what he could deem to be safe.

It had been a mistake.

And for both of their sakes, he hoped the king never found out.

G
RAVLORN
wasn’t the largest of the Defender cities, but it may very well be the darkest and most dismal, at least from what Kherin could see from the road. Windowless walls lined the Defender Road, the name given to the stone-paved roadway that linked the Defender cities from east to west. The towering structures of cut gray stone and dark tiled roofs guarding the city proper seemed both cold and forbidding, and probably would have remained so even had the fading day been clear and dry and if Kherin’s eyes had not burned with fever.

He had awakened near dawn, hot and thirsty and completely naked under their cloaks. Derek had already risen, dressed, and begun the preparations to leave the way-stop, though he had stopped immediately when the prince began to stir. The clothes they had slept on showed the stains they had picked up in the night, and though he would have preferred the coolness of those still wet, Kherin hadn’t had the strength to argue as Derek helped him dress in the dry clothing instead. The weakness of his limbs made it clear he needed the help.

Neither of them mentioned the previous night.

Kherin had a fair idea of what had happened, and would have been able to guess if he hadn’t. The stickiness still present on his skin and the rawness that stung his cock were familiar, and combined with the blurry memory of Derek moving against him, there was little doubt what they had done. But his memories weren’t solid enough to separate reality from fantasy, nor clear enough to assure him Derek’s attentions had been given as willingly as they had been received. The uncertainty of whether the night had been mutual made him cautious, and therefore reluctant to ask the question that would give him his answer.

Because his greatest fear was the answer would be no.

Rain still fell, though no longer in the destructive torrents that had plagued them the day before, and Kherin turned his face to the sky often during the remainder of the journey, welcoming the cooling fall of water on his burning skin. He had left the hood of his cloak down despite the trader’s advice, accepting what relief the rain offered regardless of the consequences that would undoubtedly come later. Deep, tearing coughs had begun shortly after their travel resumed, and quickly become severe enough to banish any thoughts of spending another night on the road. As night began closing in on their third day from Delfore, the uninviting appearance of Gravlorn proved welcome despite its ominous presence.

Night had fallen completely by the time they neared the city’s edge, its boundary marked decisively by the worn paving stones of the Defender Road. The stone edifices crowding the north side of the road hid the city from approaching eyes and separated Llarien from Trian’s Ford, the river that had marked the boundary between the kingdom and the northern country since the kingdom was founded. Oxlan was Gravlorn’s nearest neighbor to the west, and Lorn lay to the east, each less than two days’ travel by horseback. It struck Kherin suddenly that he hadn’t noticed the road being paved this close to the cities before, at least not in any of the Defender cities he had visited.

“The city didn’t use to extend this far south,” Derek told the prince quietly, answering his question as he kept his horse close with gloved hands. “When it came to expanding, it was easier to build south than clear more land to the east and west. One day, Gravlorn may encompass this road completely.”

Kherin only nodded in reply. The trader’s low voice had been a welcome distraction throughout the day, even if Kherin couldn’t remember most of what he had said. Derek had done what he could, but a clean, dry shelter and the services of a healer were what were needed. Thankfully, Gravlorn had both.

“We will have to circle outside the city,” Derek continued, turning west onto the Defender Road once the crossroad had been reached. “Gravlorn does not allow horses on its streets, even those of Defenders or ill princes. The Defender stables are on the other side, and we can leave the beasts there.”

Kherin didn’t answer, but he felt the unyielding presence of the worked stone on his right. It was like riding outside a wall, and Kherin didn’t doubt the Defenders who had expanded the city had intended that effect. Even the narrow alleys between the closely built structures would provide only limited access to the city, and no lamps could be seen on the other side to give any hint of what lay there. His chest tightened as another fit of coughing threatened to erupt.

“This end of Gravlorn is not where the commerce takes place,” Derik continued, his voice subdued but loud enough to snatch the prince’s attention. “The market is near the north side. Although the city grows longer, the points of business haven’t moved.”

“Father said the healer of Gravlorn was tending to Adrien,” Kherin began, but a sudden, violent cough shattered the words before he finished speaking.

Derek’s steadying grip on his wrist brought both horses to a stop. Kherin spit the phlegm from his mouth as the constriction of his lungs eased. His next words were almost a whisper. “Is he in the city or the camp?”

“Healers may be present in both, but Adrien is most likely in the city, if for no other reason than the Defender healer is likely a permanent resident.” Derek loosened his grip and urged the horses forward. “Not being a Defender, I can’t say for sure whether things have changed.”

Kherin nodded again, but stayed silent rather than risk another fit. Derek turned off the road when they passed the last in the line of buildings, taking them onto a wide path cut under towering boughs. Though the fall of rain lessened under the sheltering branches of the trees, the trader slowed their pace as hooves churned the path into muddy mire.

Little changed in the wall on this side of Gravlorn, even when they neared what Derek called the commerce end of the city. The guttering flames of the torches were the first sign they were nearing the western edge of Gravlorn camp, and the vague shapes of scattered structures was Kherin’s first view of the Defender camp itself. Only after they had drawn close enough to garner notice could Kherin see the tall, burning stakes were shielded against the rain.

He recognized rough-hewn walls of the Defender stables even in the dim glow. Shadowed figures appeared briefly and then vanished from the light, but Kherin couldn’t stifle the welling of relief as they passed the first of the torches. They had made it.

Two figures appeared outside the stable, and a third joined them as the horses drew near. The three stepped forward as they came to a halt, and two continued to close in to reach the horses’ heads. The salutes the Defenders rendered were given without delay, proof they recognized the second prince of Llarien, no matter the weather and his current condition. Kherin could attest that Defenders, as a whole, learned to see well in the dark.

The long, grueling ride, combined with the fever and coughs, had left Kherin weaker than he would have expected, and he gripped the saddle even after his booted feet were on the ground. Derek appeared at his side, and a supporting arm took his weight as a young Defender stepped forward to take the reins from his hands. Derek’s reins had already been taken, and the horses were led away without comment, the whole process routine. Only the senior Defender lingered.

The man introduced himself as Ronel, hailing from Appas, a city south of Delfore in the foothills of the mountains. Though he could have been anywhere between thirty and fifty, he stood straight and firm, with little to separate him from the younger Defenders save for a few strands of gray visible in his dark mustache and neatly trimmed beard. Like all Defenders on the border, he wore the boiled leather armor preferred over chain or plate. The freedom of movement granted by leather had long been considered an advantage over the protection of metal. A rain cloak covered the armor now, though the hood remained down to give full view of his features. Though Derek and Ronel exchanged acknowledging nods, the Defender addressed Kherin alone.