“King Adder is the same way, but he paid a woman handsomely to carry his child. Of course we had her under lock for a year before he impregnated her just to be sure.” Selleck chuckled.
They had succeeded because the little Boy-Prince was an exact replica of Adder.
“That idea never crossed my mind,” accepted Bracken. “Fern was already three years old when I became King, after my older brother died without any children of his own. It was an instant given.”
“I see. Well, there’s no point now.” Selleck nodded.
“True.”
“I think it is time for you to be introduced to the other Kept.”
“Lead the way.”
As Bracken walked to meet the War Trophies and Offerings, he wondered why Adder wasn’t more active with his Kept. Was he in love with someone? He didn’t have an official consort; it would have been common knowledge around the Ten Kingdoms if there was one.
What about that dog-ass Great Counselor? No. That wasn’t the vibe between them. It was friendship, the kind of friendship Bracken had with his own second-in-command, and now regent for his nephew.
Perhaps King Adder wasn’t a sexual being. No shame on that either.
Yeah, keep telling yourself that lie.
****
Gryphonire
Chapter Four
Guts
Adder was nervous, and he couldn’t find a rational explanation as to why. Bracken wasn’t his first Kept. Yes, he was the first king Kept Adder ever had, but… Bracken was more; he was a kindred spirit. Not just because both preferred men; this was intelligence he had received when he became king and learned about the other rulers of the Ten Kingdoms. Perhaps it was that neither of them had been born to be king. The gods had put them in that position without caring if they wanted it or not, and both had succeeded in taking care of their people without becoming ruthless and bitter.
Perhaps it was because both were riders of great flying beasts (his other Kept were from kingdoms without flying riders). They both knew the exhilaration of being in the sky, controlling power beyond human capabilities: men could swim, men could run, but men could not fly. Perhaps it was that he should think this man brutal and perverse and he couldn’t. Still, Adder felt it was something else altogether; he couldn’t name it yet, but it was his intention to find it out. He was not used to unnamed things wreaking havoc within him.
He was pacing around his chamber when a soft knock on the door made him stop. He pulled his tunic down, straightened his crown, and answered, “Come in.”
Selleck opened the door with Bracken in tow. He did a half bow. “My King, here is Bracken the Lakon, Rider of Vultures, King of Lakoneh, as you commanded.”
“Thank you, my friend.”
After another half bow to each, Bracken and Adder, Selleck turned around, opened the door and left, closing it.
Bracken was scowling at Adder. He stood there by the entrance like a statue under a severe rainstorm. Even his fists were clenched, and yet he looked magnificent in his white and gold tunic, plaque belt, and sandals with leather strips up to his knees. The servants had undone his war-braided hair, and it cascaded in salt-and-peppered curls beyond his shoulders. He seemed a bridegroom on his wedding night.
A very pissed-off groom.
Adder wanted to smile and ask what had happened, but Bracken’s rocky features didn’t invite even a grin. “What’s wrong?”
Bracken was silent and fuming. His eyes were mere slits, and his mouth had a murderous rictus.
If Adder didn’t trust the honor bounding Bracken to be a Kept, he would have drawn his sword instantly. He walked toward the Lakon and pried his fists open. “Please tell me what happened. Did the other Kept do something to you?” He realized his mistake the second he closed his mouth as a growl emerged from Bracken.
“I’m not a fucking weakling.” Bracken pushed Adder. “Yours is the only touch I will permit, and you know the reasons for that.”
Adder pushed back, pinning Bracken against the wall, his forearm over the tanned throat. “Then tell me what the fuck happened and stop acting like a spoiled brat who wanted something and didn’t get it.”
Barely moving his lips, his teeth gritted, Bracken hissed, “Your people have a very wicked sense of what preparation means. I don’t need two men holding me down while another inserts a tube in my ass to clean me for you. I’ve been having sex for eons. I know how not to shit on a man’s cock.”
Without suppressing a snort, Adder let go of Bracken with a warning push to stay where he was. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious.”
It was hard not to gibe Bracken’s silliness. Adder went with it. “You said mine was the only touch you will permit. I hope I don’t have three unnecessarily dead servants.”
Bracken’s face went blank for two or three heartbeats, then he grumbled, “Dog-son asshole.”
“You’re the anal one here.”
“Stop it.”
“That’s what you said yesterday.”
“Who’s being childish now?”
“Are you going to behave?”
“I promised I would yesterday.”
“All right.” Adder walked to the bed and sat on it, extending a hand to Bracken. “Come.”
Bracken unbuckled his plaque belt and started to pull up his tunic. He didn’t have anything underneath (as was their custom) and the play of muscles was delicious.
“What are you doing?” Adder asked when his brain grasped what was happening.
“I’m behaving. I’m getting naked so you can fuck me and be done with it.”
The false light of the oil lamps made Bracken’s nudity different from that of their previous encounter in bright daylight. The shadows brought angles that enhanced muscles and scars into glorious masculine beauty.
An impressive image, similar to a wild gryphon waiting to pounce at you.
Ha, Adder was Master of Gryphons, and he would master this man no matter what.
Adder sprang from the bed, unbuckling his belt and getting rid of his tunic in one swift movement to end up facing Bracken, chest to chest. He grabbed Bracken’s ass and ground their groins together. “You aren’t behaving. You’re practically ordering me to fuck you. That’s not how we play this game.”
Bracken ground back and bit Adder’s chin before saying, “A rigged game is not a real game. You already won, remember?”
Fuck.
The bite sent lightning throughout Adder’s body, but it was true; this was a rigged game. Adder couldn’t say differently without sounding like an idiot, or worse— a liar. He brushed Bracken’s lips with his. “Still, let me show you how good I play.”
They didn’t move to the bed, but to an armless chair, where Adder sat with Bracken on his lap; both became lips, and tongues, and limbs, and pulls, and shoves, grappling like two fucking krakens mating. Bracken could say that the game was rigged and that Adder had won already, but he was giving as good as he was taking, and that excited Adder like nothing had in a long time.
“Turn around,” Adder exhaled as he came out of the scuffle for air.
“Yes,” Bracken hissed. As he accommodated himself on Adder’s groin to tease his cock, Adder pushed him forward. Quick reflexes threw arms forward to avoid landing face-first. “What the fuck?” Bracken yelped, craning his neck backward, trying to look at Adder in the awkward position.
Adder had him exactly how he wanted, as if they were in a bizarre wheelbarrow race. He pulled himself upward enough to have Bracken’s round behind in the perfect position and dove between luscious cheeks, inhaling and tasting and biting.
“Oh merciful Erin,” Bracken groaned as his entire body trembled.
Adder saw goose bumps erupting over the hard muscles around his face. Now, with his prey secured, he sat back and continued the assault, using lips and teeth and nose. Bracken babbled incoherently. Curses and blessings came out mixed and strangled. His body writhed, a fine coat of sweat soon covering it.
; Rimming was Adder’s favorite part of the bed sports, and by the few things he could grasp from Bracken’s irrational discourse, he was the first to take the time to bestow it upon the Lakon. What a waste of a perfect hole. But it was time for more than rimming. Adder changed weapons, first one and then two fingers. He played Bracken’s prostate like a lyre with slow, knowing motions, bringing sweet moans and grunts (his favorite melodies) out of him.
With his other hand, Adder pumped Bracken’s hard and leaking cock. In perfect harmony, he milked and strummed, rubbed and tugged, pulled and pushed until Bracken climaxed with a rough clamor as if Hate and Pleasure had just had a battle inside him. And they probably had.
Bracken slithered to the floor like melting snow over rock and turned to lie on his back, he pinned Adder with his cloudless-sky eyes. “You.”
Adder winked. “The bed is a better place to come down from ecstasy.” He offered his hand, and Bracken took it without fussing. The midnight blue and silver bedclothes framed Bracken’s strong planes and wild hair beautifully. Then he realized that his bed had been dressed with the colors of Lakoneh. “You are a marvelous sight,” Adder whispered, propping his head on his elbow, both long bodies side by side.
“Thank you.” Bracken nodded. “You’re not bad to look at yourself.”
This made Adder chuckle. He couldn’t resist and touched Bracken’s swollen, smiling lips. Bracken sucked the same fingers that had been inside him. Adder shivered, and it didn’t escape him that Bracken knew the role of those fingers.
“Let me take care of you,” Bracken murmured softly as he released the digits.
“No.” Adder shook his head. “Tonight is about you.”
Bracken didn’t say anything, just stared at Adder, puzzlement softening his sharp, commanding features. They remained like that for many minutes, in quiet silence. The quietness encouraged Adder’s nightjars to call.
“What is that creepy noise?”
“My pets.” Adder laughed. Nightjars were not indigenous to the Ten Kingdoms, but their distinctive call was for some reason soothing to Adder and helped him to sleep.
“It figures you have demon pets.”
“You can be so silly, Lakon. Come, let me show you.”
“You’re going to show me your demons?”
This gave pause to Adder. Yes, perhaps in the future they could show each other their demons and help one another to deal with them. For now it was just the birds. “Yes.” He jumped from the bed. “This way.”
They walked naked to the adjacent room that was lounge and clerical space. The birdcage was practically a room in itself. Bracken moved toward it, resting his hands on the intricate designs of the bars. “What are they called?”
“Nightjars.”
Adder had to admit that the view of Bracken’s powerful back, narrow hips, and muscular legs with nothing but the leather thongs of his sandals (ascending thick calves) was breathtaking. Then he remembered that the previous night, while alone in his bed on the ship, the pattern of Bracken’s war braids had made his hair remind Adder of the plumage of his nightjars.
The legends of the island continent, from whence his little pets had come, spoke of them as familiars to killer spirits and also called them corpse-eaters and goatsuckers. All nonsense, but wasn’t the vulture rider in front of him maligned just like the night birds after what he did to Adder’s ships?
Nothing in Bracken’s previous skirmishes with other kingdoms marked him as a brutal defiler, but the state of the ships when they were returned to Vurgeg left his vassals and the people of Munus revolted. They had clamored for vengeance, and he as a king had to do something to calm his people down.
After a moment of stillness, the nightjars started their song again. Bracken turned around and smiled at Adder. Maybe Bracken didn’t order the things done on those ships. Perhaps it was the men he left in charge, and he wasn’t aware of what happened. The things warring inside Adder, his confusing desire for Bracken and the grotesque idea that he was supposed to have of him, were overwhelming. He felt in his gut (and his gut had never failed him before) that he could trust Bracken’s honor, but it was always wise to keep one’s guard up.
Still, he was going to trust his gut tonight. He walked until his body was flush to Bracken’s and circled the hard flanks. Adder felt Bracken melt into the embrace as he kissed one shoulder and murmured, “Let’s go back to bed, Nightjar.”
Bracken cocked his head sideways toward him and said calmly, “Is that the name you’re giving me?”
“Yes.”
****
Chapter Five
Confusion
When men became Kept, they were given new names so they understood that their previous life was over. Usually those new names were something inconsequential and meaningless to assert their position in the hierarchy structure and to remind them the King owned what the King named.
Nine days had gone, and no one but Adder called Bracken Nightjar.
And only when we are alone.
Even Selleck still addressed him as King Bracken whenever they interacted. Since Lakoneh didn’t have Kept, Bracken wasn’t sure if there was a time frame for this to happen or not. Also, he had slept every night beside Adder. The King of Munus did wicked things to Bracken before falling asleep but never fucked him again after The Claiming. Moreover, it had always been about Bracken’s pleasure. He had started to think this was some plot to make him beg to be fucked out of guilt. It didn’t make any sense; it was Adder’s right to possess him. Yet, every motion, every maneuver of any part of him over Bracken’s body was designed to unhinge him, to turn him into a babbling, writhing mass of need until he erupted in shattering orgasms. Then Adder would gently coax him to sleep with soothing murmurs until darkness swallowed him.
Adder.
Always Adder, hard and leaking, but never letting Bracken take care of him. To relieve the need that was clear in Adder’s eyes in the way he devoured Bracken with each glance.
At first Bracken wasn’t happy with this new name, Nightjar. After all, it was the name of a creepy little bird, the kind of tiny thing one could squash with a hand if you used enough pressure. It had seemed like a way to tell Bracken he was just that— a minute, fragile thing.
Nights passed, making Bracken realize that there had to be more to it. Adder took personal care of his nocturnal pets, bringing the insects they ate, talking to them. They were so used to him that they called in his presence when every other person would make them go silent if they got too close to their cage.
These nightly stays were also changing the dynamics within the Kept Hall. The War Trophies started to look at Bracken with suspicion. A very unhealthy dose of ill-disguised jealousy shone clear in their narrowed eyes. Bracken understood this. He was still called King and had surpassed the usual one or two nights of use after arrival. Nobody invited confidences but Bracken was sure Adder simply fucked them and was done with it. This made all the confusion in his head grow bigger and wilder.
On the other hand, the Offerings fluttered around him like he was some kind of hero for retaining Adder’s attentions, which in turn angered the War Trophies even more.
Bracken tried not to dwell on these things as he filled his plate with the dishes laid for their midday meal. He sat alone at one end of the long darkwood table. He had purposely waited until everybody was seated so he could choose a spot far from them. The War Trophies commanded the opposite end, glaring at him between bites and grumbling among themselves. The Offerings had done a number on one of them the previous day. Bracken knew the men at the other end were brewing something nasty; he just couldn’t be sure if it was going to be directed at the kids or at him.
“You’re so lucky, he’s so dreamy,” said Eta as he sat beside Bracken, uninvited.
Bracken had been attracted to men all his life; not even before he became the Warrior King of the Lakonians had he ever used the word “dreamy” to describe another man.
“I would say more like nightmarish.” Br
acken chuckled. He liked this kid. All the Offerings were pampered, court-raised lads, but this one had a sharp wit to him that appealed to Bracken’s own caustic sense of humor.
“How could you say that of our king?”
“Thought you were talking about Mu,” Bracken said pointing at the wickedest-looking of all the War Trophies. “You two have your very own special side-war going on.”
Eta snorted, “He’s a beast, but his ass is pretty tight.”
“Tread carefully. These men are not silly things to play with.”
“What are they going to do? They can’t hurt us, we belong to King Adder.”
“You could always have a fatal ‘accident.’ Don’t anger them more than is necessary.”
The kid’s face contorted. “You think they could resort to that?”
“If you push them hard enough, they might. They have nothing to lose. Their lives are already somebody else’s property.”
“You mean our lives.”
“Semantics. I’m on this boat as much as everyone in this hall. I’m just not going to make it harder by creating unneeded enemies.”
Selleck entered the hall and walked straight to them. “May I sit?”
Bracken nodded and eyed Eta, telling him silently, “This is polite behavior.”
Selleck sat placidly.
“Would you like me to fix you a plate?” Eta asked Selleck.
“Thank you, Eta. I already ate.” Selleck looked at Bracken’s plate. It was empty. “If you’re done, King Bracken, please follow me.”
Bracken stood up, winked at Eta and went to wash his hands. Selleck awaited him by the door. They left the Kept, strolling through sunny corridors. They moved toward a part of the palace Bracken didn’t know. Not that he knew much of it; he wasn’t interested either. Soon, they were at the stables, where gryphons were housed. The accommodations were different from the ones the Lakonian had for their vultures, but more similar to the ones they had built for their creations the vulhurs, an alchemy-marriage of horse and vulture.
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